Page 9 of Viktor

“Yes, I agree. So you understand why I question the authenticity. The paint must be removed and restored before it’s presentable for exhibition. I’ll have others in the community look at it as well.”

“I’d love to hear how you came by the painting,” Viktor began.

“I’m sorry. Unfortunately, that’s confidential.” Waverly declined to offer any other details.

“Tell me about this piece,” he said, appearing willing to leave the conversation without further question.

“This.” She smiled. “This is mine.”

“She’s beautiful,” Viktor noted, coming up behind Waverly. “Who is she?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, sensing the warmth of his body behind her. She hesitated to answer. What is this man doing to me?

“I didn’t expect to show this to anyone. I don’t usually—"

“She must mean a lot to you.”

“Well…” She turned to meet his gaze, her heart pounding, so close to the dangerous vampire who had saved her.

“You have her eyes,” he said, his voice low.

“She’s my grandmother. Mary. We were close.”

“You create and curate art. You’re very talented. I’m honored to have been able to meet you.”

“I…I’ve always loved art.” Warmth bloomed inside her chest as he smiled at her. Drawn to the powerful vampire, she struggled not to let the seeds of attraction take root. Instinct warned her to remember what he’d done and who he was. She lost time, gazing into his mesmerizing blue eyes.

Waverly dug her fingernails into her palms, allowing a sting of pain to snap her out of the trance. “I suppose what I’m saying is that art history is fascinating. It’s not just the artwork itself, but the artists, the painters, the masters. The actual creation process ranges from painstaking labor that takes years to complete to easy, simple creation. The result is often perfection.”

“Perfect, indeed,” Viktor replied, his eyes locked on hers.

A pregnant pause hung in the air, energy sizzling between them. Unable to take another second of the silence, Waverly broke the gaze, her focus returning to the painting.

“I was looking for a friend that night in Miami,” she blurted out, confessing out of the blue. “I swear I’ve never been to that club before. I don’t go to those sorts of places. I promise I won’t tell anyone what happened.”

“What exactly do you think happened?” Viktor inquired.

“That guy…he was going to…well, you know…he was attacking me and then you saved me.” Her voice fell to a whisper. Did that satisfy for a thank you? She couldn’t be sure it would. She had to be certain. Her hands trembled as she continued. “So I just wanted to make sure you know how grateful I am. Thank you for what you did. So, um, you can go now. I mean, you don’t have to do all this. The painting, the tour.”

A broad smile broke across Viktor’s face. “Ah, pet. That’s very sweet, but I don’t plan on going anywhere. You see, I visited your friend’s apartment, and I have many, many questions. Perhaps even more now.”

“Pet?” Waverly gave an audible sigh and rolled her eyes. “Okay, look. I’m not sure how you found me. I don’t even think I want to know. But it doesn’t matter. So, let me try this one more time. Thank you for saving me from that monster, but I’m fine now. It won’t happen again. Like I said, I don’t go to those kinds of places.”

“And yet you did,” Viktor challenged.

“But I won’t again.” Her watch buzzed, interrupting her. She glanced at its face. “I’m sorry but I have to get back to the auction. Like I said, thank you very much. If you’re ever in San Diego again, well, the museum is always open. I suggest you take a whole day, so you have time to see all the exhibits. It’s a beautiful city.”

Viktor casually walked to the door, reached for the handle and held it open for her. “You know. I think you’re right. I’m going to spend a few days in La Jolla. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss Miami.”

Waverly smiled at Brently Kirkpatrick, attempting to appear interested. The trust fund baby joked about his missing balls and bragged about the new yacht he’d bought, inviting her to a private sunset cruise on the bay. She nodded and took another sip of her champagne. Her mind wandered as he spoke. She’d tried her best to say thank you and goodbye to the stubborn vampire. But instead of leaving, he’d acted as if she’d asked him to stay for vacation.

What could he possibly want from her? She’d promised not to speak about what she saw that night. While it was true that Teagan was involved with vampires, he didn’t know her. Or did he?

From across the room, Waverly glared at Viktor as he flirted with a well-to-do socialite. Casually laughing, the debonair vampire oozed sexuality. Both men and women appeared drawn to him, captivated as he made his way through the crowd, introducing himself.

Quick-witted and cultured, he blended into the sea of one percenters, discussing his latest win at the stock market and his European escapades. He spoke with a slight accent that she couldn’t quite place. She heard hints of Italian and French phrases from him as he worked the room.

As her boss took the microphone, she thanked God the auction was almost over, hoping that as soon as it ended, she could prepare to go home. The wealthy benefactors would enjoy a night of dancing and art that would extend into the wee hours. She’d already contacted her list of regular donors, and she wasn’t required by her boss to stay any longer than needed.