Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1)

by Charli B. Rose

  “What?” I asked, as she looked up at me with a mixture of awe and fascination.

  “Nothing, just thinking.”

  “About?” I prodded. My need to know everything that went on inside her head increased each day.

  “About how much change you’ve seen in the world since you’ve been alive.”

  “Pfft. Me being alive is debatable,” I scoffed, shaking my head.

  “You breathe.”

  “Some, but it isn’t as necessary for me.”

  She stepped up to me until we were chest to chest. She laid her palm over my heart. “Your heart beats.”

  “Again, some. Not as much as yours.”

  Rising on her tiptoes, she inched her face closer to mine until her words were whispered against my lips, “Yours is pounding pretty hard right now.”

  “A side effect of your nearness,” I rasped out.

  “You feel,” she said and before I could offer any argument, her lips claimed mine in a possessive kiss. This was only the second kiss she’d ever initiated. It erased all coherent thought and before long, I couldn’t remember what we were debating.

  When we were both breathless, she pulled back. “You’re alive, and that’s not debatable.”

  I had to get a grip. Forcing air in and out through my clenched teeth, I silently counted out the beats to the first sonnet I ever learned to play. In a few moments, I was marginally in control. I gave her a tiny smile. “Ready to go?” I asked.

  She nodded and added, “I’m starving.”

  “Then let’s wait no longer.” I guided her to the waiting elevator with my hand at the small of her back.

  Amazingly, the ride down in the elevator went much more quickly than any of the elevator rides we’d taken thus far today. Maybe because this time I wasn’t in a hurry for it to be over.

  In no time, we were cruising down highway 35 on the way to Sedotti dal Cibo, the super exclusive Italian restaurant that was all the rage.

  “So, have you been to this restaurant before?” she asked.

  “No. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about the food, though. But I never had a desire to go before now.” With the press of a button, the car filled with the soft sounds of piano music.

  “Why not? I heard the fountains inside were gorgeous. And that it was incredibly romantic.” She sighed.

  “Exactly. I had no need for romantic ambience before. It isn’t the place you go and dine alone. Definitely not the atmosphere for a business meeting. And all the women I’ve seen, if you could even call it that, weren’t women I carried on dates. Shoot, they weren’t even around long enough to take out.” I winced at how that sounded. I’d never cared about appearances before, so why now?

  “Oh, so you didn’t date?” her voice almost sounded relieved.

  My fingers gripped the steering wheel harder. “No. All my personal interactions with women for the past ninety-plus years have been of the mutually beneficial, yet short-term, variety. That’s why I’m so incredibly deficient at this with you.”

  She reached over and squeezed my knee reassuringly. “You are not incredibly deficient, only minorly.” She held up her thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “And I’d guess it should be expected if you’ve only had one-night stands for the past century.”

  I turned my head to look at her teasing grin. “Hey! It hasn’t quite been a century. And in the interest of full disclosure, they don’t even really qualify as one-night stands. That would imply they lasted a night.”

  “So, when was your last relationship?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Can we table that topic until a time when we aren’t on a date, please?” Damn, did I just call this a date?

  “You don’t want to tell me?” Her teeth captured her lower lip like they always seemed to when she was nervous or anxious.

  “It’s not that I want to hide my past from you. It’s just the last thing I want when I’m out on a romantic date with you is for either of us to be thinking of other women . . .. Well, maybe you thinking of other women would be hot,” I teased to lighten the mood and distract her from the fact that I’d called this a date twice within the past five seconds.

  She smacked my arm in a teasing manner. “We can talk about it later. I really want to know you better.”

  “Oh right . . ..” I swallowed hard, forcing the disappointment from my voice. “You need to understand me better for the webpage construction. Know where I’m coming from and all.” Why was I so upset that her curiosity was an extension of the job I hired her for?

  “Well, I suppose it would help with the work side of things. But it isn’t why I asked. I wasn’t even thinking about my job. I was thinking about you. I want to know everything about you. I want to know you.” Her palms smoothed away non-existent wrinkles from her skirt.

  I turned to look at her, watching the road out of the corner of my eye. “Be careful what you wish for, Celesta. I’m not a stellar human being. I’ve done a lot of bad things. Unspeakable things. Things I’m ashamed of.”

  I desperately didn’t want her to know about all the dark recesses that made me who and what I was. I was afraid if she saw the darkness, then she’d be afraid and would flee my darkness in search of light.

  “Toven, everyone’s done bad things. I’m sure since you’ve been around longer than most that means you’ve had the opportunity to do more bad things than the average man. But it also means you’ve had ample opportunity to do more good than the average man as well. And you have goodness in you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. So, for now, I still want to know everything I can about you.” Sincerity radiated from her expression.

  Her words and faith in me caused something deep inside to swell to near bursting. It was a novel and confusing feeling which made me short of breath. Never in my existence had I longed to prove someone right as much as I wanted to prove her right. I wanted to be the man she thought I was. And I vowed right then and there to strive for that with every breath in my body until I had no breath left to give. Even when my breaths were no longer my own, even when they belonged to a heartless master, I’d fight with every fiber of my being to be the man Celesta thought I could be.

