Excusing myself, I slip into my bedroom and change rather quickly. Thankfully, my personal shopper does her job well and has an assortment of cocktail dresses for me to wear. I step into a little black sequins number with a scoop neck and no back. Moving from side to side in front of the mirror, I admire the way I look and start pulling my hair up and putting it back down, depending on which way I’m standing, to decide what style I like best. I finally decide on a half up, half down look, glancing over my shoulder to make sure enough of my back is showing. This, by far, is one of my favorite dresses. I make a mental note to ask my gal to buy more from this designer.
Tonight, we’ll pretend we’re all friends, having dinner and drinks, and sharing a casual conversation. The only business discussions taking place will be the subtle hints I drop about what my father’s looking for. Mostly cash, but he’s not above taking cars, boats and lakefront properties.
As I come out of my room, my doorman is opening the door. The first of the investors are here. Everything about them, I have memorized. From their faces, names, wives, and husbands, children, and their businesses. I know who's banging their secretary, whose wife has a hot cabana boy, and whose side piece is pregnant. Pregnancy is always a bigger scandal than an affair. I march forward with authority. My hand’s extended and instantly in Ginger Madhu’s hand, shaking it firmly. Ginger’s husband, Frederic, kisses me on both cheeks. I can’t stand him. He uses Ginger for her money, and because of this, I often refer to him as Fred, which he absolutely hates. He likes to pretend he’s French when he’s really from some small town in Oklahoma. He forgets I know everything.
“Ginger, I’m so happy you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed the chance to put my bid in.” She turns as the elevator dings. Out step Richard and Tara Bolton, Nevada’s self-proclaimed royal family. Tara rushes toward Ginger and embraces her. If Tara had a knife, she’d likely start stabbing Ginger while telling her how much she loves her.
“Richard, so good of you to make it.” He kisses me on my cheek and whispers into my ear, telling me how sexy I am. Pig. “Tara!” I step out of Richard’s grasp and hold my arms out for his wife to come toward me. She smiles, but it’s forced, and the hug she gives is cold. There’s definitely something wrong, but now isn’t the time to figure it out. Maybe she’s pissed I was able to score the new Louis bag the second it hit the shelf.
“I just love… well, I thought you’d change the décor since the last time we were here,” Tara says as she all but pushes me aside to enter my home. I do everything I can to keep from rolling my eyes. Richard snickers beside me, tapping my ass as he walks by me. Like I said, he’s a pig, and I hate having him in my home. Thankfully, with a house full of people and a staff, he won’t be able to try anything.
“I’ll add it to my list of things to accomplish before my next dinner party.” As much as I don’t want to change the décor in my house to appease her, I will. The last thing I need or want is for her to talk about me among our mutual friends. If words get back to my father, he’ll be rather upset with me for not satisfying his clients.
The elevator dings before I have a chance to make my way into the living room where the two couples are. Heath and Elaine McLeod walk through my door and embrace me in a tight hug. They’re Lana’s parents and here for moral support. Every time they hear about one of these dinners, they invite themselves. I don’t mind because I appreciate having someone here I can talk to without having to be fake or discuss business.
“Thank you for coming.” Elaine’s the closest person I have to a mother with my own gallivanting across the country, mending a broken heart for the past ten, or is it fifteen, years. After eight, I stopped counting, stopped caring. My father may be the worst, but he didn’t abandon me.
“We wouldn’t miss it. Besides, your view is amazing, and I wanted to capture a few images tonight.” Elaine pats the camera bag she’s carrying. Heath’s a doctor, while Elaine’s a photographer. Her prints garner four to five digits, and if you’re thinking about booking her for a wedding, think again. She’s booked solid for a year.
The last to arrive are Shan Caldwell and his date, who’s wearing some string dress and platform stripper shoes. This time, my eyes roll when he stops and sticks his tongue down her throat, and his hand slides up her leg, exposing her ass. I’ve known Shan for most of my life, and at one point our parents wanted us to get married. I probably would’ve taken the plunge, but Shan’s wandering eye and inability to keep his hands to himself are a huge turnoff to me. Call me old-fashioned, but when I marry, it’ll be for love and not business.
“Fiona,” Shan drags my name out as his kiss lingers all too close to my lips.
“Shan. I see you brought the best of Vegas with you. Let me guess, you woke up with her in your bed?” I keep my eyes on the woman, who is chomping on her gum like a cow chews its cud. He turns and extends his hand to her.
“This is Tiffany Desiree.”
“And what corner do you work on?” I’m not ashamed of my question. I’m totally judging her by the way she’s dressed and how handsy he is with her. Clearly, she doesn’t understand my insulting question by the look on her face. “Right, welcome.” I motion for Shan and his friend to go into the living room. The only other people who could possibly stop by are Lana or my father. Usually, my father won’t attend these functions because he looks culpable in the solicitation of gifts.
More people arrive. They’re either associates of my father or friends of his new wife. Either way, it doesn’t bother me. The larger the audience, the better the outcome. There is always someone who wants to outdo their competition.
