“When did he pass?”
“Five years ago. I still think about him every day, though.” She tipped back the last of her drink, then sighed. As screwed up as it was, this part was all true too. Messy and complicated, colored with more than a few shades of gray, but real. “I guess that’s why I still love looking at people’s collections. Sometimes I run across a piece he loved, or one he taught me about, and I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking for a connection. A sign that he’s still with me.”
“Adrift,” Dorian said softly.
Charley’s eyes widened.
“Last weekend,” he continued. “At the auction. It was the painting in the study, where—”
“I remember. I’m just surprisedyoudo.”
“How could I not? It was in that room that…” Dorian shifted in the chair, trying unsuccessfully to hide the sudden bulge in his pants. “Suffice it to say, the painting made quite a lasting impression.”
“No kidding. Thanks to you, I’ll never be able to look at it again without…”
…recalling the time a stranger cornered you in the study at the Salvatore penthouse and forced you to come for him, again… and again… and again…
The memory of Dorian’s words echoed, and Charley closed her eyes, slipping back under the spell of those stolen moments…
“Fathers,” Dorian said suddenly, scattering her thoughts. “Whether we spent our lives loving them or loathing them, even in death, they never quite leave us.”
“No, I guess not.” She opened her eyes, a knot of emotion tightening her throat.
Her feelings about her dad were so thorny, and it’d been a long time since she’d really talked about him with anyone.
Yes, her father was responsible for recognizing and nurturing her love of art—a love that had quickly become a deep, inextricable part of her being. In that way, he’d always be with her.
But he was also responsible for turning her into a criminal with no foreseeable way out. In his image, she’d become a phantom, a woman who’d seduced a stranger to distract him from her crimes, and now found herself hopelessly tangled in an impossible, no-win situation that could only end in ruin.
Charley’sandDorian’s.
Here’s your opening, girl. Tell Dorian the truth. Tell him everything, then throw yourself at his feet and beg for his forgiveness.
Maybe therewasa way to stop this before it went any further. A way to stop Rudy altogether—not just from robbing Dorian, but from all the other heists to come.
If anyone could help her figure things out, it was Dorian Redthorne, immortal vampire king.
“What is it, love?” he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek again, his brow tight with worry.
“Dorian, there’s something… I need to…” She sucked in a deep breath, then opened her mouth again, ready to confess every last sin. But when the words finally broke free, all that came out was, “I need to get back to Sasha.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Will you do me a favor?” Charlotte asked.
They were standing in the circular drive, Jameson holding the limo door for her, ready to ferry her back to the city. Dorian had wanted to accompany them, but of course Charlotte insisted on going alone. He was lucky he’d convinced her to accept Jameson’s services at all.
His woman, he was quickly learning, was not big on compromise.
Under normal circumstances, neither was Dorian. But nothing about his interactions with Charlotte D’Amico hadeverbeen normal, and now, after the way they’d shared their bodies last night—not to mention their secrets this afternoon—Dorian’s world was completely upside-down.
All he wanted to do was drag her back into the manor, tie her down, and push her right back to the edge—a dark, dangerous place they both craved. He’d heard it in her soft moans of pleasure, felt it in the way her body had responded to his punishing touch.
Yet here she was, leaving him again.
Asking forfavors, no less.
“What is it?” he asked, doing his damnedest to keep the frustration from his tone.