  “The journey to learning who I am is a walk through darkness with many pitfalls and only the smallest of candle flames to guide the way,” I warned.

  She tilted her head and gazed at me. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not afraid of the dark then, huh?”

  “You should be.”

  We’d arrived at the small but opulent restaurant. A tuxedo-dressed valet approached my door, while a second one opened Celesta’s. Neither man batted an eye at my car, but they looked upon Celesta with distaste as she exited the passenger side in her business skirt and blouse.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I fear you’ve wasted a trip to Sedotti dal Cibo. We’re only able to accommodate people with reservations,” the man by Celesta’s door said in a snooty voice.

  He obviously had no idea who I was. He’d judged us unworthy to eat here because of Celesta’s attire. I could see I was going to have to embarrass these gentlemen by name dropping.

  “Gentlemen, I believe if you check with Chef Bottura, she’ll inform you that your riservato per romance table is ours for the evening.” At the mention of the owner, both men’s faces fell.

  One of them finally spoke up, “Our apologies, sir. May we tell Chef Bottura who’s here?”

  “Please tell her Toven Adams is here, and if she has a moment, I’d love to say hello and introduce her to my girlfriend.” I pulled my suit jacket lapels to straighten the fabric out.

  “Yes, sir. Please follow me to your table.” With a stiff spine and a red flush creeping up his neck, he led us toward the restaurant.

  I wrapped a comforting arm around Celesta’s waist as we followed one of the snobby men through the wrought iron gate.

  “I’m so sorry about that. Adrianna would be appalled to know her employees treated us this way,” I whispered to her.

  “It�
��s fine. Maybe coming here straight from work wasn’t the smartest decision.” She self-consciously tugged on her blouse.

  “Our attire is no excuse for poor manners, and I’ll let Adrianna know. She’s been begging me to come try out her restaurant. She promised to always have a table reserved for me from eight to ten whenever I wanted to give it a shot.”

  We walked down a cobblestone trail through a lush garden on the way to a building which looked like it could’ve been lifted straight off the streets of Venice and set down here. All discussion ceased when we crossed the threshold into the breathtaking interior. The corridor led to a beautiful dancing fountain which took up the entire center of the room. Positioned nearly completely around the fountain was a shiny black wall that extended about seven feet high. A glance around the room revealed no tables and no people milling about. The sounds of conversations couldn’t be detected over the sound of the falling water. The path circled to the right and left of the opening in the wall that revealed the fountain.

  The valet led us to the right. As we followed him, the very thick, black wall blocked our view of the fountain. He finally stopped after we’d walked halfway around and pressed his palm to a small divot in the wall. With the simple press, the wall began to move. It wasn’t a wall at all but a glass panel. We anxiously peered into the interior. I’d heard rumors about this place, but none of them did it justice. This wasn’t just a romantic restaurant—it was a romantic experience.

  The back wall which appeared to be black glass from outside was actually a two-way mirror that allowed the fountain to be viewed from inside the booth. Inside was a stunningly set table with real silver, crystal glassware, candles and a rose. The seating was a plush red couch which formed a semicircle around the table. Soft music played in the background.

  “Please have a seat, and someone will be with you momentarily. If you should need assistance before then, please press the white button over there.” He gestured to a small intercom by the door panel.

  I helped Celesta climb up into the booth to the right, while I sat across from her on the left. She looked around at everything, seeming amazed by all she saw. The door panel slid shut, and she turned her eyes to me.

  “Toven, this is . . . wow. I didn’t even know places like this existed.”

  “I had no idea this place was so beautiful and romantic myself. Adrianna really outdid herself.”

  Before we could talk anymore, a soft knock sounded on the door of the booth.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  The panel slid open to reveal Chef Adrianna Bottura.

  “Toven, it’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

  When she stood back up, she glanced at Celesta. “I’m so glad you finally decided to take advantage of your standing reservation. Who’s the lovely young woman who convinced you to give my cooking a try?”

  “Adrianna, this is my girlfriend Celesta. Celesta, this is an old friend from Italy.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Chef Bottura. I apologize I arrived underdressed for your establishment. I came straight from work,” Celesta hastily explained as she offered Adrianna her hand.

  “Nonsense. I have no dress code here. As long as people can afford to eat here, I don’t care what they wear. It seems I may need to have a training session with my staff, though. And it’s lovely to meet you. Please, call me Adrianna.” Adrianna gave her hand a shake.

  “Adrianna, you have a beautiful place here,” Celesta gushed, still in awe of everything.

  “Thank you. I wanted to create something different. Something that’d be an experience, not just a meal. It’s designed to be the ultimate date-night outing. I’m still working out the details, so if you have any suggestions after your meal, please let me know.” She looked around, taking in her creation.

  “Well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be to you. Romantic dinners are outside my realm of expertise,” I offered.

