Love Bitten (Vampire Blood Royals Book 1)

by Sabrina C Rose

  This was not the standard issue dining room of her childhood. Just a few years ago, her family functions always revolved around a six-person dining table that barely fit the room. This, by comparison, was the picture of elegance.

  To top it off, everyone was dressed to match the richly decorated and ornate walls. She, on the other hand, was dressed like a little grey mouse in a plain black dress. She didn’t belong here.

  As soon as she entered the room at Julius’s side, her mother and father turned toward her. Erica braced herself for the onslaught of judgmental stares they were sure to hurl her way.

  Her feet hesitated, but Julius’s reassuring hand remained steady at her back, encouraging her forward. Finding it calming, Erica stepped into the room with confidence.

  “Erica,” her mother called as soon as she spotted her. “I’m delighted you found the time to join us.” Her mother’s tone was polite but mocking.

  “You know I wouldn’t miss dad’s party for anything,” the saccharine smile Erica returned was just as fake as the hug her mother pulled her into.

  Erica could feel her mother’s cheeks move into a frown beside her face as she hissed, “What in God’s name are you wearing?”

  “It’s a dress.” Erica tried to pull away, but her mother’s hold tightened.

  “It’s off the rack.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “It’s a disgrace.”

  Heat rushed up Erica’s throat.

  “Don’t keep her all to yourself,” her father said beside them, probably sensing the tension. Finally, her mother let go but didn’t let her get too far. This time, her eyes were scathing.

  “If you’d come home, you wouldn’t have to dress in rags.”

  “This is not a rag, and I’m fine where I am.”

  “Erica, you weren’t raised in a sewer, keep your voice down.”

  A few heads turned in their direction. Noses turned upward as they pretended not to show interest in the family squabble.

  “Please be nice tonight. It’s your father’s birthday. Oh, and who’s this?” She turned to face Julius as if she hadn’t noticed the gorgeous man walk into the room on her arm.

  “Mother, this is Julius Craul. He’s my…” Erica trailed off, at a loss for words.

  “Investor,” he finished for her, taking her mother’s hand and giving it a shake.

  “Investor?” Her mother’s eyebrows raised, looking like she was debating whether to be impressed or suspicious.

  “A friend who happens to be an investor,” Erica corrected.

  “Well any friend of Erica’s is a friend to us. Welcome.”

  Julius returned her smile with one of his own.

  Her father perked up beside them, his interest peaked at the prospect of dollar signs. “What do you invest in?”

  “Trade routes, mostly,” Julius replied. “Although we are diversifying our ventures to entertainment and real estate.”

  “You’re not meddling with that bar she’s got herself tangled with, are you?” her father asked.

  “I am a sucker for prime business,” Julius replied with a charming laugh.

  “I hear that.” Her father joined in, but the laughter didn’t meet his eyes. He was not enthused.

  “You have a happy birthday, Mr. Wallace.”

  “Thank you, son. I hope you have a good time tonight.”

  Just as they were moving away, her mother muttered lowly. “Can you believe she brought someone else to your party? Does she know how that’s going to make her look?”

  Julius chuckled once they were out of earshot. “I’m guessing they liked Mr. Complicated?”

  “My parents are... set in their ways.”

  “Reminds me of home. Do you remember the game plan?”

  “Wait until people are drunk, then sell my work while they are impressionable. Try not to embarrass myself.”

  “Precisely,” Julius nodded, pointing at a couple across the room. “We’ll start with them. They look pretty far gone.”

  Erica clutched at Julius’s suit coat, preventing him from going over to Delores Scotts and her husband Reginald. “Let’s start someplace easier.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  “I forgot, you’re not from here. Those two are the most powerful people in the room. They’re practically royalty.”

  “Royals?”

  “No, not like real royalty. But they are probably just as powerful. We should warm up first before approaching them.”

  “Gotcha.” He nodded in understanding and motioned to another couple sipping cocktails close to the Scotts. “What about them? They’re not royalty, are they?”