The drinks are flowing. My champagne fountain seems to be a hit, especially with Tiffany, and the staff has put out our dinner. I stand back and watch the investors meander in and out of my library where I conveniently have the Majesty on display, along with the potential earnings if the remodel is done right. The Majesty is one of the rare properties in Vegas where expansion is possible.
“What’s your father looking for?” Shan asks as he comes to stand next to me on the balcony.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leans his arms on the railing and nods. “I was at the car show the other day, came across the Lambo Huracan. I put a down payment on it. I was thinking of ordering two.”
I nod. “Probably a good idea.”
Shan brings his drink to his lips and swallows the rest of his Scotch. He leaves me there, knowing the price my father is willing to accept to streamline the permitting process. What would normally take years, he will make happen in days. Suddenly, when one of these applications crosses his desk, he’s not very busy and can make things happen rather quickly.
I step back into my house and watch the people I’ve invited into my home. They mingle among themselves, talking business and setting plans to get together for their imaginary golf games. As I look over the crowd, there’s a set of blue eyes, which do not belong here.
Walking through the crowd takes me longer than I intend with people stopping and talking to me.
“How’d you get in?” I ask, meeting his gaze. I’m taken aback by his strong jawline, which is covered in the perfect amount of stubble. I find this feature extremely attractive. My fingers itch to run through it, to feel his coarse hair tickle my skin. The rest of him looks perfect as if he were cut out of Vogue and set in the middle of my room to entice me with his broad shoulders and his visible physique. However, it’s his already sexed, roughed up looking hair that garners my attention or is it his mesmerizing blue eyes? Maybe a combination of both? Doesn’t matter because I didn’t invite him here.
Even though he has a glass of bourbon in his hand, he doesn’t take a drink. Most often, men will do this when approached by women. It’s their way of mustering up the courage to speak to the opposite sex. Yet, he holds it between his thumb and index finger, letting the amber liquid slosh back and forth. Odd, but his choice to ruin a perfectly fine l
iquor.
“The door was open?”
“Not likely,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. I wrack my brain, trying to recall his name, but to no avail. This is unlike me. I pride myself on remembering everything about everyone. “Try again?”
This time, he brings the glass to his lips, and that’s when I see it, the Mark of the Fates. I step back, wondering why I didn’t notice this when we met. Instantly, I reach for my cross, only to find it’s not hanging around my neck. He notices but doesn’t budge, but his eyes meet mine. I don’t know what compulsion feels like, and I’m not willing to find out. “Excuse me.”
I leave him standing there and rush to my room. All I want is my necklace. Once it’s securely around my neck, I turn to find the vampire standing in my doorway. I swallow hard and try to stand tall, but my legs wobble in my stilettos. “Please leave.”
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Then why are you here?” I can feel my pulse throbbing, and I imagine he can see it pushing through my skin, beckoning him to come sink his teeth into my flesh.
“To talk business.”
“We don’t do business with your kind.”
The vampire steps into my room and closes the door behind him. I could scream, but he’d likely kill me, turn into a bat and fly away with my body. My luck, he’d leave me in the desert for the wild animals to eat me, once he’s drained me of my blood. “Please don’t.” I hold my hands up and back away slowly, but he steps back and leans against the door.
“I’m asking for five minutes. I’m not here to hurt you, suck your blood or kill anyone at your party. I’m here to talk business. I’m a legitimate businessman looking to break into the Vegas market.”
I square my shoulders and muster up all the courage I have. “My father doesn’t do business with vampires. I suggest you take your money to a state that favors your kind. Nevada isn’t it. Now get out of my house.” I point and stomp my foot for emphasis.
5
Roman
Her lips purse as she examines me, and I can’t tell if she’s scared or if she’s pissed off.
“My father doesn’t do business with vampires. I suggest you take your money to a state that favors your kind. Nevada isn’t it. Now get out of my house.” My kind. I refrain from rolling my eyes as if we haven’t walked the earth for hundreds of years in secret.
Raising my hands in mock surrender, I smile and relax against the door of her bedroom. “Listen, I have more money than all of those plastic faced, cheating, liars combined. Give me a chance to talk about my plans, and let’s just pretend for a moment that we’re two people, which we are, just talking business. You don’t even know me.” Assaying her face, I can see that she is at least mildly intrigued by me. After all, I’m not showing fangs, I look like any other normal guy for the most part, and I’m certainly not threatening.
Although her shoulders relax slightly, and she stands a bit taller, she’s firm. “You need to leave. There’s no way my father is going to give you what you’re looking for, so you’re wasting your time.”
Part of her wants me to stay; I can sense it. Her fingertips fondle the cross that she wears for protection, and while it doesn’t have any real power, and couldn’t stop me from physically doing anything, I respect it. I know I need a new plan, and I decide to retreat and regroup before there’s any kind of scene. I’m unclear how her guests feel about doing business with a vampire, but I suspect they all have similar views.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Fiona. I’m not what you think, and I wish you’d give me the chance to show you who I really am.”
“I know who you really are…” she trails off.
“Roman. My name is Roman,” I reply softly.
