by Sophia North
"I haven't the slightest interest in Darius's plight. I'd see him dead with the demented Haan trapped inside. Call it poetic justice. And once Dante is back, we will ensure that is exactly what happens."
"Touché. But as you are in no position to join the search at present, I hope your offer for assistance here in London still stands. Only half of my Guard have arrived. But none have the depth of knowledge you hold on the workings of Lowerton and those loyal to it."
Vlad snorted derisively. "Didn't fucking feel that way when I had to dig their knives out of my back, metaphorically speaking."
Suddenly Gabe sensed the arrival he'd been patiently awaiting.
'Right, time to find the appropriate sort of distraction. Now, how best to accomplish the feat? Hannah will need a full-on diversion - no dessert shall pass her lips.'
Rebeka Woodville's silent running commentary captured Gabriel's attention. Finally, progress on getting closer to the alluring Hannah Woodville could be made.
'Damn, I should have listened to Freddie and brought him along. I cannot exactly show up at the table on my own. Pierce will never believe I just happened to be so famished I've come to Claridge's on my own for a meal. Perhaps I could charm someone into taking me for a meal...yes, that's it, Beks! Step one: seduce your way to a distraction.'
Gabriel sat listening to the young woman's internal ramblings and grinned. He loved it when a plan came together. Her mind was wide open to him. It would be easy pickings.
Looking Vlad hard in the eyes, Gabe concentrated his thoughts and exploited the influence he knew he had over the man. Vlad's mind may be strong for a mere mortal but stood no chance against his Praetor one.
Vlad caught the look and bit out at word of warning. "I wouldn't try it, mate. I've attempted to be civil but if you insist on being a cunt - we will have more than words. I know you'll beat the shite out of me, but I reckon I'll manage to land a few good punches. And have no doubt, I will be sure to make them count."
Ignoring his bluster, Gabe sent his command with singular intent. 'Hungry. Dinner. Nothing else.'
On cue, Vlad said: "Fuck, I'm famished. Let's continue our conversation over dinner. The thought of Penny's cooking, or Simone's for that matter, is most unappealing."
"That sounds like an excellent plan."
With perfect execution, Gabe emerged from the booth at the exact moment Rebeka was passing by on the hunt for a target.
Colliding with a hard chest, Beka felt herself gripped by a pair of strong hands to help steady her. Embarrassed by her clumsiness, she was about to offer her abject apologies when the words fell silent on her lips.
My goodness, who was this godly piece of flesh holding her? His chiselled features and obviously well-toned body were accompanied by the most amazing deep green eyes Rebeka had ever beheld. And despite him being far too old for her, she was not fool enough to dismiss his incredible masculine appeal.
Gabriel listened to all of her erratic thoughts with increasing pleasure. Hannah's good looks were evident in her younger sister. The main difference being, Rebeka Woodville had rich chestnut red hair as opposed to Hannah's raven locks.
"I am ever so sorry," she gushed, still in his grasp. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
It was a ridiculous notion. Gabe could withstand bullets. Rebeka's body slam had been nothing more than encountering a light brush of wind.
"No damage done, my sweet," he replied, returning her upright. "However, I feel it is I who should be apologising and inquiring about any sustained injury."
Further time for assessment allowed Rebeka to come to appreciate her 'saviour' even more. His smart three-piece suit, rather than being the sort one might find one's grandfather wearing, was in truth a very sexy look. Especially as he favoured an all black look, which gave him a dangerous Global Financier air. His dark midnight stylishly cut hair fell rakishly across his brow and made his eyes stand out even more.
Her Uni friends would be pea green with envy over her luck. They were already complaining at how immature the Oxbridge male options were, but then again, as heiresses on the search for future husbands their standards were high. No penniless peddlers of prose need apply. Beka's friends were notoriously snobby when it came to bank balances.
Rebeka laughed softly, deliberately dropping the octave of her voice in an effort to appear older. "I can assure you, 'no harm, no foul' took place."