  “No, they’re regular civilians. We can start with them.”

  The nerves in her gut rumbled as they walked over.

  “Ah, Erica,” Mrs. Novak greeted her.

  “Hello, Mrs. Novak,” Erica said politely. “How are you enjoying the party?”

  “As long as they keep the drinks flowing,” Mr. Novak cut in, “this will turn out to be spectacular.”

  Mrs. Novak shifted uncomfortably. “How are you? Your mother said you were on sabbatical?”

  If she called quitting her receptionist job at her father’s firm in favor of following her own path, then sure, sabbatical worked fine.

  “I wanted to strike out on my own,” she said instead.

  “An adventurer. Tell me, what have you pioneered?”

  “I wouldn’t call it pioneering,” Erica began, but Julius stepped in and gave her elbow a gentle squeeze.

  “Oh, I would,” Julius gave her a knowing smile before turning back to the Novaks. “The artist is always modest, aren’t they? If I were fielding so many offers, I’d boast a little harder.”

  “Offers?”

  “Erica, here, is an exceptional painter. It’s a wonder her father hasn’t put her pieces on display.” Julius looked around the room with a cavalier look that masked one of contempt. Immediately, the couple looked around with the same look.

  “I wonder why he hasn’t either,” Mrs. Novak said.

  Wow, he was good. The way the Novaks’ eyes glanced toward the walls in disapproval was shocking.

  “Wait, that’s right. He’s generously decided to donate them to the auction.” He must have seen Erica trying to hide a look of befuddlement, because he continued, “For the showcase.”

  “Showcase?” They asked nearly in unison.

  “The Friday after next, Erica is debuting her latest collection. It’s already being said she’s the modern Rembrandt.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Novak’s eyes bulged.

  “Yes,” Julius said. “It’s being touted as the event that cannot be missed.”

  “Erica, please send me the details. Your mother has my information.”

  “So, I can count on your attendance?” Erica asked, completely shocked that the Novaks seemed genuinely interested.

  “We wouldn’t miss it.” Mrs. Novak smiled, then turned to her husband. “You know, dear, we should invite the Alondales. They were talking about securing a few pieces for the new addition they’re putting on their house.”

  “That is right…”

  “If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to get a drink,” Julius said.

  “The tonic is exceptional,” Mr. Novak recommended as they parted.

  Walking away, Erica was floating on a cloud. Just like that, she’d secured two guests. Maybe even four. She bounced on her toes and readied to thank Julius, until Mrs. Novak opened her mouth.

  “That entire family is tragic. On sabbatical to paint.” She snorted quietly. “Martha will absolutely love that train wreck of a show. Auction, really?”

  “It’s probably because they can’t sell it.” The Novaks shared a hearty laugh at that.

  Erica’s back stiffened, her fingers curling into fists.

  “Just breathe. They’re not worth the fight. Don’t give them the time of day,” Julius said, guiding her away.

  “How do you do
this?” The elation she’d felt devolved into rage.

  “I’ve been practicing my whole life.” He gave her a wink. “Besides, they’re idiots. Art is auctioned all the time. I hope she doesn’t say that to Martha. She’ll make a fool out of herself.”

  Erica stifled a laugh.

  “Your work is exceptional. And because of it, there will be many who will root for your defeat. But you will rise anyway.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I know it. Now, who’s next?”

  “You’re ready for more? I’m still not over the last.”

  Julius nodded in understanding. “We should get that drink first, then.”

  “Erica,” her mother called from behind her before she had the chance to head to the bar.

  “Yes, mother?” Erica fought for every ounce of patience she could muster.

  “Come with me. You didn’t greet Delores on your way in.”

  Erica’s eyes flickered to the queen of the city. “Right now?”

  “Yes, dear. We can’t appear to be rude.”

  Erica took a patient breath, then turned to Julius.

  “Alone, dear.” Her mother eyed Julius with a hint of a frown.

  “I’ll go grab us that drink,” he said, unperturbed by her mother’s thorns.

