Did she dare venture out of this house? It would hurt a lot worse if the Russians caught her.
After Shanna ate her sandwich in the kitchen and tried her best to ignore the pastry box of brownies on the table, she went upstairs to her room. She opened the door and peeked inside. The bed was empty. Shopping bags and boxes were piled at the foot of the bed. She took a long, hot shower.
Then, dressed in the chenille bathrobe, she went through the bags and boxes. It should have been fun, but she grew increasingly sad, knowing that the man footing the bill had just died.
Guilt needled her. She couldn't accept all these gifts. And she couldn't stay here. She needed to contact the U.S. marshal, Bob Mendoza, and then she needed to start a new life somewhere else. A place where she knew no one, and no one knew her. Again.
God, it was depressing. As part of the Witness Protection Program, she could never contact family or old friends. But she craved companionship. She wanted love. She hadn't realized how much until she had met Roman. Damn. It wasn't like she was asking for too much from life. She only wanted the same thing a jillion other women wanted—a career she was proud of, a husband who would love her, and children. Beautiful children.
Unfortunately, desperate times had altered her goal in life. Now each day was a survival test.
She wandered toward the window and its ugly aluminum shutters. She located a switch behind the curtains and flipped it. The shutters opened and dim sunlight entered the room.
The view was lovely. Below her was a tree-lined street and in the distance, Central Park. The sun was setting in the west, casting purple and pink streaks into wispy clouds. Shanna stood at the window and watched. A feeling of peace descended on her with the night. Perhaps she would live through all this. If only Roman was still alive.
Could Radinka be right, and he was simply sleeping off a large dose of anesthesia? Shanna winced.
It was awful that she couldn't remember what she'd done to the poor man. Maybe she should stick around for a little longer. Either Roman would be declared officially dead, or he would miraculously wake up. Either way, she couldn't leave until she knew for sure.
She selected some clothes and dressed. Inside the armoire, she found a television. Good. She could veg out while she waited. She flipped through channels. Whoa, here was a channel she'd never seen before. An animated black bat flew toward her, then it froze into a logo that looked a bit like Batman. Underneath was a message. Welcome to DVN. On 24/7 because it's always nighttime somewhere.
DVN? Something Video Network? And what did nighttime have to do with a network being on air? The bat logo disappeared, and another line appeared on the screen. DV7V. If you're not digital, you can't be seen. That was odd. A knock sounded at the door, interrupting her thoughts. She turned off the television and went to the door. It was probably Phil. He seemed to be in charge of the fourth floor.
"Connor!" She yelped in surprise. "You're back!"
"Aye." He stood there, smiling. "That I am."
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I'm so glad to see you."
He pulled back, his cheeks blushing. "I hear ye had a wee scare."
"Oh, it's terrible, isn't it? I'm so sorry, Connor." "Now, why would ye be sorry, lass? 'Tis Mr. Draganesti himself who sent me here. He's wanting to see you."
Her skin chilled with goose bumps. "That… that can't be."
"He wants to see you right away. I'll take you up there."
He was alive? "I know the way." Shanna ran for the stairs.
CHAPTER 11
Roman Draganesti woke up with no memory of how he had returned to his bed. He was lying on top of the suede comforter with his clothes and shoes still on. He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. The wire splint was still there. He felt the fang with his fingers. Solid. Of course, he wasn't sure if the fang could still extend and retract, and it would be impossible to put it to test as long as the tooth was wired in place. He'd have to convince Shanna to remove the splint.
After a quick shower, he threw on a bathrobe and padded into his office to check for messages. Radinka's spidery handwriting caught his eye. She'd completed the shopping for Shanna. Good. She was going to Romatech early to make sure everything was ready for the Gala Opening Ball. Since she was now working night and day, she felt she deserved another raise. Another one? Fine.
