Page 18 of Taken By The Vampire King

The butler bowed slightly as I arrived next to him.

“Miss Boucher,” he murmured. “Welcome to Vitam Immortalem.”

“Thank you.” Between the name of his casino and the name of his house, Dupont certainly had an odd sense of humor.

I stepped inside the house and the butler closed the heat out, cocooning us in a space as quiet as the grave. For a moment I didn’t even breathe.

“Are you all right, my dear? You needn’t worry. The wards here are very old and will protect you.” The butler touched my arm, and normal household noises seemed to come rushing back as my mind unmuffled. “Would you like me to show you around a little?”

I narrowed my eyes slightly at the obvious eccentricities of the man. Wards? “Thank you, Mr.…?” I didn’t look at him as I spoke. There was too much to take in.

A wide staircase that started to my right curved up to the second floor, but more steps just beyond that led downward. A beautiful hardwood floor swept forward, appearing to cover acres of ground, before passing seamlessly through an archway supported by more beautiful Grecian-style columns. A grand piano sat further inside the room, as well as gleaming wood sideboards and a couple of oversized Asian vases that could have originated with the Ming Dynasty for all I knew.

The butler laughed and gestured to the lady with him. “I’m Baldwin, and this is Mrs. Ames.”

“Thank you, Mr. Baldwin.”

“I’ll just show you the basics. Chef is very excited you’re here and is preparing quite the feast. It’s not often we have guests.”

I nodded again, like I’d morphed into some sort of bobble-headed toy. There was no way I’d own a place like this and not have guests for most of the year. It was how I imagined every boutique hotel I couldn’t afford to visit—exquisite.

“If I owned this place, I might pay people to visit me just so I could show it off.” I didn’t mean to speak out loud, but Mr. Baldwin laughed.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t boast of the amenities?” He gestured toward the staircase that disappeared below the house. “In the basement, you’ll find a home cinema, a swimming pool, and the gym. But if you follow me up the staircase, I’ll show you to the east wing, where you have your own suite of rooms.”

I chuckled. “Is the west wing reserved for the president?”

Mr. Baldwin paused for a moment, his feet still on the stairs before he regained his forward momentum.

“The west wing is the master’s personal quarters. They’re strictly off limits to everybody, and the one place you really can’t go.” He turned to me at the top of the staircase, his jaw firm, his eyes serious. Then he smiled. “But the rest of the house is yours to explore and enjoy. This way, please.”

He led me between wide double doors into a tastefully decorated hallway, where everything was soft and a shade of cream, but I cast a glance over my shoulder at matching double doors that were firmly closed.

The area I wasn’t allowed. That was interesting… and possibly a reason I could use to terminate our contract early if it had something to do with whatever Dupont was obviously holding back from me about our deal. The loophole I was looking for. Maybe Dupont was involved in criminal activity and needed me with him so he’d look respectable? But surely not…

I chewed my lip. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a business was used as a front for something else, and if I could find out what, I could get away.

So I had to know.

I returned my attention to Mr. Baldwin as he opened a door and strode into a room that could have belonged to royalty. There was a large four-poster bed on a small raised platform, and I tore my gaze away before an unexpected visual of Nicolas Dupont, his body over mine and the sheets rumpled around us, solidified in my mind.

“There’s a small seating area.” Mr. Baldwin spoke unnecessarily as he pointed beyond the bed. “And through this door, your bathroom.”

I peered into the biggest bathroom I’d ever seen, and it was a beautiful mix between old-world style and shower controls that looked space-age. “Wow.”

Mr. Baldwin smiled, his eyes lighting with what looked like pride. “And the other door is your walk-in closet.” He led me into a room bigger than the square footage of The Pour House and I gasped.

There were already gowns hanging on some of the rails, and I reached out to touch one before retracting my hand.

“If there’s anything you don’t like, I can arrange to have it sent away, but the master felt sure these would be to your liking.”

I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from agreeing, holy crap, yes, I liked them very much. But I didn’t stop my head from nodding, and the movement gave me away.

Mr. Baldwin laughed again and clapped his hands. “Very good. But we’ll have to cut the tour short here or Chef will send out a search party. If you’d like to follow me to the dining room?” It wasn’t simply a polite request, so I fell in line behind him, my stomach churning with anxiety as we walked back across the room.

And I still couldn’t look at the bed.

Mr. Baldwin hurried back down the stairs, suddenly taking on a tour guide persona as he flung his arms out to the left and right. “This is the formal drawing room. The sitting room. Study. Library.”

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