Her mind was already working a mile a minute at devising a way to utilise her good fortune. If finding a distraction was the order of the night, there was no reason she couldn't enjoy herself as well. And having this impressive man on her arm would certainly cause the necessary stir required.
Gabe listened as she tried to formulate how to use their chance encounter to further her own ends. But he was already ten steps ahead.
"I insist you allow me to make amends," he returned charmingly. "Please join my associate and I for dinner. We were just on our way. Vlad, surely we should invite the delightful..." He glanced at Rebeka to fill in the blank.
"Woodville...Rebeka," she stammered, slightly disoriented by his devastating smile. "But please, call me Beka."
"Woodville?" Vlad asked, starting to piece the connection together. Gabe's sharp look reinforced his earlier command to maintain the agreed topics for conversation.
Vlad grimaced slightly from the force of Gabriel's will as it invaded his mind. His eyes flashed with anger at his inability to control what he really wanted to say. And so, when the obligatory dinner invite burst from his lips after the necessary introductions, his gaze narrowed menacingly at the manipulative vamp.
Unable to believe how easy it was to find such willing accomplices, Beka linked arms with Gabriel. "Dinner sounds fabulous. However, I must insist on paying."
Chapter Nine
UNSURE HOW MUCH LONGER she could slowly consume her main course, Hannah took another small bite from her fork. There had to be a limit at how far she could take this, but regardless of how ludicrous it looked, she was determined to draw out the meal.
Where on earth was Rebeka?
It was unlike her baby sister to be quite so late to the show.
Surely Hannah had impressed upon her the utmost urgency in answering her plea for help. Pierce was preparing to propose, for cribbins sake!
"Darling, are you alright? You have been pecking at your food for nearly an hour." Pierce's probing gaze of concern made Hannah feel ten times worse than she already did. He didn't deserve this sort of treatment. Most women would have been thrilled at the notion of becoming his wife.
He was handsome, successful but more importantly kind and patient. Extremely patient.
Hannah was not the easiest woman to have a relationship with. She preferred to not have relationships. They tended to be far too demanding of her. Hence her very limited experience with the practice. To date she'd had three 'serious' ones and not one, not ever, casual fling.
As for sex...well, she wasn't quite certain what all the fuss was about. Her first time had been an awkward, painful affair with her first boyfriend Richard. They dated on and off for a couple of years while at Cambridge together. When she'd found out he'd cheated on her no tears were shed. She was grateful for the excuse to end it, as well as the excuse to draw out her disinterest in dating for a goodly amount of time. Playing the outraged victim of a cheater kept matchmaking do-gooders at bay.
Her next foray into the world of pleasure had been much more satisfying. It lasted for one summer. Short and sweet, with no future strings attached.
But it wasn't casual. Far from it. That summer in the hot Turkish sun Hannah's life changed forever. It was the same summer the Ophanim Order became interested in her, not that she knew it at the time. They didn't actually approach her about joining until she'd completed her PhD years later.
She'd been sent on an archaeological dig in the north of the country by her parents. They were convinced the site would hold many revelations to assist with her upcoming MPhil thesis and had insisted she went.
They were friends with the dig's Lead archaeologist Simon Kinsley, a Harvard Professor of Ancient History, and were more than happy to call in a favour to secure her a place.
It was 2011 and the world was obsessed with the Mayans, making a dig in Turkey not at all de rigueur for those seeking the limelight. Hannah knew many of her peers were keen to focus their academic futures on the exploration of Mesoamerican culture. Their hope was to either debunk the 'End of the World' prophecy or make an extraordinary discovery that would reveal the deeper meaning behind it.
Hannah's interest in Western Civilisation's anthropological evolution was seen as so eighteenth century. Not that she objected to the pursuit of further, and much needed, research into the Mesoamerican culture. But she found those from her generation who'd taken up the torch were far too interested in landing a documentary deal than partaking in good old fashioned research.
Reluctantly, Hannah had accepted her parents offer. She was not one for the heat and the thought of three months in the baking sun as close to a version of hell as she could imagine. But she was keen to spend some time at the site. There were rumours the team there were unearthing evidence of a temple dedicated to Cassandra - the famous seer from Homer's Iliad, cursed to know the future but have no one believe her.