“Roman,” she repeats under her breath.
While her intrigue is evident, it’s also clear that it’s time to go. “I hope to cross paths with you again, Fiona,” I say, swiftly leaving the room and making my way out of her penthouse. It appears that no one noticed her absence, or noticed me at all, which is how I prefer it to be. Dejected, but determined, I head to Clutch to eat and see if I can come up with a new plan.
Clutch is an elite club, catering to vampires specifically. While there are plenty of humans about, and most of the bartenders are mortal, the clientele consists of vampires and humans. It is a place where we can be ourselves. Humans are only permitted if they agree to the terms of Clutch policies, which mostly involves volunteering themselves physically for feeding us. There’s usually a degree of sexual pleasure involved as well, but that’s not why I’m going. I’m hungry, and I need to think.
As a regular there, I don’t need to show my mark to get in. In fact, the doorman Corban and I have known each other for many years, and he waves me right in.
“Sir,” he says as I approach.
“Stop calling me that. It’s ridiculous.” I shake my head at his formality.
Grinning, he shows his fangs are out. “Just doing my job, mate.” He lets out a chuckle. His pale skin, the same color as mine, shines with a bit of a red glow from the neon light above us.
“Yeah, yeah. Is Selene here?”
“She is indeed. She’s always here, mate.” Corban’s slight Australian accent has always been something I was jealous of. It was easy to get the ladies as a vampire, but a vampire with an accent, now that was something special. I’d never had an accent except for the brief time I spent in England. I somehow picked up a bit of a British one at the time, and still somewhat enjoyed using some of their euphemisms.
“Thanks, brother. I’ll catch up with you later. I need to eat.”
“There are plenty of delicious morsels to feast on tonight my friend. Mmhmm.” He licks his lips. He feeds far more than he needs to, mostly because it’s offered to him on a silver platter by merely working here.
With a grin and a nod, I pass by, entering the club. I think it’s much like one would expect a vampire club to look. There’s a fair amount of red velvet and black curtains everywhere, and while much of it resembles a typical nightclub, there’s an innate sensual vibe in the room. The room has a husky sounding trance mix, not fast enough to dance to, but too rhythmic to be considered mellow. Heightened senses give me the ability to smell and hear the humans, tucked away into dark corners, letting their bodies be used as fuel for us. It’s as if it were always meant to be, humans and vampires coexisting. It is a place where I feel comfortable, among my people, and those who choose to accept and enjoy us.
While it may seem vile or taboo to some, the natural connection between a vampire and a human in these circumstances is quite beautiful. The human receives pleasure. So enjoyable, they tend to come back for more time and again. The joy can be kind of a pure necessity, but it can also be extremely sexual in nature, as tends to be the case most often. Yes, it’s a bite, and yes, the human’s blood is consumed, but the intimacy involved can be quite erotic. In fact, making love, or simply fucking when you are feeding, can be amazing for everyone involved. All of these are allowed at the club so long as permission is granted, which is the point of places like this. The vampire, of course, receives food, replenishment. We don’t have to feed often, but we do have to feed. The connection is magical under the right circumstances, and in my lifetime I’ve come upon a human every now and again who I want to pleasure and to feed on more often than just what’s necessary. It’s been a long time since then though.
I know I need to find sustenance for myself tonight, but I need to find Selene first and discuss my options for what I should do next. She is not only the owner of Clutch, but has been a friend, business partner, and a confidante since I became a vampire. We traveled the world together for more time than I can even recall, and we also chose to settle ourselves in Las Vegas at the same time as well.
It doesn’t take me long to find her, behind the bar, talking to some human men who are fawning over her. Vampires are beautiful, and she’s no exception. She notices me immediately, and as I approach, she dismisses the disapp
ointed gentlemen hoping to be hers for the evening.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight? You must be hungry.” She smiles, adding a wink for good measure. “I can find one for you unless you have your eyes set on something in particular?” She waves a perfectly manicured hand at the room.
“I do need something, but first, I need to talk. I have a situation.”
She leans over the bar, getting comfortable, ready to listen. “That sounds dramatic, Roman. Let’s hear it.”
“You know that I’m trying to buy that old casino, right?”
She nods. “Yes, you never did tell me why you want that old dump.”
“That’s not important. What’s important is that the gaming commission won’t do business with vampires. And, I can’t get my gaming license without it, which means I can’t buy the casino without it.”
Rolling her eyes, she groans. “These humans. I swear to you, Roman. I miss the days where we took what we wanted. I’d rather hide in the shadows and have what I want than pander to these mere mortals. Who do they think they are?”
“If we were hiding in the shadows still, would you have this club? Would you be feeding on one… or will it be all three of those men tonight?” I raise an eyebrow at her. She’s well known for her appetite - in blood, and in men.
“Hmph. Always the voice of reason, Roman. So what do you intend to do about this situation of yours? You’re obviously not planning to give up, I see. What do you have in mind? I can smell the gears turning.”
“Well, there’s this woman…”
Roman (The Clutch Series Book 1) Page 3
