Today is the day that I plan to return to work, though.
“Ready?” Robert knocks on the door, and I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment before exhaling.
“Yeah.”
He walks in with the first aid kit. “Are you sure you want to see it?”
“I should. I don’t know how bad it is.”
“It’s healing quite nicely,” he assures me. Still looking in the mirror, I take off the gauze with bated breath, convinced Robert is simply saying that to make me feel better.
My eyes widen in shock.
Since Arabella tossed boiling hot coffee on my face, I expected to see burns in addition to the claw marks. There are none. The claw marks are there, but the open flesh has begun to stitch itself together.
“H—How?” I stammer, touching the wounds. “I felt them the other morning. They were still raw.”
Robert doesn’t answer me.
“My healing—It’s not this fast.” I lean closer to the mirror. “I was so sure this would get infected or something.”
“Maybe the antibiotics helped.” Robert guides me to a chair. “Anyway, I don’t think you need a heavy bandage today. That bruise is also looking better.”
“You’re right.” Confusion is running rampant within me. I’m in awe. “It’s been such a long time since I saw my skin heal so fast.”
“What do you mean?” Robert asks, surprised. “I thought you were born without any of the typical vampire abilities.”
I chuckle. “I had them until I was seven, I think. They suddenly started fading away, and within a week, I was more like a human than a vampire. Father was furious. He took me to a healer in our clan, but the man couldn’t figure out what was wrong. It was just one of those things, I guess.”
Robert cleans my wound. “Weird.”
A bewildered laugh slips from my lips. “That’s one way to put it.”
However, as Robert places the new gauze on my cheek, I discreetly study his expression. He doesn’t seem taken aback at all by my sudden bout of fast healing. Almost as if he expected it.
I shake off the fleeting thought because it’s quite ridiculous. I don’t know why I’m healing so quickly, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
When Robert is done, we go downstairs and see that Mrs. Mallory has set the table with a rather lavish breakfast. I agreed to come here for a couple of days, intending to keep a low profile. The kind of VIP treatment I’ve been on the receiving end of is startling. Mrs. Mallory expects me to have a say in everything that goes on in the house, and while it is sweet that she’s trying to make me feel included, her intentions are quite obvious. She thinks I’m here to stay, and no matter how many times I tell her I’m just a guest, she doesn’t seem to register my words.
We leave the house after breakfast. Robert drives me to the cafe. He works in the office across the road from it, so it makes sense, but I’m starting to feel as if I’m taking advantage of him. Not once in these past two days has he tried to make a pass at me. No inappropriate kisses or attempts to seduce me. His touches have been nothing short of professional. The only thing he seems to be interested in is taking care of me. He wants to feed me all the time and focus on my injuries.
I appreciate it, but it’s making me wonder if his initial attraction to me has faded.
As he pulls into the parking lot of his building, Robert says, “Let me know if you get tired and want a break. Don’t overdo anything.”
He takes my hand in his and presses his lips to the back of it, making me flush.
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure him, trying not to show the effect he has on me. “I’m just making coffee.”
However, his expression is uneasy, and I get the feeling that if he had his way, he’d lock me up in his house right now.
Jazz has already opened the cafe, and when she sees me enter, her jaw drops. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in today!”
She rushes at me and envelops me in a hug. “Are you okay, Charlotte? You were so vague on the phone, and somebody had broken the lock, and—”
She’s droning on while my heart begins to race. Even though everything is in order here at the cafe, I can’t help but recall the attack. I clutch Jazz for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to flee this place. I can still feel the burn of the hot coffee splashing on my face, my ears ringing with Arabella’s cruel laughter.
“Charlotte?” Jazz squeezes my hand, her eyes studying my face. “What’s wrong?”