Page 17 of Taken By The Vampire King

And when I closed my eyes, the looming figure I saw was most definitely Nicolas Dupont.

The black limo sat purring in my driveway. I’d been ignoring it for fifteen minutes already, unable to make myself leave my home. I wanted to hang onto the furniture, the drapes, the doorframes so no one could remove me.

But in reality, I looked in a mirror spotty with dust and age blemishes, patted my hair, smoothed the lip gloss I was unaccustomed to wearing from the edges of my lips, and straightened my spine.

I could do this. I could walk across my cracked and overgrown driveway and be driven somewhere I didn’t know with a stranger I’d only met once.

Twice, my traitorous mind supplied, but at least one of those meetings didn’t include a handshake or names, so it didn’t count.

A driver, complete with cap, sunglasses and leather driving gloves, climbed out of the front and walked around to open the back door for me.

I glanced in the limo before I slid onto the seat. “No Mr. Dupont?”

My stomach did that weird thing between relief and disappointment. Nausea, that was probably better known as.

“Mr. Dupont sends his regrets, but he’s been delayed at La Petite Mort.”

My throat dried at the mention of Dupont’s casino, but I swallowed and sat inside the car.

“He said for you to make yourself comfortable and help yourself to a drink.” The driver waved at a mini-bar.

“Thank you—” I paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Jenkins, Miss Boucher.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” I said, and one corner of his mouth tipped up.

“My pleasure.”

As the car pulled away from my house, I stared at my hands. I didn’t need to look at my home. It wouldn’t be the last time I saw it. It wasn’t like I needed to commit it to memory or anything.

My fingers twisted together and my skin paled. “Where exactly are we going?” My voice was steady and calm, but even in his sunglasses, I got the sense Jenkins was watching me in the rearview mirror as he answered.

“Mr. Dupont lives a little farther out on the south side of the city.”

I nodded like I’d known that much while I tried to imagine what his house might look like.

Traffic was light for our journey, and we looped around the city rather than driving through, giving me a view of spread-out homes, mailboxes with no house in sight along the rutted tire tracks that led away between fields, and barely moving bayous with tree trunks rooted in them.

As those views gave way to something greener, and swamp gave way to grass, live oak trees took over, the Spanish moss growing with far more decorum and grace than it ever grew by my property, hanging in delicate fronds.

The car slowed and Mr. Jenkins made a wide turn onto a sweeping driveway that led to a large white home. I sat forward, almost on the edge of my seat as I watched it grow bigger as we approached.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

“Isn’t it?” Mr. Jenkins half-turned toward me. “It’s been in Mr. Dupont’s family for centuries.”

It was larger than my house, with a sweeping balcony across the front, columns that soared higher than I could dream of, and a large dome on top. Its majesty was everything my house deserved, and my gut twisted again as I thought of Dad’s actions that had resulted in the current state of our home.

The outside of Dupont’s house gleamed as if freshly painted or cleaned, and the driveway looked as if it didn’t dare crack or sink.

God alone knew what I was going to have to do for one month to have a hope of reinstating my house to even half of this glory.

When the car stopped at the bottom of the wide steps, I sat for a moment, not even moving to unbuckle my seatbelt. I’d expected a grand lifestyle from Dupont, but I glanced at my jeans and well-worn shirt and cringed a little. This wasn’t my world. Not even close.

I battled every day for what I had, I clawed my way to it, and I wasn’t ashamed of it, but I knew where I belonged, and it wasn’t with Nicolas Dupont, and it wasn’t here.

Mr. Jenkins opened the door, and before I’d even climbed out, a butler stood at the top of the stairs, his hands at his sides as he waited for me to join him. Alongside him stood an older lady in a navy-blue skirt and jacket over a white blouse.

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