Chloe shook her head. Anyone who thought vampire relationships were weird didn’t know enough rich humans. “Gavin has been busy tonight. I’ve barely had time to talk to him. Of course, it is Thursday.” Thursday nights were always insanely busy for them. Chloe had no idea why. Everyone was ready for the end of the week, but not quite as exhausted as on Friday, she guessed.
“Judging from the serious looks on both their gruff, manly faces, I’d say your man and his buddy Cormac have some serious business shit going on. I’ll bet you twenty that whatever is going on with him is related to work.”
Chloe took a long breath. “You’re probably right.”
“Of course I am. Now get me another martini, woman.”
Three nights later, Chloe still didn’t have any answers. Gavin had locked himself in his office most nights at the bar, he’d been affectionate but distant when they interacted, and Chloe had made excuses to stay at Ben and Tenzin’s loft every night since Wednesday.
Usually Gavin argued with her when she did that. He’d tell her his place was closer to work. He’d insist on taking a car late at night, then try to make her feel guilty about Abe driving all the way to SoHo. He’d offer to cook dinner for her—he was an excellent cook—then feed her so much she fell into a food coma at his house.
But in the four nights since he’d left her in the hot tub and come back a different man, he’d done none of those things. He was distracted. He was distant. And Chloe felt herself shrinking back.
This is how it starts.
This is where the end begins.
Her heart hurt, and Chloe was glad she’d held off having sex with him. That took a whole new level of trust for her since Tom, one she didn’t want to share with just anyone.
Gavin wasn’t just anyone.
Wrong. He might be an immortal, but he was also just another man. And Chloe had learned the hard way that most of them couldn’t be trusted.
On Thursday night, she’d brought a bag to work, thinking that Gavin might ask her to stay over. It had remained in her locker since then. On Sunday night, the bar closed at one in the morning. Chloe decided to take the bag back to SoHo. Ben and Tenzin were gone and the loft felt empty, but she’d left a new paperback in the bag and she really wanted to start it.
By the time she realized the book wasn’t in her bag, she was already on the train.
“Dammit.”
Did she need the book? She had others at the loft. She’d been really excited to start it though. The bar was closed on Monday, and she didn’t want to wait two days.
She let out a long breath and got off at the next stop. Maybe she could just hire a car to take her home. Maybe a ride share. She trudged back uptown and over to 9th Avenue, glad she at least had keys and didn’t have to call Gavin.
Since it was only one thirty, plenty of bars were still open on 9th, so she didn’t feel alone. A few of the bouncers waved at her and Chloe waved back. She opened the street door and walked up the stairs, instinctively listening for any movement in the pub. She heard nothing.
She flipped on the overhead lights but halted just inside the entrance.
Gavin was still there. But he wasn’t alone.
He was standing at the bar in his shirtsleeves, suit jacket draped over a barstool, sipping whiskey from his favorite glass.
Sitting across from him at the bar was a beautiful woman with a complexion so perfectly white Chloe knew she had to be a vampire. She was wearing a sleeveless black evening gown, and her hair fell in shiny auburn waves down her back.
The woman turned to look at her, a single eyebrow arched. “I thought we were going out for dinner, mon loup. Did you order delivery instead?”
“Chloe,” Gavin said, sounding indifferent, “can I help you?”
Her throat dried up. She could feel her pulse pounding through her body. Her voice sounded tiny when she spoke. “I left a book in my locker.”
No reaction. Nothing. He stared at her as if they barely knew each other. “Very well. The break room should be open.”
She shook her head. “Fine.” She started to back out of the room. “It’s fine. I don’t need it.”
Don’t need you.
Never you.
Never this.
She managed to back out the door and walk halfway down the stairs before the tears began to fall. Her heart felt like an icepick had been shoved through it. Cold rain hit her face the minute she walked out the door.
Chloe didn’t stop. She kept walking. All she cared about was getting away.
4
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Gavin couldn’t allow his emotions show on his face, not with Vivian around. He turned to her and shrugged. “She’s my manager. Must not have wanted to interrupt.”
Vivian smirked. “Seems like a skittish little thing.”
“Humans.” He sipped his whiskey and kept his voice even and calm. “Who knows what their motivations are.”
“I recall hearing that you’d become quite close with that human boy of Giovanni Vecchio’s. Would you call him a friend?”
“Ben?” Gavin walked around the bar, resisting the urge to follow Chloe out the door, and sat next to Vivian at the bar. “Ben Vecchio is an immortal in everything but biology. He thinks like us, acts like us—it’s hardly the same thing.” Find a way to turn it around to her. “What about you? How are your human employees these days? Have the economic problems in France affected your operation?”
“Not in the least. We’re quite insulated from all that. You know how I take care of my people.”
Vivian took care of her people in the same way feudal lords took care of their serfs. She assumed they adored her, patronized them, then used them however she liked. Gavin had to admit she paid better than a feudal lord though, which was why Vivian inspired loyalty among her staff even if she didn’t inspire love.
“So what’s going on?” Gavin said. “Why are you here?”
“Can’t I just come for a visit?”
“No.”