Hannah's interest in the find related to her research into the ancient Sibyls. These legendary women were found in countless works of art, from old carvings to Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling, their prophecies captured the minds of Western thought for centuries. And a temple dedicated to Cassandra would be the next link back in the chain.
Arriving in Izmit to meet her parents' 'old' friend, Hannah had been stunned to discover Simon Kingsley was far from the doddering professor she'd expected. In his mid-forties, the years he'd spent outdoors gave him a lithe, strong body and handsome rugged looks. The only 'tell' of his age being a liberal sprinkling of silver in his dark chestnut hair. But otherwise he could have easily passed for a man in his early thirties.
Simon should have been firmly in the 'off-limits' column in terms of romantic interest - he was: a) a friend of her parents, regardless of age; and b) she was far too young for him, despite her recently graduating from Cambridge with her Bachelor's degree.
But a summer romance with an older man was what it turned out to be. Their lovemaking had been gentle and in a way...profound. Simon was not a highly sexed alpha in his twenties, he preferred long foreplay and rarely penetrated her. Although there were times when Hannah had wanted him to ravish her.
"Hannah?"
Pierce's sharp tone startled her back to the present. Why had she become so lost in thought about past lovers? It seemed a strange time to reminisce.
"Apologies, Pierce," she replied. "I think I am still overwhelmed by your news. Are you certain being CEO is what you really want? Your mother will never forgive me for luring you over to this side of the pond. She thought you living in New York bad enough, but London? I'm not sure she'll handle it."
"When I land the most lucrative merger in the company's history and increase her share price ten-fold, she'll get over it," he joked. "And with the impending Brexit doom, the City is the place to be. I'll take over New York next."
Hannah laughed at his wit. He really was wonderful company. But why did she feel so reluctant to commit? The OO could still be a part of her future. She just wouldn't be a fully initiated member. And it wasn't like she was ready to commit herself to them either.
Damn. Maybe the crux of the matter was that Hannah didn't know what she wanted to commit to - if anything at all.
There was also one other small issue in relation to her reluctance to marry Pierce. She avoided sleeping with him as much as she could. A feat which turned out to be surprisingly easy over the past three years thanks to their transatlantic set-up.
It wasn't that Pierce was an unsatisfactory lover. In many ways he reminded her of Simon, not that she ever mentioned his name. But Pierce sometimes wanted to go places Hannah was uncomfortable with. He always respected her boundaries and had never made an issue over her subtle cues. In fact, they never discussed their sex life, which suited her to no end.
But marriage? Could they really marry one another knowing neither would ever be happy in the bedroom?
"Lord, please do not bring up the "B" word. The Woodville household has decreed the topic banned. It seems quite impossible to have any sort of a reasonable discussion on the matter," Hannah teased back. "And as for your London coup, I am sure you will take the City by storm. This Charrington fund sounds like an ideal 'whale' to land."
"If only I knew more about this new CEO of theirs. I had been making excellent headway with Zack Bancroft. Now there was a man who knew how to enjoy the finer things in life - strange guy, though. But definitely pliable. I cannot get anything out of this new CEO's assistant, let alone introduce myself."
"Hannah, Pierce! How delightful to run into you."
Saved by Rebeka at last.
Hannah swivelled in her chair to greet her sister, but the words died in her throat.
Perched on the arm of one Gabriel Rosetti, Rebeka grinned like the Cheshire Cat at her sister. Dressed to impress in a short shimmering ice blue number, Rebeka looked perfectly at home beside her dangerously handsome companion.
"Rebeka, what the hell are you doing with that man?" Pierce thundered out, shattering his usual calm, cool manner.
Oh dear. Things just went combustible.
For a brief second, a look of panic flashed through Beka's eyes. She'd no idea why Pierce was reacting with such venom but was about to find out.
