“I know what you’re doing,” Neli says, “so if you truly don’t want Stella, I’m willing to accept it. No need to make me start an aviary or menagerie. But in all my years of knowing you, Boz, I’ve never seen you abandon a friend or ally in distress.”
I turn and narrow my eyes. “Stella is neither.”
“She is a neighbor, which technically makes her an ally. Even more importantly, you know her family’s vineyard is on the verge of going out of business, and you gave Stella your word to help them.”
My conscience makes a rare appearance, stabbing me with guilt. I did say I would help Stella, and Neli knows I cannot so easily turn my back on a vow. Damn my chivalrous nature. I want to do the impossible—rescue a woman and resist her at the same time.
Neli continues. “Her winery will go under in less than a year. Her family, whom she loves, will be destitute. Her younger sisters will have to give up their dream. Unless you’re a man of honor.”
Damn that Neli. She knows that maintaining my honor is my Achilles’ heel, but this is one of those rare occasions when I am damned if I do, damned if I do not. “I am a vampire of great power. I will get over the tarnish to my stellar reputation.”
She smiles. “I’m sure you will, but deep down, I know you’ll do the right thing and keep your word to Stella and to me. You help her, get to know her, make her your bride, and let me go. Everlasting love is your reward.”
Only my honor prevents me from destroying the delicate perfection of Stella. It is a painful irony.
“Please, Boz, do this for me.”
I feel the tugging on my cold, unbeating heart. Neli does not understand what she’s truly asking of me, of the risks to Stella. On the other hand, I am Prince Bozhidar. I have never walked away from something simply because it is difficult. For example, during a time of great famine and war in my lands, the humans fled and left me with very little food. Of course, I refused to abandon my castle, so I struck a deal with some unsavory merchant types, who often purchased wine from my vineyard to sell in faraway lands. In exchange for wine, they would bring me women. Food. From where? They did not say, but it seemed like an excellent idea at the time—I was pretty hungry. When my shipment finally showed up, I took in the women’s dirty, pale, bruised bodies all lashed together with rope. Clearly they had been mistreated. I ate the merchants instead—they tasted horrible. Then I freed the women. Of course, they had no way of getting home—they were many, all from lands I had never heard of, so I had to take them in. I had a very clean castle for many years.
“Very well,” I grumble. “I will help Stella in any way she requires.” And then turn away forever. I am strong. I will endure the temptation.
Neli throws her arms around me. “Thank you!”
I pat her back two times. The display of affection is entirely inappropriate. Still, an unusual glow of warmth spreads through my body. It almost feels like life has returned. Impossible. But nice.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Stella
I’m still not quite sure why I’m experiencing a sudden fascination with my neighbor, but it’s so intense that when I woke the other morning, I could smell him on my pillow—a woodsy aroma that reminds me of the night.
Such a weird thing to think, right? I mean, what does the night smell like? Maybe campfires and hot chocolate? Or…toasted marshmallows? I’m not sure, but his cologne is sweet and delicious. I just don’t understand how it got all over my room.
Hmmm… I feel like the answer is right on the top of my head, but I can’t quite get at it. There’s been a lot of that happening lately. Must be all the stress.
I toss the gray queen-size comforter off and swing my legs over the side of the mattress. The early rays of the sun peek around the curtains on the double window adjacent to my bed. Just behind those curtains is my fabulous view of Castle Sangria. I smile to myself and stand. I feel rested and energetic, like I could take on the world.
Maybe it’s because I’m finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Neli texted last evening and asked me to come over to their winery around seven tonight so we could work on the wine profiles.
Boz will be there, I remind myself. My heart flutters. I think of how incredibly generous he is, considering how he’s giving us his time on a Saturday. He has a small wine empire to run, and I know he probably values his downtime. Then I start thinking about how he looked the other night, with his new haircut and clothes. It was almost too painful to look at him—every curve of his ripped chest and biceps on display through his snug polo shirt. And that hard ass in those jeans? So gorgeous. My neck tingles. I give it a rub and go into my small bathroom done simply in white tile with blue accent tiles, noting that those weird mosquito bites have already healed. Strange. Why does the spot still itch?
Anyway, I have a lot of work to do today—helping my parents pull together promotional materials. Once the new wine blend is finished, there will be an announcement to do and tasting events to host. The key will be creating lots of buzz with the wine influencers. If they get on board, then the wine magazines will follow and start talking about us.
I shower and put on a pink floral maxi dress with black flats, but then change my mind and go for matching pink sandals. It’s kind of silly, but I think I caught Boz staring at my toes a few times. Maybe he’s a toe man. Either way, I like the idea of him admiring parts of my body, which is why I tie my hair up in a sloppy bun. I noticed he stares at my neck a lot too, and it’ll be warm out today.
I spritz a little of my favorite rose perfume behind my ears for the finishing touch and head downstairs to the kitchen with a bounce in my step. Mabel pulls a quiche from the oven.
“Oh no. Is that your bacon gruyere recipe?” I ask, my stomach grumbling.
“Yep!” She sets it on top of the stove.
“You know that’s my favorite. I’m going to gain twenty pounds if you guys don’t stop cooking all this delicious food.”
“Well, the state bake-off is next week.”
“I thought Eliza was entering that with one of her cakes,” I say.
“They have a savory competition this year. It has a prize of ten thousand dollars, and I know we could really use the money right now.”
It breaks my heart that she’s even thinking about money. “Shouldn’t you put that money aside for school if you win?”
Her mouth pulls to the side. “I overheard Mom and Dad fighting. Is it true we’re going to lose the house?”
Ugh. I know I should be honest, but she’s still a kid. I don’t want her to worry. “No. You must’ve misheard them. Everything’s fine,” I lie. “We’ve got a solid plan in place to grow the business and turn things around quickly.” I tap the end of her nose. “Soon we’ll be making enough to send you to the Culinary Institute of America in New York.” I know going there is her dream. Eliza wants to go to Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.
“I’m not holding my breath. The tuition alone costs over a hundred grand.”
Yikes. That is a lot.
“But the institute here has a summer program—one month, ten thousand dollars,” she adds. “Maybe I can go to that? I mean, at least I’ll have it on my résumé—that is if you really think things are going to turn around?”