Page 53 of Death Deals

Did I think he would actually rip off my clothes and find a way to wrestle me into a dress?

Yes. Yes, I did.

Was I going to keep pushing my luck because part of me wanted to see it happen?

Yes. Yes, I was.

Standing outside the abandoned theater with more skin showing than I was comfortable with, I waited for Andre to climb out of his side of the car. He joined me in the sidewalk and wrapped the fox-fur shawl he’d bought me around my shoulders. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“You’re absolutely stunning,” he whispered in my ear. With my hair pinned up for the first time in… well,ever, his warm breath cascaded over me, making goosebumps rise.

I gave him a sideways glance, trying not to ogle over how incredibly sexy he looked in his fitted midnight blue suit. Damn, was it hard. Top it off with his long blond hair tied back at the neck, and ugh, it took everything in me not to give in. Maybe that had been his intention all along. I wouldn’t put it past him, but boy, was I weak.

His hand pressed on the small of my back and guided me toward the front doors. My exposed skin tingled under his palm. Out of all the outfit options Andre had chosen, this one was the least salacious, believe it or not. A silky dark green number with a high-thigh slit and loooooow scooped back. Low enough that if I moved a certain way again, my ass would be on full display. But this dress allowed me two freedoms—no bra, which all women preferred, let’s be honest, and it was long enough to conceal my boots, so that’s what ultimately sold me.

“I wish you’d worn the heels,” Andre murmured as we walked inside.

“Yeah, well, you can’t always get what you want,” I said.

“Oh really? Because people rarely ever tell me no.”

“You haven’t gotten used to it since we’ve been together?” I feigned surprise. “I haven’t been saying it loud enough then.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed.

“I told you. I’ll wear the dress, but make me wear heels and you’re getting one of them spiked through the heart,” I said. “Boots or staked.”

“Fine.” But his rigidness in his posture didn’t lessen.

Stepping further into the lobby, we spotted Hector and the other DeMontes and Perezes grouped together, all dressed to the nines. The room stilled as we approached, every eye landing on me.

I leaned a little closer to Andre. “Please tell me I won’t be the only person here with snackable blood,” I whispered to him. I was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second.

“Other humans and supernaturals should be here,” he said, matching my tone.

“As guests or food?”

He didn’t answer, and my stomach turned.

When the two families walked into the theater, Andre and I fell back behind them. “Don’t worry. As my claim, you’re protected.”

But I wasn’t really his claim, was I? How much longer until our ruse was up?

“And what if this entire thing is a trap by the Omaris?” We were all thinking it. I’m sure Hector and the other vamps were, too. “Then what?”

“You get yourself out of here. Whatever that means.”

That took me off-guard. I stopped, drawing him to a halt. “And what about you?”

“Cassandra knows our deal. She’ll hold up my side if things end for me tonight here.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He grabbed my arm, his grip tighter than expected, and pulled me in close. His stern gaze bore into me. “If anything happens, you get out.” It wasn’t up for debate. His tone made that clear. And I didn’t argue.

Hopefully, it would never come to that and I’d have to listen.

Letting me go, he cleared his throat and smoothed down the front of his jacket.

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