"Unrich, isn't it?" Gabe returned deftly, deliberately getting Pierce’s name wrong. It also directed the man's censure onto the correct target. Him.
Gabriel had tapped into Rebeka's blind panic over Pierce's harsh accusation. He did not appreciate upsetting women unless there was a need. And there was no need for this prick to behave in such a manner.
Add to that Gabe's knowledge of where the man's unwholesome thoughts had gone at seeing Rebeka Woodville with him and one had a recipe for disaster.
What was Hannah doing with this twat? Either Pierce was a consummate actor or she had no idea what truly lurked behind his mask.
"Nelson-Aldrich," Pierce corrected tightly - the barb on his name was not lost on those present.
"Yes, of course. Apologies, it is hard to remember everyone one meets these days. Lady Woodville, you are looking as beautiful as ever this evening." Gabe’s gaze captured Hannah's with a deep smouldering look.
"You two know each other?" Rebeka asked, her confusion growing greater by the second.
Gabe broke his gaze from Hannah to look at Rebeka. "We are new acquaintances, my sweet."
Hannah bristled slightly at the vamp's seductive tone with her baby sister. Beka had no idea supernatural beings existed and Hannah preferred to keep it that way. The last thing she needed was Beka mooning over a vampyre-in-disguise. Besides he was far, far too old for her - be it in vampyre years or otherwise. Yet, her inner conscience scolded her for having double standards. She had not been much older than Rebeka when she'd had her summer affair with Simon.
From behind the cosy duo the hulking figure of Vlad appeared. Hannah nearly gasped in alarm at how her tangled web of OO business was suddenly converging on her.
"Bloody hell, I'm famished, mate," he commented when he reached the group.
Pierce's eyes widened in recognition. "You're Vlad MacGregor, are you not?" he asked, unable to believe his good luck.
Vlad stayed silent for a moment until he remembered that he was in fact Vlad MacGregor. It was still taking some time to get used to his new identity since marrying Penny...oh, and becoming human again.
Penny had insisted that he take her name, which was no bother to him, but he wasn't sure if he liked the whole 'known' aspect of being human again.
"Yes, I am," he replied gruffly. The man's American accent immediately set Vlad on edge. He respected the Yanks for their 'free market' w
ays but other than that he had very little time for them. They were always trying to barge their way into matters that need not concern them. Damn colonials.
Pierce was immediately up from the table and striding over to shake Vlad's hand. The momentary unpleasant exchange with Gabe forgotten. This was his chance to do business.
"It's fantastic to finally meet you! I'm Pierce Nelson-Aldrich the third," he exclaimed, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically. "Did you get the golf clubs my company sent over to welcome you to London? Hessler, Nelson & Aldrich. We've been doing business on the NY Stock Exchange since the twenties. The 1820s that is.”
Vlad raised an eyebrow. He was aware of the investment house...personally. They had made their fortune off the backs of the many who lost everything in the 1929 collapse by buying up assets for pennies on the dollar. It also hadn't hurt that they put their campaign donations behind a President who bankrolled the greatest investment in infrastructure projects America had ever seen. The New Deal. One had to love the irony of it. The birth of Socialist Capitalism and the Military Industrial-complex rolled into a seemingly progressive policy to deal with the Great Depression. Ah, but then history was littered with tales of unintended consequences.
Unfortunately for Pierce, Vlad knew of his great-grandfathers Patrick Nelson and Joseph Aldrich. And it was obvious to him that Pierce was nowhere near the man either of them had been. Fucking golf clubs.
"If I did, then 'cheers' for the effort. Gabe, come along man. There is a steak with my name on it."
Vlad was beginning to get more and more agitated over the vamp's power over him. He wasn't at all hungry and what he really wanted to say was: 'Fuck this shite, I'm outta here.' But no, the only words that seemed to come out of his mouth related to his appetite.
"Please, I insist you join us," Pierce implored, ignoring Vlad's barely veiled contempt. "I have the kitchen on stand-by. And you are here with Rebeka, we are practically family. Hannah, darling, you must insist Rebeka join us."
