AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Desmond gently pushed me aside, then leaned against the counter with casual grace. He smiled at the lady in a way that would probably feed her fantasies for months to come. She blushed and he hadn’t even spoken yet.
“Beverley,” he crooned, glancing at her nametag. “Can I call you that?”
“Yes. ” Her gaze darted over to me. I didn’t have people skills. Not the same way the men in my life seemed to. Women generally didn’t like me, and I was fine with that under normal circumstances.
“Beverley, my friend and I are trying to visit someone. We understand the need for residents here to maintain their privacy. ” He winked at her conspiratorially, and she fell for it hook, line and sinker. “But if you could point us in the direction of residential access, we’ll be on our way. ”
“Take the elevator to twenty-six. Take the third door to the left. There’s a second elevator there, and it goes directly to the resident floor of your choice. They’re labeled. ” Desmond might as well have enthralled her, the answer was so precise.
How was his question different than mine? Sure, it was more eloquently phrased, and he was flirting instead of yelling at her, but still.
In the elevator I pouted a little, but he beamed at me with I-told-you-so variety pride.
“What are we doing here, anyway?” he asked.
“We’re here to see a woman about a vampire. ”
“And she lives at the Plaza?”
“I know. ” I shifted my gaze to him. “How can you trust someone who lives in a hotel, right?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sig’s daytime servant, Ingrid, was no fan of mine.
There should be some sort of support group for people who disliked me. Ingrid wouldn’t be leading the meetings, but she’d still sit in a metal folding chair with her Styrofoam coffee cup and say, “Hello, my name is Ingrid, and I hate Secret. ”
Nevertheless, when I arrived at the front door of her personal apartment with a werewolf in tow, she didn’t think twice about letting me in.
For a seven-hundred-year-old milkmaid from Germany, Ingrid had held up well. She was human, but the bond she shared with Sig meant she’d inherited his longevity. As long as Sig lived on, so would Ingrid. She had traded a life in service to him for immortality, and it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
She had been in her late teens when she’d met Sig, and retained the youthful roundness of her face and figure. Her cheeks had a ruddy, flushed complexion from hours spent in the sun with no fear of cancer, and her blonde hair looked especially flaxen this season. I hated her for her daytime privilege.
“Secret,” she acknowledged, stepping away from the front door. “Won’t you please come in. ”
The gesture, while unnecessary, was flattering. Full vampires couldn’t enter a human residence without invitation. Since I was not a full-blooded vampire, the rule didn’t seem to apply to me, but I appreciated that she offered it.
“Wolf,” she said in the tone of someone speaking to a pet rather than a person.
“Desmond,” he corrected, and extended a hand to her. They’d met once, but the circumstances hadn’t been ideal for introductions.
Ingrid looked at him like he’d performed a particularly humorous trick, and then rewarded him by shaking his hand. “Ingrid. ”
“Now that we’re done playing name that paranormal creature, can we get on with it? I don’t think you want us here all night. ” And I wondered why Ingrid disliked me.
“Surely not. ” Her smile remained bemused as she continued to look Desmond over. “But Sig did tell me to expect you, and therefore I will do my utmost to make you feel welcome. ”
We followed her through the small foyer and into a sunken living room with huge picture windows overlooking Central Park. She had no balcony, but the view was worth the sacrifice. The city gleamed like an unbroken promise, beautiful and safe.
For the first time I noticed how casual Ingrid appea
red tonight. Her hair was tied back in a messy fishtail plait, and she wore a pair of skinny black jeans and a long black tank top. If Audrey Hepburn had a perpetually cranky German cousin, Ingrid would be it.
She indicated the sectional sofa, which wrapped around three sides of the sunk-in area. On the fourth side was a large flat-screen television and a fancy stereo which was playing Mozart’s “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” through hidden speakers all over the apartment. That Ingrid predated the original performance of the symphony was not lost on me.
“Sig told you we were coming?” I sat on the sofa, and Desmond found a comfortable place next to me. He was perfectly at ease in the room, having been raised in the opulence of life with the Rain family. I, on the other hand, would never be comfortable surrounded by such obvious displays of wealth. You couldn’t grow up in a town like Elmwood and make a smooth adjustment to things like driving BMWs or having an original Rothko hanging in the dining room.
“He knew you’d sort things out eventually. ” She sat opposite us and smiled. “What have you brought me?”
