He looked across at Belle, who swung her legs off the sofa, interest in her eyes. “Well, you were right,” he said grimly. “Roberto does know I’m back. He thinks I will come when he calls.”
“You have no choice. He is still the resident Curia member.” A small shrug. “Refuse, and you will give him the excuse he wants.”
“Attend, and I’ll be at his mercy.”
“Oui,mon amour. But he doesn’t know I’m still here.” She smiled with a hint of fangs. “Shall we take my car?”
Thirty-Eight
Roberto had sent Tobias.
He wasn’t alone; Anastasia had come too, and she was one of the strongest vampires in Boston, with a large territory north of the river. She wore an elegant evening dress that fell somewhere between Victorian frills and modern chic, and exuded hauteur as if the errand itself were beneath her.
She wasn’t wrong.
But Antoine couldn’t take his eyes off Tobias, and he knew they’d turned red, his anger barely restrained and slipping through his glamour.
Howdarehe walk into my home?
Tobias wore a blue suit over a white shirt with polished black loafers that suggested he shopped at the same stores Minh had. Or maybe it was Roberto he was sucking up to; business attire was more his style.
It was an ironic contrast to Antoine’s black T-shirt and jeans. Belle followed him in, her hoodie pulled up, her head lowered, the hint of an amused smile just visible.
“Welcome, Anastasia,” he said, deliberately excluding Tobias. “Uphold our traditions, and keep my domain tranquil.”
“Your trust is met with solemn commitment.” She returned the formal greeting in her gentle voice, furrowed her brow at Belle, then graced him with a smile.
Tobias said nothing, but Antoine didn’t care. He was going to kill him anyway.
“Roberto has you playing messenger?”
“So it would appear,” Anastasia replied, with a hint of coolness.
So. No allegiance there. That was a relief. He inclined his head slowly, showing his respect.
“May as well get on with it then.” He gestured to the door in invitation, and Anastasia turned with grace, leading them out. Tobias narrowed his eyes, following her in a way that allowed him to keep Antoine in sight, not exposing his back.
And so he should.
Belle kept her head down. The illusion was simple; if they assumed she was Cally and didn’t look too hard, they might not recognize her. All of the vampires had met Belle, but only once, and not when she was dressed in jeans and a hoodie with her face partly obscured. Even her demeanor was different. Disguise enough—unless any of them could detect power.
The two vampires hadn’t come in one car but brought their own, and a thrall held the door of a Bentley for Anastasia, while Tobias was already pulling off down the road. Antoine climbed into Belle’s SUV, and she drove after them. Anastasia’s car turned east on Route 9, heading back into Boston, while Belle turned west, toward Roberto’s house.
“Message delivered and she’s gone,” Antoine noted. “Keeping to the letter of his instruction, not the spirit of it.”
“He is a fool to use powerful vampires as errand boys,” Belle said dryly.
“Insecure in his new role.”
“Perhaps.”
The roads were quiet, reflecting the late hour, and Belle drove more sedately than usual. They turned onto I-95 with no sign of Tobias’s car, but Antoine knew he’d be there when they arrived.
“Thank you for coming.” He filled the silence, wondering how many times he had now thanked his sire.
“I’ve openly admitted my interest in you,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. “It would be a mistake to let you go alone, wouldn’t it?”
It didn’t need a reply. They both knew to do so would greatly increase the chance he would disappear again, on whatever excuse Roberto contrived. Maybe that was why Anastasia hadn’t hung around; for whatever reason, she didn’t want to be witness.