  “Toven, if the lady leaves with a glow and smile on her face, then I’d say you did well.” Adrianna winked at me.

  A hearty chuckle rumbled through my chest. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Adrianna, do you have any recommendations, as the chef?” Celesta asked.

  She tapped a finger to her chin. “Do you trust my judgment?”

  “Sure,” Celesta answered warily.

  “Any food allergies?”

  “No.” The wariness still remained in that single syllable answer.

  “Then I’ll handle your meal from start to finish. It’ll be a surprise. I’ll bring each course to you myself. What’ll you have to drink?” Adrianna said, her tone businesslike.

  “I’ll have water please,” Celesta requested.

  “I’ll have a glass of B-negative, and we’ll take a bottle of the finest wine you recommend for whatever you’ll be cooking,” I added.

  “Perfect. And Toven, I have AB-negative if you’d prefer,” Adrianna offered.

  “No thanks. The B-negative is just fine.” I didn’t wish to tempt myself by imbibing on blood the same flavor as that which coursed through Celesta’s veins.

  “Very well. These booths are designed for optimal privacy and romantic ambience. You should feel as if you’re the only two people in the restaurant. The glass is designed so you can see out and no one can see in. If you need anything, press the button on the intercom. No one will interrupt your dining experience without first knocking on the door and getting permission to enter. I’ll return with your beverages momentarily,” Adrianna explained with a smile.

  With that, she shut the glass door. The soft music was the only thing to be heard for several heartbeats. We both seemed to be enthralled with our surroundings.

  “Toven, this won’t get your name in the papers,” Celesta said, a hint of protest in her voice.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “Well, I thought the reason you wanted to come to a place that’s been making headlines on its own was so we’d get noticed and the gossip pages would talk about you. You know, get your name in the papers. But no one is going to see us in here. This outing won’t make the news.” Her fingers twisted atop the table’s surface.

  Reaching over, I gently untangled her fingers and clasped one of her hands in mine. “While I haven’t eaten here before, I was aware the dining was private. Given, I had no idea how private. But I didn’t bring you here for publicity. I brought you here for us.”

  “Oh.”

  A soft tap on the door halted our conversation. A pretty young woman opened the door once I bade her to enter. Carefully, she placed our glasses in front of us. She glanced at Celesta several times as she poured our glasses of wine.

  “I’m sorry for staring, but I wanted to tell you I loved that dress you wore to the party last night,” the server finally admitted after she caught my glare.

  Celesta tilted her head to the side. “Oh, you were at the party?”

  “No . . . I saw your picture online. I know I shouldn’t follow those gossip pages, but I can’t seem to help myself. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that your dress was gorgeous, and the two of you make a beautiful couple,” she gushed like we were celebrities.

  “I didn’t realize anyone had taken our picture at the party. Did you, Toven?” Celesta looked at me puzzled.

  I pursed my lips as I quickly replayed each moment of the party. “No. I didn’t check online this morning. But since I didn’t see paparazzi milling around, I figured we’d slipped under their radar.”

  “Those websites don’t always publish their own photos. So, someone attending the party probably submitted them,” our ever-knowledgeable server informed us.

  “Well, I guess we should check them out. Thank you for making us aware.” I tipped my head at her and took a sip of my B-negative.

  “No problem.” And she stepped away, shutting the door behind her.

  I pulled out my cell phone and quickly searched my name. Surprisingly, a ton of new hits popped up where I w
as a virtual ghost just a few days ago. I clicked on the top link. It redirected me to one of the leading celebrity gossip sites.

  “Toven Adams, photographed with mystery woman for second time,” I read the headline out loud. The article went on discuss the party and made mention of some of the other big names who were in attendance. But the only photographs posted showed Celesta and I—laughing, chatting, embracing, dancing, her whispering in my ear. Someone had spent a lot of time trailing us during the party, capturing us over the course of the evening. I had to admit we did look really good together. Gazing at myself, I examined my features, trying to decipher the expression in my eyes.

  “Do I look OK in the photos?” Celesta asked, her voice warbling with nerves.

  “You look breathtaking,” I responded and held the phone out to her.

  As she scrolled through the images she asked, “How long do you think it’ll take before they figure out my name?”

  “Honestly, I’m surprised they don’t have it already. You were introduced around the party.”

  “True.” She scrolled through the image gallery once more, scrutinizing each photo before handing the phone back to me. “At least the pictures aren’t embarrassing, and they didn’t say anything mean about me in the article.”

  I couldn’t help the growl that slipped from my lips. “If they know what’s good for them, they won’t do it in the future, either.”

  “Since we made the news last night, I guess it’s OK we’re out of the limelight tonight,” she said with a wink.

  “Touché.”

  “Do you think these pictures are what had that woman at your office in a tizzy this morning?”

  “Now that you mention it, yes, it probably does explain her behavior. But it really is none of her business how I spend my time.” My anger started to rise just thinking of Lydia and her attitude today.