Page 41 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

She froze, then swallowed. “I suppose it is. But then again, I’ve never had much choice in the matter. I’ve always had to cook or go hungry.”

He tapped his finger against the stem of his cocktail glass. “I see.”

When she didn’t look at him, he finished his salad.

Next came their main course. Vittorio moved around the table pouring everyone a glass of red wine before he deposited a beautifully arranged filet mignon a la Oscar at each place setting. Laurent took the first bite, gave the nod, and everyone dug in. There were murmurs of appreciation and compliments paid to the chef. Vittorio preened.

“I take it you are responsible for the asparagus, Miss Shaw?” Laurent said, attempting to draw her back into conversation. It was a redundant question since he’d seen her chopping them in the kitchen.

She pinned him with her gaze. “Are they to your liking, sire?”

The room went silent.

He ignored her biting tone and said, “Indeed. Fine work.”

It was clear she had no intention of backing down. He lifted a brow in challenge, then tucked into his main course.

Several bites in, Marco said, “I received an answer from the witches.”

He swallowed. “Go on.”

“They do not accept.”

His jaw tightened. “Not even for⁠—?”

“Not even for two million.”

Beside him, Lily stiffened.

“They’re foolish if they won’t accept such a sum.”

“They were insulted,” Marco clarified.

The voices around the table quieted. Zola said, “How could such a sum be insulting?”

“Why do you think?” Marco drawled, setting his sights upon Lily.

“They are uninterested in money, then?” Laurent asked, having a good idea of exactly what they did want. His amplifier. As if he’d ever hand her over. And yet, they were at a dead end. The trail had gone cold. He was hardly closer to saving his family from the disappearances plaguing them.

“That appears to be the case.” Marco shrugged.

He took a sip of wine and said, “Their loss.”

“Yes, sire,” Marco agreed.

They both felt the emptiness of his dismissal.

Their discussion turned to more neutral matters. Zola launched into an update about some of their rival houses. There had once been numerous vampire houses. Now, there were five in total: Houses Bardanes, Galca, Holland, Saifi, and Sarkas. Each one had an original country of origin. Yet, over the centuries, Italy had become the vampire capital of the world. House Sarkas had originated from Italy, giving it an automatic position of power and prestige.

Soon, dessert was brought forth. Bread pudding in a whisky cream sauce. Each small plate was beautifully constructed, with little mint and raspberry garnish. Vittorio took up his place at Laurent’s shoulder, waiting.

“Miss Shaw,” Laurent said, “I am told you have a sweet tooth. Perhaps you would care to do the honors?”

Around the table, eyes flashed with surprise. In all the centuries of his long life, he had never—not once—allowed another to take the first bite.

“Me?” Her brows pulled together.

He gave a small nod. Lily lifted her spoon, breaking into her dessert. She brought it to her lips. Every fiber in his body went still. He watched, mesmerized, as he took in the way her head tilted back, the way her eyes fell closed. A breathy sound escaped her. He found himself leaning toward her, wanting to hear more of those sounds.