Page 53 of Filthy Rich Vampires: For Eternity

“Come on.” I tugged Thea’s hand. “We’re close now.”

We turned the corner, passing a bistro closed for the season, and found a large building with columns that stretched to the sky from its marble steps.

“I think this is it,” I told her.

“Think?” she repeated. “I thought you were taking me to all of your old haunts.”

“I am,” I said, wrapping my arms around her to steal a kiss. “But a lot of my old haunts have burned down over the years.”

“Accidentally?” She arched an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” I said with a laugh. “Be glad we’re not reliant on candles anymore.”

“So, you’ve never been here?”

“Not in its current incarnation, but it used to be the home of one of my favorite courtesans.”

“You’re taking me to an old girlfriend’s house?” she asked.

“Never. She was my friend. Nothing more.” I leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You’re becoming quite jealous, My Queen.”

“I’m still processing that I’m sleeping in Ginerva’s old bed that you two...” She thrust her index finger between the circled fingers of the opposite hand.

I burst out laughing. “I assume that symbolizes intercourse.”

“Intercourse?” She shook her head. “Sometimes, I forget what an old man you are.”

My laughter fell into a smile. Tipping her chin up with my index finger, I looked into her eyes. “Do you mind it that much? My past?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Not really, but lately, I feel like your past is catching up with us both. It’s just a lot to process.”

“Still, I wish you were my only lover,” I told her truthfully.

“Nine hundred years with no nookie? I’m glad you didn’t wait around.”

But I needed her to know I wasn’t exaggerating. “Would it help to know that everything before I met you is a bit foggy?” I kissed her. “My life began the day we met.”

“No, it didn’t, but I don’t mind.” She grinned up at me. “Although maybe you could forget Ginerva.”

“Done.”

“So, why here?” she asked.

“Some of the most famous operas and symphonies in the world premiered here. I thought you might miss...”

Judging by the way she swallowed, I was right. She missed the cello. Music. Performing.

“It was built after you left?” she asked as we climbed the steps.

“Yes, and it’s burned down twice,” I told her as I paid for our admission, adding a hefty donation to the sum.

The bribe did the trick, and a few minutes later, we were being swept past the velvet ropes where the tour ended into the bowels of the theatre. Thanks to the donation, I hardly had to compel our eager tour guide to give us some privacy.

I studied Thea as she walked amongst the ropes and pulleys that lifted and lowered curtains and scenery. As she stepped onto the stage, calm overtook her body.

“I always feel at home here,” she told me when I joined her.

“You miss performing?”

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