She pouted. “You’re very cross this evening.”
“I’m very cross every evening, Vivi. You’ve known me longer than anyone else. This shouldn’t be a surprise.”
What was Chloe doing? Was she taking the train? Hiring a car? Gavin heard the rain outside. Was it safe to be driving in this kind of rain?
“My new winemaker has had an intriguing idea about our brandy-distilling process, and I wanted to explore it,” Vivian said.
“Oh?”
Chloe had to get all the way to SoHo in this weather. Gavin wondered if he should call his driver. Abraham had her number.
“Yes, bourbon is quite trendy in Europe at the moment,” Vivian continued, “and Albert thinks importing used casks to age some of our spirits might be an interesting experiment.”
Would she even pick up if Abe called? Dammit, why was tomorrow Monday? He had no excuse to see her for over forty-eight hours.
And why the fuck was Vivian still talking?
“I’ve heard that Cormac O’Brien produces some of the best bourbon in the United States. I knew you were living here now. So I thought you could make the introduction.”
Gavin cut his eyes toward her. “Cormac’s bourbon casks are in high demand, Vivian. Your distiller is behind the curve. I don’t think there’s a whiskey barrel in Bourbon County that isn’t spoken for these days. Brewers are using them for beer, winemakers are buying them, distilleries all over the world have them on order.”
“Well, surely he could spare a few for an old friend—”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking we’re friends, Vivian.” Gavin turned to her.
“Who?” she asked. “You and me? Or you and O’Brien?”
“Either. Cormac allows me in this city because we have an arrangement that suits us both. As for you and me—”
“We’re more than friends.” Vivian sipped her drink. “I know.”
“You know nothing,” Gavin growled. “And you’re not being honest with me. And I’m lo
sing patience.”
She shrugged. “You’re always cross when I visit. You should have stayed in Ireland with Deirdre. She made you… Well, not happy, but less cross.”
The mention of Deirdre stung, just like Vivian had intended. “Deirdre and I weren’t meant to be. Drop it.”
“But I liked her.” Vivian leaned her chin on her perfectly manicured hand. “The two of you had very volatile chemistry. Was the sex good? I’m guessing it was.”
“Be quiet, Vivi.” Gavin set his glass down on the bar to keep from strangling her. “Deirdre lost her mate. You don’t get over that in a few years.”
She curled her lip. “And that is why our kind should never mate. Such a foolish practice.”
I’m sure it is for you. “Why are you here?”
“For bourbon casks.”
“You’re lying.” He stood. “And I’ve lost my patience. I have things to do that don’t involve you. Veronica will settle you in your rooms at the penthouse. Time for you to go.” He gestured to the door.
Vivian stood and picked up her fur wrap. “I thought we were going out to dinner.”
“Do whatever you want to do.” Gavin ushered her toward the door. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
Chloe stared at her phone, trying to process what she was supposed to do next.
Should she call someone? It was two thirty in the morning. She couldn’t call anyone she wanted to talk to. She nearly called Tenzin, knowing that the vampire didn’t sleep at all, but then she decided against it. Tenzin was on a job. And she was out of the country. It wasn’t her job to fix Chloe’s problems.
Sleep? She couldn’t sleep. She didn’t even want to change her clothes. She kept remembering the last time she’d worn the shirt she was wearing tonight. It was the week before, and Gavin had made a point to run his fingers across her shoulders and arms because he liked the velvet softness of the material so much. Or maybe he just liked touching her.
She thought he had liked touching her.
Tonight he hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t even looked at her. He’d looked through her.
Can I help you?
So cold. So distant.
It was past two in the morning and Chloe was soaked to the skin, but she liked the numbness. She had this horrible fear that the minute she got into the shower and warmed up, she would start hurting again. The pain in her chest had receded the farther she’d walked in the cold. She’d caught a cab near the playground where Ben practiced parkour and paid too much for the old man in the cab to just get her back to SoHo.
And now she was home, staring at her phone, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do.
The phone buzzed, and Gavin’s name and picture flashed on the screen.
Chloe dropped it, and the device fell between her feet and onto the hardwood floor of the loft. She heard something crack.
Shit.
The phone kept buzzing, but she didn’t touch it.
Water pooled on the ground, seeping from her soaked shoes. She stood, walked to the door, and left her boots on the rack Tenzin insisted on. Tenzin hated for anyone to wear shoes in the loft. Chloe took off her jacket and hung it on the hooks. It was dripping too.
The phone buzzed in the background.
Again. Someone was calling again.
Who was the vampire at the bar? A lover? A business associate?
If Gavin hadn’t been distant for days, Chloe wouldn’t have assumed the worst. She would have assumed there was some explanation. If Gavin hadn’t been cold, she would have assumed it was just another aspect of vampire life she was blissfully ignorant about.
Isn’t that part of the problem?
She walked downstairs with her phone still buzzing on the floor. She walked straight to the newly renovated bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower as she stripped off the rest of her damp clothes.
It was never going to work. Better that you face the truth now.
Who was the vampire?
It didn’t matter. Not really. The fact that Gavin couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her what was bothering him—which likely had something to do with the vampire at the bar—was the point.