Jean-Luc Echarpe and Angus MacKay, French and British coven masters, were due to arrive at five in the morning. Good. The guest rooms on the third floor were ready for them. Roman was planning to introduce two new taste sensations from his line of Fusion Cuisine at the Opening Ball. Five hundred bottles had been prepared for the event. Everything was looking great.
Then he read the last paragraph. Upon waking, Shanna Whelan had discovered him in her bed. Oh no. She had decided he was dead and became terribly upset. Oh shit. Of course she would think he was dead. During the day, he had no pulse. But on the bright side, this could mean that she actually cared about him.
Radinka had tried to convince Shanna that his heavy sleep was due to the anesthesia he had received at the dental clinic. Unfortunately, that theory only drove her to the conclusion that she'd killed him. Great. She was upset not because she felt any affection for him, but because she felt guilty. He could just imagine the scenario—Shanna running about the bedroom, upset, while he lay there like a dumb log. Shit.
Roman crushed the paper in his fist and tossed it into the trash. This was the last straw. He had to finish the formula that would allow him to stay awake during the day. He couldn't lie around helpless when Shanna needed him.
He punched a button on his intercom phone.
"Kitchen," a nasal voice answered.
"Howard, is that you?"
"Yes, sir! I'm glad to hear you're up and about. There was a little bit of excitement here while you were sleeping."
Roman could hear stifled laughter in the background. God's blood. You would think being master of the largest coven in North America would entitle him to a little respect.
"Not that we're complaining," Howard continued. "It's usually so boring around here. Oh, Connor just walked in."
"Howard, we have important guests coming in tonight. Your employer, Mr. MacKay, will be here. I expect heightened security during the day and absolute discretion."
"I understand, sir. We'll take good care of everyone. The Highlanders are coming in now, so I'll be going. Good night."
"Good night. Connor, are you there?"
There was a pause, then a beeping noise. "Aye, I'm here."
"Escort Miss Whelan to my office in ten minutes."
"Aye, sir."
Roman strode toward the wet bar, grabbed a bottle of synthetic blood from the mini-fridge, and popped it into the microwave. He headed back to his bedroom. There he pulled on a pair of black slacks and a gray dress shirt—an effort to look a little more formal since he had important guests arriving that night. Angus and his entourage would be dressed to the hilt in their Scottish finery.
Jean-Luc would be accompanied by his beautiful vampire models, all wearing his famous haute couture evening wear.
Stuffed in the back of his closet, Roman spotted the black tuxedo and matching cape that Jean-Luc had given him three years ago. Roman groaned. He'd have to wear the damned thing again. Maybe Jean-Luc enjoyed dressing like the Hollywood version of Dracula, but Roman preferred the more relaxed dress code of modern times. He removed the tuxedo from the closet. He'd have to get it pressed before the Gala Opening Ball.
The microwave dinged. His first meal for the evening was ready. He tossed the tuxedo onto his bed.
Just then, the outer door to the office slammed open.
"Roman?" Shanna yelled. "Are you there?" There was a definite edge to her voice. Nervous, breathless, near panic.
No way had that been ten minutes. She must have run the entire way. Damn. There went his breakfast.
"I'm in here," he answered and heard a responding gasp as he strode barefoot to the bed
room door. She was standing close to his desk, her face flushed from running, her pretty mouth agape. Her eyes widened as he moved into the office. "Oh my God," she whispered. Moisture shimmered in her eyes. She covered her mouth with trembling fingers.
God's blood, she'd been through hell. He looked down, embarrassed by the ordeal he'd put her through. Oh, great, he was a sight. His shirt was hanging open. His trousers were unbuttoned and low enough on his hips that his black boxer shorts were showing. He pushed his damp hair back from his face and cleared his throat. "I heard what happened."
She just stood there, staring at him.
Connor rushed through the door. "Sorry, sir. I tried to slow her down, but—" He noted Roman's state of dress. "Och, we should have knocked."
"You're alive." Shanna inched toward him.
The microwave dinged, a reminder bell that his breakfast was still waiting. And would have to wait until Shanna left.
