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“Of course, it isn’t.” Darren snapped the book shut and moved over to my side. He knelt and took the shoes from me. Buckling them with nimble fingers, he had both shoes on my feet before I could blink. “Cursed or not, you do have a penchant for opening your mouth when you should be silent.”
Standing, I fluffed my skirt. “I do not. Okay, maybe a little bit, but they antagonize me. I’m not just going to sit back and take it.”
“In this case, you should not only take it, but bend over and ask them to fuck you please.”
I gaped at Darren’s retreating back, not only at the use of language, something I’d never heard from him, but the instructions. He might be able to just deal with it, but I was not in the habit of laying back and thinking of England. I’d sooner take a stake to bed than let those self-imposing leeches walk all over me.
Quickly following Darren into the hallway and down the stairs, I waited at the front door. He had his own outfit, well, if you call a traditional butler suit with white gloves an outfit. It wasn’t much different than I saw him wear on a regular basis. Maybe the suit was a bit more expensive, and his hair was more carefully slicked back, but really, he looked pretty much the same.
“We wait here until the guests arrive,” Darren instructed, pulling a pocket watch, yes, a goddamn pocket watch, from his vest pocket. “Which should be any moment now. Then the masters will come in, and we will take any coats they have.”
“Coats?” I rocked on my heels, trying to break them in faster. I was going to have blisters on my feet by the end of the night, I was sure. “Do vampires even feel the cold?”
Not missing a beat, Darren told me, “Appearances... and stop fidgeting.” He grabbed my arm, and I stopped. Releasing me, he laced his hands behind his back and continued. “The guests will then be ushered to the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks.”
“Wait, are we talking alcohol or...?”
“Whatever the guests want,” Darren snapped, clearly getting impatient with my interruptions. “Then there is dinner, and hopefully, if everything goes off without a hitch,” he gave me a pointed look, “they will leave, and we can all go back to our regular lives.”
Straightening my back, I nodded. “Sounds good.”
We waited in the foyer for a good twenty minutes without anyone coming. I started to get antsy, tugging on my skirt and then wiggling my rib cage from side to side.
“Stop it,” Darren hissed, his eyes jerking to me. “Be still.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re not bound and fluffed up like an overdressed peacock.” I reached beneath my skirt and pulled at the frilly underwear which had ridden up my butt crack.
“Piper,” Wynn’s voice called out, making me freeze.
Of course, he’d come right when I was picking a wedgie. Jerking my hand out of my skirt and cupping my hands in front of me, I turned to smile at him. Wynn descended from the stairs cloaked in a dark plume shirt and black dress slacks, looking as delicious as ever. His ebony hair was still damp from his shower and curled at his neckline.
“Wy- I mean, Master Durand,” I caught myself and curtsied. “You are looking handsome tonight.”
“Thank you. I have to say you are looking ravishing tonight yourself.” His eyes trailed over my outfit, and a flash of hunger crossed over his face. I’d have to thank Rayne later. I guess all men, vampire or not, had a maid kink.
“Master Durand.” Darren stepped forward, a stern frown on his face. “The guests have not arrived—” The doorbell rang out through the house, cutting Darren off. “Never mind. It seems they are here. Excuse me.”
Darren took the few steps to the door and pulled it open without looking at who it was behind it. Not waiting to greet them, he opened the door completely and waited beside it for the guests to come in. “Welcome, we shall start with drinks in the drawing room. Please hand your coats to Piper, she will be happy to take care of them for you.”
Wynn gave me a small, encouraging smile before heading into the drawing room. My head moved from him to the door where one of the most beautiful men I’d ever laid eyes on entered. I mean, really, he could give Wynn and the others a run for their money.
Light brown hair curled on the top of his head, the sides buzzed but with enough stubble to melt into the scruff on his chin and cheeks. Pulling his jacket off, he tossed it in my direction. I caught it even though I was taking in the pin striped suit that clung to his swimmer body form. His milk chocolate eyes skimmed over me briefly before turning away.
Not bothered by his dismissal, I took the jacket and laid it over my arm.
“Valentine Moretti,” Antoine exclaimed, moving down the stairs in a slow and graceful stride. “How wonderful to see you again.”
“What’s it been? Fifty years?” Valentine grinned, but the smile was not a pleasant one. It made my stomach twist into knots for some reason I couldn’t describe.
“Forty-six, but who’s counting?” Antoine gave Valentine a tight smile, obviously no happier for him to be here than Valentine. Just as I thought they might go into the drawing room, a breathtaking woman entered.
Long black hair fell down her back in waves of curls, just stopping at the swell of her butt. She flung her fur coat in my direction without so much as a how do you do, revealing a silver, tight-fitted silk gown that looked more like a nightgown than something you’d wear to a party. Her heels were spiked and at least four inches tall. I’d have fallen on my face wearing them.
“I can’t believe you made me take a cab,” the woman griped, holding the matching silver clutch in her hand. “I could smell the driver all the way in the back seat. I’d have eaten him, but I fear he’d rub his disgusting scent all over me.”
“Theresa.” Antoine nodded to the woman, not once looking in my direction. “Looking as lovely as ever.”
Theresa flipped her hair, even though it did not need flipping, and gave him a sultry smile. “And you’re just as stiff as ever. Where’s your brother? Where’s my Wynn?”