Chloe wasn’t a part of his world. She’d been dipping her toes in the water, but she was never going to be brave enough to dive in.
She stepped under the hot spray and let the water beat against her skin, driving the numbness away as tears fell down her cheeks. They washed down her body with the grit and grime of the city, slipping between her toes before they vanished in the darkness.
Why was it so dark?
She’d forgotten to turn on the lights in the bathroom. Only the dim glow from the hallway illuminated the shower.
That was fine. She didn’t need the fluorescent white glare. She washed her hair, conditioned it, and rinsed it. She’d wrap it before she went to bed. She wasn’t going anywhere tomorrow. She didn’t plan on seeing anyone. Not Gavin. Not anyone.
The towels tucked into the cubbies were Tenzin’s favorites. Turkish peshtemal, thin cotton wraps that were surprisingly comfortable. She dried off her body and wrapped the towel around herself before she walked to her room.
She slipped on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater that fell nearly to her knees. It was one of Ben’s that she’d stolen.
She wished Ben was here. She wished Arthur was awake. Maybe she’d take Arthur up on his offer of a couch, at least for a few days.
Chloe wrapped a scarf around her hair and knotted the ends on top of her head. She sat on the edge of her bed and wondered again what she was supposed to do.
Call someone? Who would she call? What would even be the point?
Sleep?
Impossible.
There was a noise in the distance. A neighbor? That was strange. They never heard neighbors on the top floor.
No, not a neighbor.
Chloe walked out of her room and toward the stairs.
Someone was banging on the door. Not the front door—no one could get up the elevator without a special code—but the glass door to the roof garden.
“Chloe!”
Her eyes went wide.
“Chloe Reardon, I can see your phone on the ground. I know you’re here.”
Chloe moved from sad to angry in a blink. She marched up the stairs and across the living room. Gavin was standing at the french doors, as soaked as she’d been. His perfectly pressed shirt was sticking to his skin, and wet hair hung in his eyes.
“Go away.”
He pointed at her phone. “No. Fuck that. We need to talk and you’re not answering your phone.”
“I know! Get a clue.”
“Will you please let me in?”
“Go away.”
“I want to explain.”
“Explain what?” Chloe felt the heat of anger in her cheeks. “Did she send you for take-out once delivery walked out the door?”
He clenched his jaw. “That’s not what this is about. Will you please let me in?”
Chloe’s voice was shaking with anger. “I’m pretty sure there are servers at the Bat and Barrel who get paid extra for that. Talk to them, because I’m not on the menu.”
“Will you stop?” He banged on the glass. “Vivian is my sister, and she’s a wee radge! D’ye think I want her knowing how much I care about ye? D’ye think that would end well, Chloe?”
Her stomach dropped, and the flush of anger turned to embarrassment. “Your sister?”
“Yes! My mad-as-snakes older sibling. Will you please let me in?”
Chloe didn’t know what to say. Or do. She still didn’t want to talk to Gavin, but she didn’t have a good reason anymore. He’d called her multiple times. He was trying to explain. He’d flown through the rain to get there.
It was never going to work. Better to end things now.
Gavin leaned his head against the glass, water running down the window around him. “Chloe,” he said plaintively, “let me in. Please.”
She unlocked the french doors, her s
tomach tied in knots, and allowed him into the apartment.
He walked toward her before he paused. “Yer dry and I’m drookit and I want to hold ye, but I dinnae want to get ye wet and cold.”
She held up a hand. “It’s better… Just stay here. I’ll get you a towel.”
Chloe walked downstairs and retrieved one of the plush towels from the hall closet along with a Turkish towel from the bathroom. She walked back upstairs to find Gavin, barefoot and shirtless, still standing by the french doors.
Don’t look. You know he’s not for you.
Chloe handed him the towels, then she turned back to the living room couch and sat down, picking up her phone and setting it on the coffee table. She refused to look at Gavin while he undressed.
He is not for you.
“You cracked your screen.” Gavin rubbed a towel through his hair. He’d taken off his trousers and wrapped the peshtemal around his waist. “Was that tonight?”
She scooted down the couch and Gavin sat next to her, keeping some distance between them. “I dropped it when you called.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
She shook her head. “Not necessary.”
“It’s my own fault.”
“I drop my phone all the time, Gavin. I can get this one fixed.”
“It’s old. You should have a new one. Between work and rehearsal—”
“I’m not…” She took a deep breath. “I think it’s better if I don’t work at the pub anymore. I’ll come in long enough for you to find a replacement, but—”
“What?” His voice went cold. “Yer bum’s oot the windae.”
Chloe let out a breath, trying to keep herself from tearing up.
It was never going to work. He is not for you.
“Don’t make this impossible,” she whispered.
“I told ye, Vivian is my sister. Nothing is going on between us. She’s a complication. She shows up every few years and wreaks a bit of havoc before she flies off again. I’m trying to explain—”
“The problem is, I don’t want to know.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Don’t you see, Gavin? That’s always been the problem. That’s why we haven’t been able to move forward.”
The Devil and the Dancer Page 4
