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Raven paused to note the fact that William had not pressed her to take blood.
He’d mentioned it, but seemed to leave it as her choice. He didn’t seem bothered by her disability. It was almost as if it escaped his attention most of the time. Maybe that was why she was strangely drawn to him, even more so after he’d released her and promised to help Bruno and Lidia.
She limped to the cane and gripped it as if it were a sword, swearing she would accept herself as she was and that she would no longer entertain any thought of healing. The cane itself, new and black, was far more functional than her old ones, especially the one that was still (artfully) sticking out of the wall.
She decided she liked it there and would not remove it.
While she wasn’t sure how she felt about William buying her a new wardrobe, she was grateful for the nice clothes. Lucia must have sorted the items and sent only the larger sizes, because most of them fit, including two pairs of designer jeans.
On this day, she wore a navy dress with matching cardigan and simple flat navy shoes. Obediently, she was wearing a scarf and the bracelet William had given her. She wondered if it had some historical connection to the city of Florence or if it was something he’d acquired during his long and mysterious life.
He’d become prince in the fourteenth century, but had mentioned something about losing hope in 1274. Raven didn’t have time to Google the date to see what was significant about it, but she intended to do so later.
She retrieved her new reading glasses from atop her bedside table. Her old ones had been in her knapsack the night of Gina’s party. She hadn’t been able to find them. Ambrogio must have known her prescription because he’d replaced them—and with smart Prada frames.
She tucked her glasses into their case and made her way to the kitchen table, where she retrieved her new iPhone. Ambrogio had left it for her in its box, with a note that indicated the information stored on her old phone had been transferred to it, along with contact information for himself, Lucia, and Luka.
William’s name and contact information were noticeably absent. From this, she surmised that vampyres didn’t carry cell phones.
(They probably used carrier pigeons.)
Unfortunately for Raven, all the photographs she’d taken of her changed appearance hadn’t been transferred to her new phone. She no longer had visual proof of the healing of her leg, since her old phone was missing.
The absence of photographs seemed intentional. Certainly she hadn’t done it. She wondered what William’s reasons were.
Perhaps he was protecting her. Perhaps he was protecting himself. He certainly wasn’t demanding she maintain her changed appearance. Maybe he truly was attracted to her ordinary self.
As promised, Luka was waiting for her downstairs. He was a large man, standing well over six feet, six inches and probably weighing about three hundred pounds. He was also spare with his words.
When he saw her, he walked in front of her to the door and escorted her to the Mercedes, which was parked around the corner.
During the short drive to the gallery, Raven fingered the scarf around her neck. It was covering William’s mark now. He’d left behind a love bite.
She tried not to think about how pleasurable it had been to be in William’s arms and how sensual it had felt to have him kiss her neck.
She sighed.
He hadn’t mentioned anything about seeing her again when he dropped her off. In return, she hadn’t named a day for their film night.
Her apartment had certainly seemed spartan and lonely next to his opulent villa.
Truly her life had taken a surprising turn when it was clear that her next most likely date would be with a vampyre prince.
“Are you all right?”
Patrick greeted Raven with concern as soon as she entered the office space she shared with several other people. Other colleagues filtered in, chatting at one another’s desks before starting the workday.
She hobbled to her workspace, leaning on her cane. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re using your cane again.”
Raven shrugged. “I guess the new treatment I was trying failed.”
“You didn’t mention anything about a treatment. I thought your leg improved on its own when you disappeared.”
Raven lowered herself to her chair and placed her knapsack on the floor. “I don’t like talking about it.”
“Right.” Patrick didn’t sound convinced.
He approached her, his hand reaching for her wrist. “What’s this?”
Raven tried to pull her hand away, but he’d already seen the bracelet.
“It’s a gift.”
“From whom?”
“Just a friend,” she said airily. She began withdrawing items from her knapsack and placing them in a neat row on top of her desk.
“The same friend who gave you the other museum-quality piece you had on last week?” He let go of her wrist. “That’s gold, Raven. How much do you think it’s worth?”
“Listen, Patrick, I met someone who’s a bit of a collector. He’s just lending me things for fun. No big deal.”
“Okay, okay.” Patrick lifted his hands in surrender. “I’ll stop being nosy. But you have to realize how this looks. You disappear for a week and come back looking like a totally different person. A week later, you’re back to normal, but you’re wearing expensive gifts. And I’m not talking about things any asshole could buy from Tiffany. I’m talking about medieval and Renaissance pieces that are probably traceable to a collector.”
Raven wracked her brain for a plausible lie.
She offered him a conspiratorial smile. “Okay. The deal is that I met someone. It’s early yet so I don’t want to say too much. He has some money and likes to spend it.”
“So is this the friend who gave you the gold cross?”
She peered around the room, making sure no one could hear their conversation.
“Yes. We’re just getting to know one another.”
“I thought you were going out with Bruno.”
“He had to cancel.” She twisted her hands in her lap.
Patrick’s expression shifted. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” she said weakly.
“But you’ve met someone else and that’s good. What does he do?”
“Uh, he deals in—rare vintages.”
Patrick smiled. “Well, if he ever has any extra, send a bottle over to me. Gina loves that stuff and it isn’t exactly cheap.”
Raven nodded, trying very hard not to squirm.
Patrick moved to sit on the edge of her desk. “Unfortunately I have some bad news for you.”
“What?”
“The head of security stopped me on my way into work this morning.”
Raven clenched the top of her cane tightly. “Why?”
“He saw the tape of you handing me the flash drive in the archives.”
“Oh, no. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Luckily I had a similar flash drive in my pocket that was filled with files I’d been transferring for the project I’m working on. I showed it to him and said you’d been helping me.
“He checked with the archivist, who confirmed I had clearance to copy the files, and that was the end of it. The archivist was puzzled when your name came up, but I covered for you.”
“Thank you.” Raven leaned back in her chair. “I’m really sorry about that. I owe you one. Again.”
“It’s fine. Did you ever find out anything else from those files?”
“I haven’t had a chance to work on it. I know that Botticelli changed Mercury’s hair, along with some other changes that are well documented. But this weekend I was a little busy.”
Patrick smiled. “Busy with your vintage collector?”
She looked away. “Maybe.”
“Good. I’m glad you can get out and have some fun. I saved the good news for last. Professor Urbano was in here a few minutes ago. He wants you to report to the restoration lab. I’m supposed to notify the archivist that you’re no longer working for her.”
“Really?” Raven almost clapped her hands. “Can I go now?”
“He said to report in as soon as you arrived.”
“Thank you.” She flashed him a wide smile and he grinned, hopping off the desk.
She zipped her knapsack closed and carefully stood, leaning on her cane. She crossed over to the wardrobe that sat at the end of the room and withdrew her lab coat, folding it carefully over her arm.
Patrick followed.
“I ran into Ispettor Batelli after I left the security office,” he announced, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“What did he say?”
“He said that the Interpol agent assigned to work with him disappeared last week.”