Connor winced. He knew a vampire was always the hungriest when he first awoke. "We should come back later," he suggested to Shanna, "when Mr. Draganesti has finished dressing."
She didn't seem to hear Connor. She moved slowly toward Roman. He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. She smelled delicious, and that pale orange top made her look as juicy as a ripe peach. What little blood was left in his body surged toward his groin, leaving him doubly starved—for her flesh, and blood.
The intensity of his hunger must have been noticeable. Connor backed toward the door. "I'll be leaving you two alone, then." He eased out, shutting the door behind him.
Shanna was close enough to grab now. He curled his hands into fists, fighting the temptation. "I've been told that I frightened you. I'm sorry."
A tear escaped, but before it could reach her cheek, she brushed it away. "I'm just happy you're all right."
Did she really care that much? Roman watched her closely. Her gaze traveled the length of him, pausing at his bare chest, slipping lower to his stomach. Damn, he wanted her. He hoped his eyes weren't starting to glow.
"You're really all right." She touched his chest, a light touch with her fingertips, but it jolted him like a lightning bolt. He reacted swiftly, pulling her to him in a tight embrace.
She stiffened at first in surprise, then relaxed, nestling her cheek against the mat of curls on his chest. Her hands rested lightly on his shirt. "I was afraid I had lost you."
"I'm rather hard to get rid of, actually." God's blood, he was hungry. Control, stay in control.
"Radinka said I worked on your teeth last night."
"Yes."
"Let me see." She reached up to his mouth and examined the splint. "The tooth looks fine, a little more pointed than usual. It seems to have healed very quickly."
"Yes. You can remove the splint."
"What? No, I can't. These things take time." The microwave dinged again, drawing her attention.
"Did you need to get that?"
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "I just need you."
She snorted softly and removed her hand from his grip. "Is it true, then, that you actually hypnotized me?"
"Yes." It was close to the truth.
She frowned at him. "I didn't do anything strange, did I? I mean, it's awfully disconcerting to know I did stuff and have no memory of it."
"You were very professional." He recaptured her hand and kissed her palm. If only she would suggest oral sex again.
"I didn't freak out at the sight of blood?"
"No." He kissed the inside of her wrist. Type A Positive was pulsing through the vein. "You were very brave."
Her eyes lit up. "You know what this means? My career isn't over. This is great!" She flung her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Thank you, Roman."
His arms tightened around her. His heart expanded with a glimpse of hope. Then he recalled his suggestion to her at the dental clinic. Bloody hell! This was his doing. She was merely following orders. He wrenched himself out of her embrace.
She gasped, clearly surprised. Then her face seemed to crumble, but only for a second before it settled into a stony, shuttered look. She stepped back. Damn, she must think he had rejected her.
And she was trying hard to mask the pain. She really did care about him, and he was fumbling about like an idiot, frightening her during the day, and now hurting her feelings. He had so damned little experience with mortal females.
The microwave dinged once more. He strode toward the machine and yanked the plug from the socket. There, it would stop tempting him with warm blood. Unfortunately, Shanna presented a temptation much harder to resist. She was fresh.
"I'd better be going now." She retreated to the office door. "I… I'm happy you're alive, and that your tooth is fine. And I appreciate your protection and all the nice… gifts, which I really can't keep."
"Shanna."
She reached for the doorknob. "You're a busy man, so I'll stay out of your way. In fact, I'll be leaving—"
"Shanna, wait." He moved toward her. "I need to explain."
She refused to look at him. "There's no need."
"Yes, there is. Last night, while you were… hypnotized, I planted an idea in your mind. I shouldn't have done it, but I made the suggestion that you would throw your arms around me and give me a passionate kiss. And when you did, just now, I realized what I—"
"Wait a minute." She gave him an incredulous look. "You think I was programmed to kiss you?"
"Yes. It was wrong of me, but—"
"That's crazy! First of all, I am not under your control. Sheesh, I'm barely under my own."
