Keeping her voice low, she said, “Can you get in touch with your art buyer, try to find out more about Hermes and the LaPorte?”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“I… I can’t tell you. Not until I know more.” She closed her eyes, the lines around her mouth deepening. “But Dorian? This has to stay quiet. Please don’t involve anyone other than the buyer and his connections. I can’t risk it.”
Trouble.
The alarm clanged in his head again. As much as he’d tried to deny it, her actions at the Salvatore and inside his own home last night—not to mention her evasiveness about the stolen artwork—convinced him she was into something nefarious. But Dorian couldn’t discern whether she’dcausedthe trouble, or she’d just been caught in the crossfire.
He still wasn’t convinced she didn’t have connections to Chernikov, either, or the other greater vampire families looking to make a power play, or any name on the increasingly long list of enemies eager to turn the Redthornes to ash.
But deep inside, he wanted to trust her. To help her, even if he was only helping her put the final stake through his heart.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
Again, she didn’t answer.
“You’re hiding something,” he said, frustration finally bubbling over. “You’ve been nothing but cagey since our first meeting, and now you’re standing onmyproperty, asking for favors to which you’re not entitled, nor have you earned. Idemandto know—”
“Don’t. Please.” With a gentle touch, she cupped his face, her eyes full of regret. “I realize how shady this sounds, but—”
“Darling, you havenobloody idea. I’ve met career politicians more honest and straightforward than you, evenbeforeI compelled them.”
A wounded look flickered through her gaze, and she removed her hand, but Dorian stood by his words. Shewasshady. Shady, frustrating, witty, intelligent, adventurous, beautiful,incrediblysexy, and quickly infiltrating his very bones.
“IknowI haven’t earned the right to ask for this,” she said, “but—”
“You don’t trust me. After everything we’ve already shared.”
“You shouldn’t trust me, either, Dorian Redthorne. We’re still strangers. And we’re talking about stolen artwork here. The kind of information that can lead to somereallyunsavory places.”
“Like my bed?” He’d meant it to sound angry, but it came out more like a taunt.
Charlotte couldn’t help her smile, and for a moment Dorian was so relieved to see the light return to her eyes, he almost stopped caring about the secrecy.
“I wouldn’t call your bed an unsavory place.” She took a step closer, sliding her hands over his shoulders, the sudden press of her body after so long without it quickly sending him into overdrive.
He slid his hands into her hair, drawing her even closer. “I have other unsavory beds, you know. A great many of them. Beds you haven’t yet had the pleasure of being bound to and thoroughly ravished upon.”
His cock twitched at the thought, and her eyes darkened with desire, blood racing hot through her veins.
But then she closed her eyes and pulled back, leaving him with nothing to embrace but the crisp autumn air and an armload of regrets.
“Goodbye, Dorian Redthorne,” she said softly. “Thank you, as always, for a lovely time.”
Dorian pressed a hand to his heart. “Ah, she bids me farewell, and yet my questions remain unanswered, the mystery of Charlotte D’Amico eternally unsolved.”
“I need more information,” she said, impatience snapping through her words. “Can you do me that favor? Talk to your guy?”
In response, Dorian grabbed her shoulders and hauled her close, claiming her in a kiss so fierce, so protective, so possessive, it left no doubt about his intentions. Then, finally breaking for air, he kissed a path to her ear and whispered, “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Charlotte gave him a grateful smile, which Dorian reluctantly returned. He’d given in to her demands today, but she was going to have to start talking, sooner rather than later. Because after this weekend, whatever trouble Charlotte was heading for, whatever “unsavory places” awaited her, Dorian was going right down with her.
Whether she liked it or not.
She slid into the limo, and Jameson closed the door behind her.
“I shall take good care of her, sir,” he said.
