Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,30
the kitchen, the dark shadows that had haunted her all night finally began to shrink.
Taking in the sight, she couldn’t help but smile.
Sunshine. Coffee. Friends. The vampire she was madly in love with.
It felt like the universe was conspiring to give her a second chance at a better day. Was there anything more promising?
“Good morning, beautiful.” Dorian rose from the table in the breakfast nook, where he, Aiden, and Cole had been huddling over a pair of laptops, a tablet, and enough printouts to wallpaper the kitchen.
“There’s our little speed demon,” Cole said, winking as Dorian came to press a soft kiss to her cheek. The wolf mimicked a crazy steering maneuver at the table, nearly knocking over his mug. “Thought maybe you’d snuck off to the racetrack to practice your sweet-ass moves.”
Dorian handed her a freshly brewed cup, then wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and smiled softly—a look that was just for her.
Are you all right, love? he seemed to be asking. I’m right here with you.
She read it all in his eyes, and in response, she nodded and let out a slow breath, the last of the night’s tension evaporating.
Of course he was right there with her. And he always would be.
For however bloody long eternity lasts…
It was a promise, a vow, and it gave her so much strength, she felt as if they could accomplish anything.
Charley smiled again, warmed by the coffee and the support. No matter how cold and dark the night had seemed, the sun had found a way to rise again.
So maybe, Charley could do the same.
With one more adoring glance for her man, she joined her friends at the table.
“I’ll be back with you in just a moment.” Dorian pulled the phone from his pocket. “I need to check in with Isabelle.”
“Everything okay?” Charley asked.
“She’s planning to go to bat for us with Armitage’s senior staff in an hour. They’re reviewing FierceConnect’s latest counter-offer.”
“So there’s a chance the acquisition might happen after all?”
“We’re not sure. According to Isabelle, her brothers are still keen on selling to Duchanes, but she’s hoping to change their minds. Regardless of what they think of our offer, I still want everything to look legitimate if Rudy sends in additional investigators. With Aiden and me working out of the office this week, I don’t want to arouse suspicions.”
Charley nodded, grateful he’d thought of it.
As Dorian headed out to make the call, she turned her attention back to the paperwork spread out before her.
“I take it these are the Estas files?” she asked, skimming through a page of what looked like bank account numbers—probably for the buyers Rudy had already lined up for the Ravenswood art.
“Took a bit of doing,” Aiden said, “but Dorian was finally able to crack the file encryption and get us set up. We’ve just started sorting through it. Perhaps you can tell us what these numbers mean?”
He turned his laptop around so she could see what he was looking at—a spreadsheet containing what appeared to be random numbers and dollar amounts.
But Charley knew they weren’t random at all.
“They’re bids,” she said. “And the codes in the right-hand column are serial numbers to track the pieces they’re fencing. There should be a master sheet for the artwork somewhere.”
Cole handed over a few printed pages from the pile in front of him—a list of the Ravenswood artwork she’d cataloged for Rudy, complete with the corresponding serial numbers that matched the ones in the spreadsheet.
“How does all this fit together?” Aiden asked. “Seems fairly complicated.”
“With a major score like this, dealers will often line up buyers in advance,” Charley said. “When there’s more than one potential buyer for a hot piece, they’ll take bids or even early deposits. There’s probably a list of names somewhere—they keep everything in separate files to make it harder to put together.”
“Lucky for us,” Cole said, “we got you on the job.”
“That, and they’re getting a little careless,” Charley said. “Seems like this job has everyone on edge—not just Uncle Psycho.” She tabbed through the open files on the laptop until she found what she was looking for, then turned the screen back toward Aiden. “These are probably our bidders.”
“Those traitorous little shites,” Aiden said, a note of surprise coloring his voice. “Most of these knobs are high-ranking officials from other supernatural factions—vampire houses, witch covens, demons, shifter packs. The gang’s all here.”
Charley shrugged. “Estas is a demon. And don’t take this the