Page 45 of An Acquired Taste

“I’m just nervous, I think,” I say, brushing my hands down over my sides. I’ve gained some weight since I stopped working on my feet all the time and started eating so decadently here, and I’m suddenly self-conscious about the way the dress highlights the new fullness in my bust and hips.

“You? Nervous?” Ellen asks, sounding shocked.

I lift a brow at her. “Of course I am. This is my first ball as Sebastian’s valentine.”

Her face reddens. “Well, yes, that makes sense. It’s just…” She shrugs. “It’s hard to imagine you being nervous aboutanything. I—everyone on the staff—we’re always in awe of your confidence.”

I almost laugh before I realize she’s serious. Then I have to pause to think about how I’ve been acting since I arrived here. The way I’ve shown up to dinner dressed in luxurious dresses, how I’ve confronted Sebastian and made demands of him… I suppose I can see why she might think that. I’m not sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, I’m glad she doesn’t seem to see the insecurities that lie at the heart of me; on the other, it’s sad to realize how little she understands me.

As I make my way down the staircase to the foyer, I find that the rest of the staff has gathered to see us off. They all stare at me and, for the first time, I realize how I must look from their eyes. I notice how Trent blushes and stares with open admiration as he holds Barnabas by the collar to stop him from jumping on me. Our driver, Vincent, sweeps his hat off his head and hastily moves to grab my coat. Ellen is beaming. Even Bridget is outside of her beloved kitchen for once to see me off, and cranky old Tobias gives me a nod of what might be approval and cracks the tiniest smile.

Of course, the second I think too hard about being perceived, I forget how to walk in these heels. One of them catches on my dress and my balance wavers, and I think with horror that I’m about to tumble head over heels and completely ruin the staff’s image of me forever—

A cold hand seizes my elbow and pulls me upright. I turn, open-mouthed, to find Sebastian at my side.

The chill of his fingers seeps through the silky fabric of my dress. His dark eyes bore into mine. He is perfection in a charcoal suit. I’m close enough to marvel at his face all over again. He’s practically carved from marble, all devastating cheekbones and dark eyes I can drown in, so handsome it’s hard to imagine any future where he doesn’t make my heart race.

He studies me in return. I notice him taking in the silver jewelry set I chose to wear tonight. If he disapproves, he doesn’t say. He simply steadies me and offers his arm. I hesitate before I take it, and we descend the rest of the staircase together.

Sebastian keeps his expression stoic and his eyes ahead as I say goodbye to each member of the staff, and then he takes me out to the waiting car. Vincent opens the door, and Sebastian gestures for me to slide in first before joining me.

The moment the door is closed behind us, the silence is stifling. I fiddle with my silver bracelet. I wasn’t sure if it would be rude to wear to this event, but…

Well. Given how careful Sebastian has been lately, his insistence on using only the syringe to take my blood, I feel confident that he wouldn’t hurt me on purpose. Whoever Etta is, I don’t think he hurt her on purpose either. But I’m still too afraid to ask for the full story, and I don’t intend to take any chances.

Sebastian sits with his hands in his lap and looks out the window while I try not to stare at him. But it’s impossible to miss the way he clasps his hands tightly on his lap, the set of his shoulders and jaw. He looks gorgeous, and miserable.

Because of course he is. He hates these events. He must resent being forced to take me out and parade me around; I’m sure he’d rather keep me cooped up in the estate.He must feel obligated, or guilty. Just trying to fulfill our contract in the hopes he can have more of my blood, like I suspected already.

But I shake away those thoughts. I’m just getting in my own head again, and that’s the last thing I need before going into my first public event with Sebastian. I try to remember what Ellen said about me, calling meconfident, and summon up that version of myself to show to the public. Thevalentineversion of Amelia. I can wear her like a mask, just like the fake customer service smile I used in my last job.

These are vampires I’m dealing with, after all. If they smell blood, I’ll be nothing but prey to them.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Celeste ball isn’t what I expected.

Gone is the gold filigree and dripping decadence of the Valentine’s Day Ball. There are no blood cards or sparkling cocktails or lovers passionately entwined on the couches. Instead, this place has a sort of subdued old-money charm that is even more intimidating. Art is displayed around the room: huge paintings hung on the wall, marble sculptures on pedestals, and ancient-looking books displayed behind glass.

Sebastian and I enter to the soft sounds of a solitary harpist, not loud enough to overwhelm the quiet murmur of conversation. Which means it’s easy to notice that it stops as we enter the room.

I cling to Sebastian’s arm as he walks with his eyes straight ahead and his expression as impassionate as stone. My heart is pounding in my ears and only seems to beat faster when I think of how Sebastian and every other vampire in the room must be aware of it. I dig my fingers into his bicep without meaning to. He places one of his hands over mine, a feather-light graze of his fingertips along my knuckles. I’m surprised how much it eases my nerves. I think back on what Ellen said about how rarely he attends events and wonder, for the first time, if he might be nervous too.

Sebastian leads us to a circle of conversation at the foot of a marble statue. Some of the others nod at us—or rather, at Sebastian—politely, but otherwise there’s no attempt to bring us in. Sebastian doesn’t try to introduce me, either.

I can barely follow the flow of conversation, but I’m content to stand quietly and let my eyes roam over the room. I eye the harpist in the corner, and then the couples twirling around the dance floor. There are only a few of them, far less than at the busy Valentine’s Day ball. It makes me remember, with a jolt, that dance I shared with Alexander. I feel a guilty sort of nostalgia over it. How different would my life have been if I had known he offered to be my patron? I’ve never danced with Sebastian.

I wait for a lull in the conversation before tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

“Shall we dance?” I ask, smiling up at him.

He shifts, eyes sliding away from mine. “I’m not much of a dancer, I’m afraid.”

My smile fades, and I suppress a sigh. “Alright.”

Back to listening to a conversation I can barely understand. I can tell from Sebastian’s intent expression that he’s following it, but he doesn’t try to step in. He just stands here and listens in silence… which makes me wonder why he brought me here. He doesn’t want to dance, nor even to introduce me. Am I just here to look pretty on his arm?

Stick to the contract, I remind myself. I don’t know why I keep expecting anything more than that.

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