Charley’s and Dorian’s.
Here’s your opening, girl. Tell Dorian the truth. Tell him everything, then throw yourself at his feet and beg for his forgiveness.
Maybe there was a way to stop this before it went any further. A way to stop Rudy altogether—not just from robbing Dorian, but from all the other heists to come.
If anyone could help her figure things out, it was Dorian Redthorne, immortal vampire king.
“What is it, love?” he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek again, his brow tight with worry.
“Dorian, there’s something… I need to…” She sucked in a deep breath, then opened her mouth again, ready to confess every last sin. But when the words finally broke free, all that came out was, “I need to get back to Sasha.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Will you do me a favor?” Charlotte asked.
They were standing in the circular drive, Jameson holding the limo door for her, ready to ferry her back to the city. Dorian had wanted to accompany them, but of course Charlotte insisted on going alone. He was lucky he’d convinced her to accept Jameson’s services at all.
His woman, he was quickly learning, was not big on compromise.
Under normal circumstances, neither was Dorian. But nothing about his interactions with Charlotte D’Amico had ever been normal, and now, after the way they’d shared their bodies last night—not to mention their secrets this afternoon—Dorian’s world was completely upside-down.
All he wanted to do was drag her back into the manor, tie her down, and push her right back to the edge—a dark, dangerous place they both craved. He’d heard it in her soft moans of pleasure, felt it in the way her body had responded to his punishing touch.
Yet here she was, leaving him again.
Asking for favors, no less.
“What is it?” he asked, doing his damnedest to keep the frustration from his tone.
Keeping her voice low, she said, “Can you get in touch with your art buyer, try to find out more about Hermes and the LaPorte?”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“I… I can’t tell you. Not until I know more.” She closed her eyes, the lines around her mouth deepening. “But Dorian? This has to stay quiet. Please don’t involve anyone other than the buyer and his connections. I can’t risk it.”
Trouble.
The alarm clanged in his head again. As much as he’d tried to deny it, her actions at the Salvatore and inside his own home last night—not to mention her evasiveness about the stolen artwork—convinced him she was into something nefarious. But Dorian couldn’t discern whether she’d caused the trouble, or she’d just been caught in the crossfire.
He still wasn’t convinced she didn’t have connections to Chernikov, either, or the other greater vampire families looking to make a power play, or any name on the increasingly long list of enemies eager to turn the Redthornes to ash.
But deep inside, he wanted to trust her. To help her, even if he was only helping her put the final stake through his heart.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
Again, she didn’t answer.
“You’re hiding something,” he said, frustration finally bubbling over. “You’ve been nothing but cagey since our first meeting, and now you’re standing on my property, asking for favors to which you’re not entitled, nor have you earned. I demand to know—”
“Don’t. Please.” With a gentle touch, she cupped his face, her eyes full of regret. “I realize how shady this sounds, but—”
“Darling, you have no bloody idea. I’ve met career politicians more honest and straightforward than you, even before I compelled them.”
A wounded look flickered through her gaze, and she removed her hand, but Dorian stood by his words. She was shady. Shady, frustrating, witty, intelligent, adventurous, beautiful, incredibly sexy, and quickly infiltrating his very bones.
“I know I haven’t earned the right to ask for this,” she said, “but—”
“You don’t trust me. After everything we’ve already shared.”
“You shouldn’t trust me, either, Dorian Redthorne. We’re still strangers. And we’re talking about stolen artwork here. The kind of information that can lead to some really unsavory places.”
“Like my bed?” He’d meant it to sound angry, but it came out more like a taunt.
Charlotte couldn’t help her smile, and for a moment Dorian was so relieved to see the light return to her eyes, he almost stopped caring about the secrecy.
“I wouldn’t call your bed an unsavory place.” She took a step closer, sliding her hands over his shoulders, the sudden press of her body after so long without it quickly sending him into overdrive.
He slid his hands into her hair, drawing her even closer. “I have other unsavory beds, you know. A great many of them. Beds you haven’t yet had the pleasure of being bound to and thoroughly ravished upon.”
His cock twitched at the thought, and her eyes darkened with desire, blood racing hot through her veins.
But then she closed her eyes and pulled back, leaving him with nothing to embrace but the crisp autumn air and an armload of regrets.
“Goodbye, Dorian Redthorne,” she said softly. “Thank you, as always, for a lovely time.”
Dorian pressed a hand to his heart. “Ah, she bids me farewell, and yet my questions remain unanswered, the mystery of Charlotte D’Amico eternally unsolved.”
“I need more information,” she said, impatience snapping through her words. “Can you do me that favor? Talk to your guy?”
In response, Dorian grabbed her shoulders and hauled her close, claiming her in a kiss so fierce, so protective, so possessive, it left no doubt about his intentions. Then, finally breaking for air, he kissed a path to her ear and whispered, “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Charlotte gave him a grateful smile, which Dorian reluctantly returned. He’d given in to her demands today, but she was going to have to start talking, sooner rather than later. Because after this weekend, whatever trouble Charlotte was heading for, whatever “unsavory places” awaited her, Dorian was going right down with her.
Whether she liked it or not.
She slid into the limo, and Jameson closed the door behind her.
“I shall take good care of her, sir,” he said.
“I’ve no doubts, Jameson,” Dorian replied. Then, in a low voice, “Keep the GPS activated. I’ll be right behind you.”
Chapter Forty
Charley could not stop shaking.
She was so livid, so out of her damn mind with rage, she could barely think straight, let alone get her body to cooperate. It was all she could do to give Jameson the address change, and hope like hell he didn’t rat her out to Dorian.
She was in enough trouble with the vampire as it was. The last thing she needed was Dorian finding out she didn’t go home, after she’d insisted over and over she needed to get back to Sasha.
Leaving Ravenswood, she had every intention of doing just that. But halfway across the Tappan Zee Bridge, she’d gotten a call from a frantic, freaked-out Sasha that changed everything.