I narrowed my eyes on him.What the—
Her lips pulled in an O shape. “Tell me what?”
“That he’s inviting you to dinner tonight.”
What the fucking hell? A vortex of anger swirled inside me. My knuckles cracked again. If anyone else disturbed or meddled with my privacy, they’d bitterly regret their choice, but Hugo couldn’t be taught to have any decency in terms of manners. This time, he took it a step too far.
“Really?” Her eyes shone over me.Wait.Did she want this? Not that it mattered.
My mouth set in a hard line. “Eight p.m. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t. Well, I better shower.” She ran up the stairs, raindrops following her passage.
A muscle in my jaw twitched, my eyes ridden with anger. Each of my muscles tightened, so much so that I could feel my scar reopening. I waited for her to leave before I whirled on Hugo.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I shouted.
“I saw you spying on the cute witch earlier. She seemed lonely, and I thought—”
“And that’s not your fucking place, Hugo.”
He swallowed, avoiding my hellish stare by glancing at the ground.
“Try something like that one more time and you’ll sorely regret it.”
“I’m sorry, Radcliff, okay? I acted impulsively.” A curse she seemed to put on everyone here. “I can tell her that—”
“No,” I said coldly and probably too eagerly, feeling my rage dissipate.
Hugo let out a warm grin despite himself. It wasn’t a date. It wouldn’t be one.
“And get me in touch with Patrick Delange,” I added.
I had something planned for him.
Eight p.m. at the manor looked like the witching hour.
My heels echoed on the marble floor. My pastel blue skater skirt moved smoothly with the cold air of the hallway. The naked skin of my collarbone that wasn’t hidden by my cotton pull shivered. The hair on my neck under my ponytail hissed.
Arriving at the dining area, I took in the big gothic chandeliers that hung over the long oval table serving different gastronomical dishes inside silver plates. It even had a chocolate fountain. A smile lit up my face. It was over-the-top, a buffet of luxury as if the host wanted to make sure his guest would remember this dinner.
Speaking of the host, I could only perceive Radcliff’s shadow from where he stood at the other end of the table. A part of his body was illuminated by the cracking fire of the chimney, matching the atmosphere of the candles shining in the darkness. It was intimate. If Radcliff wasn’t who he was, it could even be perceived as a romantic date. A date with Dracula, when you end up being the meal.
He stepped forward to join me, coming out of the shadows so I could observe him more closely. He pulled out my chair in silence, his suit clinging tight to strong biceps. It would be a lie to say my heart wasn’t thumping wildly in my chest. Radcliff always wore black, but tonight, he did it with a particular sophistication. His glossy raven hair was slicked back with hairspray. The refined cufflinks on his dress shirt glinted like small diamonds. His purple calla lily stare held the power to sweep the air from the room, forcing me to breathe his oxygen. Even the way he wore his scar that inked into his skin, like a thorny fortress closing in on a spell that had been made once upon a time, was magnetic.
“Did you do all of this?” My eyes lingered on everything but him, but my nostrils were drawn to him. His scent was a shelter to my soul, attracting every bone in me.
“Does it matter?” He sat in front of me in his king’s chair. In one smooth movement of his hand, classical music started to play in the background.
“Of course it does.” I sat at my place before unfolding my napkin and putting it over my legs. “This is nice. Almost like—”You like me.I bit the next words from my lips, feeling a flush creeping up my cheeks. “You’re just hard to read,” I added.
“So are you.” Radcliff roamed my face, our eyes colliding with the same questioning.
“You know, I never had a one-on-one dinner with a man other than my uncle.” I played with the silver cutlery, seeing my reflection in it. “It’s a bit impressive.” Especially since my first was with the scariest of all.
“Then, I suppose, I won’t need to worry about a boyfriend of yours.”
My heart leaped violently in my throat when a sardonic knife-sharp grin appeared on Radcliff’s lips—half-terrifying, half-threatening.