  “That was rude,” Erica muttered to her mother as she scurried her away.

  “You’re involved, sweetheart. You can’t be introduced with him.”

  Thankfully, Julius was out of earshot. Before she had the chance to tell her mother her engagement had been broken off, she was already taking strides across the room. Her mother’s claws dug into her arm as she led her over to Delores Scotts, one of the richest socialites in the city. From the way her arm was nearly blue from lack of blood, Erica could tell her mother was eager for this particular guest tonight.

  “Delores, I’m glad to see you!” Her mother perked up when Delores, wearing a long purple velvet gown, pulled another glass of champagne from a tray and turned to her.

  “Rachel, the feeling’s mutual.” The women greeted each other with air kisses. Never once did they touch cheeks.

  “I see you’ve brought your daughter with you,” Erica’s mother said. “Annie, you’re practically a grownup now.”

  “Yes, she’s nearly eighteen,” Mrs. Scotts answered for her daughter.

  “Eighteen? You look so young. You clearly inherited your mother’s good genes.”

  Her mother was trying too hard, but Erica stood silently, counting the seconds until she was back at Julius’s side.

  “Rachel, you’re a doll,” Mrs. Scotts replied again. Wow, was the girl not allowed to talk?

  “Delores, how are your other children?”

  “They are very well. Annie, here, is currently fielding offers from the Berlin Philharmonic and the London Symphony Orchestra.”

  The woman had six kids, but Mrs. Scotts patted Annie like she was the Stanley Cup and they’d just won the championships.

  “Did you hear that, Erica? The London Symphony Orchestra. What a talent.”

  The way she clutched at the side of her dress and leaned into the pair, Erica could smell her mother’s jealousy from a mile away. She forced herself to smile and agree, fighting an eye roll at how disingenuous her mother was being. Annie could have been the first woman on Mars, and her mother couldn’t have cared less.

  Across the room, Julius seemed to be having all the fun, glad handing with the high rollers. He looked at ease. Comfortable. How he found comfort in the shark tank, she’d never understand.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Wallace.” Annie finally spoke up, her voice soft and meek. The waif seemed perpetually afraid. Not that anyone could blame her. Being in the shadow of Mrs. Scotts would have been difficult for anyone.

  “And what are you up to dear?” Mrs. Scotts turned her attention to Erica.

  “You know how children are.” Her mother spoke before she could, her voice light and cavalier. “Unfortunately, mine decided to start her rebellious phase late in life.”

  Erica ground her teeth so hard she was sure the enamel was going to turn to powder in her mouth.

  “Oh?” Delores asked curiously, but Erica could have sworn there was nothing but gleeful judgement in the way she tapped her glass of wine with one of her claws. “You’re a painter, are you not?”

  “She’s on a one-year sabbatical from her father’s firm,” her mother said.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Scott’s eyes brightened in curiosity. “My eldest took a gap year to travel Europe. What are you up to while you’re away?”

  “Painting,” Erica bit out, her facade of friendliness starting to crack.

  “So, you are a painter. Where are you exhibited? I’d love to see it.”

  “I’m not, currently.” Erica took a deep breath, trying to stave off the sense of worthlessness that usually accompanied having to admit her failures in front of this crowd. Just as she was getting ready to say that she only sold to private vendors, Delores’s face upturned in obvious disapproval.

  “I see. And your boyfriend, what does he do?” Delores’s gaze dashed across the room in search for Julius.

  “You mean, her fiancé.” A very familiar voice came up behind her, and two equally familiar and very much not supposed to be there arms enclosed her into a hug. Oh God, this could not be happening.

  “Max,” Erica’s voice cracked as she turned around. The ripe scent of alcohol on his breath permeated the air. “What are you doing here?”

  Alarmed, her gaze darted over to where Julius was shaking hands, but he was no longer where she’d last spotted him.

  “Your mother invited me, remember? I thought you weren’t coming.”

  “You can’t be here,” Erica said firmly.

