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Heavens, it didn’t matter. Matéo stood in the doorway of the conference room like a god who had just descended from Mount Olympus. His smile was so much more dashing in daylight, eyes far more intense than they had been at the diner. The arctic blue of his left eye seemed paler somehow, chillier. Though a smile sat on his lips, I got the impression he was closed off.
“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted. He nodded to Henry. “And gentleman.”
Henry marched up to Matéo and stuck out his hand. “Henry Bradley.”
“Matéo Renou.”
“Do you like pie, Matéo?”
Matéo settled his amused gaze on me as he replied, “Sure do, Henry.”
I blushed. That little jab wasn’t lost on me.
Henry motioned toward the table. “Sit down. Try a slice.”
Mortified was hardly fitting enough to use for this situation, but it was certainly one of the things I felt. Not only was Charlotte entertained by Henry’s hospitality, but she also seemed to encourage it. The pie needed tasting and judging, and Matéo was the only one who was outside of the inn entirely. He wasn’t invested in anyone here.
As far as she knew.
It seemed the polite thing to do to step aside and give Henry the spotlight. After all, being a supportive aunt meant putting myself second sometimes. Even if it did make me feel a little strange.
Matéo chewed thoughtfully, ultimately humming with approval. “The apples are sweet, slightly tart. A good balance,” he complimented. “And the crust is flaky. The edges aren’t burnt. You did a good job baking it. The syrup is a bit thick, but overall, it’s delicious, Henry.”
Henry nodded while jotting down a few notes in the tiny black notebook he had taken to carrying with him whenever he was visiting us. “Balance… flaky… syrup too thick…”
“That’s not to say someone else wouldn’t enjoy the syrup that way.”
“I’ll remember that next time you visit,” Henry stated professionally as he slid from the chair. “It was nice to meet you, Matéo.”
“And you, Henry. Thank you for the pie.”
Charlotte cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest while staring daggers into Matéo. The black wolf was far from intimidated. In fact, he appeared tickled by Charlotte’s overprotective behavior.
“Let us know if you need anything,” Charlotte said flatly. She looked at me and said, “Literallyanything.”
“Thank you, Lottie,” I said as cheerfully as possible. I shooed her out the door as I added, “Please, don’t worry about us.”
When the door was shut, I focused on the wood for a long time, acutely aware of how loud my heart was beating in my ears. Could he hear it? Could he sense my anxiety?
And everything else I was feeling?
Pages shuffled behind me. Matéo was already exploring the folders that Charlotte had brought for us. Turning around revealed his strained concentration, his curious posture, and the taut fabric of his t-shirt struggling to contain his shoulder muscles.
Why does he have to be so hot?I gulped while stepping toward the table, playing with my necklace.I’m a professional. I can handle tension.
“This is a lot of information,” Matéo commented. “You’ve been to a few places, I see.”
I nodded, trying to focus on the pictures he was shuffling around instead of how his fingers danced over the glossy images. “That was from the crypt that Sasha and Donovan discovered.”
“A crypt?”
“It belongs to an old vampire clan, Castillo.”’
His features darkened. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Does it?” I stepped closer. “Do you have any idea who they could be? Domingo kept interrupting that investigation. It was like he didn’t want us to discover it at all.”
My frown deepened.