"Perhaps, but—"
"And secondly, I bet I'm a lot harder to control than you think."
He kept his mouth shut. She was correct, but he didn't want to confirm it.
"And finally, that was not a passionate kiss. It was a dinky peck on the cheek. A man your age should know the difference."
He raised his brows. "Should I?" He could hardly explain he'd spent most of his mortal years in a monastery.
"Of course. There's a huge difference between a peck on the cheek and a passionate kiss."
"And you are angry with me for failing to discriminate between the two?"
"I'm not angry! Well, maybe a little." She glared at him. "You pulled away from me like I was some kind of leper."
He stepped toward her. "It won't happen again."
She snorted softly. "You can say that again."
He shrugged one shoulder. "I'm a scientist, Shanna. I can hardly make a comparative analysis of the different types of kisses if I cannot acquire the necessary data."
Her eyes narrowed. "I know what you're up to. You're trying to weasel a free sample out of me."
"You mean they're not normally free?" He smiled. "How much will a passionate kiss cost me?"
"I give them freely when I'm in the mood, which I am not." She glowered at him. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I feel like giving you a passionate kiss."
Ouch. He figured that was payback for hurting her feelings earlier. "I actually thought the little peck was very exciting."
"Oh, please. I'm talking real passion here. Hot, sweaty, jungle-fever type stuff. Believe me, if for some strange reason, hell freezes over, and I decide to give you a passionate kiss" — she leaned against the door and crossed her arms— "believe me, you would have no problem recognizing the difference."
"As a scientist, I can't deal with beliefs." He moved closer. "I need proof."
"You won't be getting it from me."
He stopped in front of her. "Maybe you can't deliver."
"Ha! Maybe you can't handle it."
He rested a palm against the door, close to her head. "Is that a challenge?"
"It's a concern. Given the questionable condition of your health, I'm not sure your heart could take it."
"I survived the last kiss."
"That was nothing! A real passionate kiss would have to be on the mouth."
"Are you sure? That definition seems a bit n
arrow." He planted a palm on the other side of her head, trapping her between his arms. Slowly, he looked her over. "I can think of some other areas I would love to kiss with passion."
Her face turned pink. "Well, I should be going now. I was worried about you being dead and all, but you certainly seem to be—"
"Up?" He leaned toward her. "I certainly am."
She turned, fumbling for the doorknob. "I'll let you finish dressing."
"I am sorry, Shanna. I didn't mean to frighten or hurt you."
She looked at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Oh, Roman, you silly man. I thought I had lost you."
Silly? In his total of five hundred and forty-four years, he'd never been called that. "I'll always be here."
She jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Surprised by the sudden force of her attack, Roman stumbled back a step. The room reeled for a few seconds. He widened his stance to keep from tipping over. Maybe it was hunger that was causing this dizziness. Maybe it was the shock of receiving affection. After all, he was a monster. When was the last time anyone had wanted to hug him?
He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her shampoo, her soap, her arteries pumping with blood. Hunger pounded inside him. He kissed the top of her head and then her smooth brow. Blood pulsed at her temples, drawing him there. He kissed her, breathing in the rich aroma. She tilted her face up to look at him, but afraid that his eyes would be glowing, he dove for her neck. He nibbled up to her ear, then nipped at the earlobe.
She moaned, sliding her hands into his hair. "I was afraid I'd never get to kiss you."
"I've wanted to since I first met you." He brushed his lips across her jaw, headed toward her mouth.
Their lips met briefly, then separated. Her breath was warm against his face. Her eyes were closed.
Good. He could stop worrying about his own eyes.
He brought his hands up to cradle her face. She looked so innocent and trusting. God's blood, she had no idea what he was capable of. He only hoped he was capable of resisting. Gently, he kissed her. She tightened her grip on his head, pulling him closer. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Her body shuddered. Her mouth opened, begging for him.
How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire las-1 Page 13