  “Of course, he can, dear,” her mother interjected. “It’s well within his rights as your fiancé.”

  “Fiancé?” Julius’s deep voice rumbled behind her a moment later. When they turned, his eyes widened in shock. “Max?”

  “Mr. Craul, what are you doing here?”

  Somebody shoot me, please.

  “I’m Erica’s escort.”

  “Instead of her fiancé?” Mrs. Scotts clarified, glancing at her mother with a look that said ‘so, this is what you allow in your house.’ The room seemed to be shrinking around her.

  “Ex,” Erica corrected as quietly as she could, hoping this whole thing would fizzle into nothing.

  “We’re working it out,” Max said quickly as he swayed on his toes. His inebriation didn’t stop him from staring Julius down.

  Julius squared his shoulders, unwilling to back down. Mrs. Scotts, Erica, and her mother watched them like a game of tennis as the ball was volleyed from one side to the other. Erica stood frozen between them, unable to move. Or think. Or do much of anything other than wish for a bottomless pit to open under her shoes.

  “He’s your Mr. Complicated?” Julius turned to her. The betrayal that set into Julius’s voice made her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

  “Yes.”

  “He knows about us?” Max moved between them. “How do you know him so well?”

  “He’s an investor,” Erica said.

  “This, I know. But that doesn’t explain why he’s here with you.”

  “He’s also a patron of the arts.”

  Max snorted. “Is that what he told you? I’m sure the fact that you’re pretty makes him a patron of the arts.”

  “Do you think so little of Erica’s talent that you’d think anyone after her work must only be interested in her?” The offense in Julius’s tone was unmistakable.

  Max rolled his eyes. “I know what my fiancée’s good for.”

  Julius’s jaw clenched as he eyed her ex-fiancé. They stood the same height and were equally matched in build. Equally ready to pounce on each other.

  Erica’s mother cut in with a smile. “Perhaps, you’d like a drink.”

  The last thing Max needed was another drink. Mrs. Scotts excused herself and scurried over to h
er husband. There was no mistaking the gossip she was spreading as they both stared their way with raised brows and conspiratorial looks.

  “I think he’s had—”

  “Yes, I would. Come, Erica,” Max said.

  “Erica’s not a dog who barks on command,” Julius replied.

  “Erica can speak for herself.” Erica eyed both men. The small group turned toward her, and the room was suddenly out of air. “Julius is here to help me tonight. That’s all. So, no thank you to the drink.”

  Even though she desperately needed one. Or two.

  Max was not happy about that. “Fine. We’ll talk about this later.”

  No sooner had he left them, he was at the makeshift bar in the corner of the room, ordering a double shot. She wondered when they’d stop serving him. He was clearly intoxicated.

  “Young man, I need to speak with my daughter.” Her mother frowned at Julius, not hiding her disapproval. The pads of her fingertips dug into Erica’s arm as she led them away from the dissipating group.

  “That hurts,” Erica protested. Her mother continued to pull her to a lonely corner, away from prying ears.

  “Look at the trouble you’ve caused.”

  “What?”

  “You’re embarrassing us. If you didn’t come here with that… that man.”

  “Julius is helping me get my showcase set up.”

  “Showcase? Erica, when are you going to give up your little hobby already?”

  “What I do is much more than a hobby.”

  “I told your father not to let you wave around paint brushes and pretend that it’s worth something. It has gotten out of hand. We’ve indulged you too long.”

  “It’s talent,” Erica said through gritted teeth. “Isn’t that what you said about Annie? Her talent is for music, mine is for paint. Is it too hard for you to say that about me?”

  “There’s a difference between you and her, sweetheart. She’s wanted. You’re not.”

  The hurt that thrashed inside of her brought angry tears to her eyes.

  “Let’s all calm down.” Her father intervened when their quiet corner bubbled over. He tossed her a look of disapproval. “Erica, what are you doing? My two best ladies can’t be over here fighting.”

  “Why are you looking at me? She’s the one who started it.”