Page 43 of Fated Mates and How to Seduce Them
When he came out, feeling much cleaner and ready for people, André had already gotten clothes ready for him to borrow, stacked up on the vanity. Ian put on jeans, rolled up once at the cuff to accommodate his shorter legs, and the light pink T-shirt made of a luxurious fabric. Also butter soft. He had to wonder what it was made of. By the time Ian was doneshaving, thanks to the new razor André had handed him, he’d expected André to be out of the shower.
Maybe he was one of those people who took forever to shower. With a mental shrug, Ian let him be. He could find his way down to the kitchen well enough, and Benedict and Felix were already waiting on him.
He came down the stairs, following his ears to figure out where people were. Ian hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the house last night, but now? Walking through a mansion was a new experience, to say the least. Everything was white walls and polished marble flooring, and it felt ostentatious. This was clearly a home, though. He spied André’s backpack sitting in an antique chair near the door, saw someone had piled up mail on a foyer table in the hallway, with someone else’s designer purse and keys on the same table. Little piles of clutter amidst million-dollar pieces of art were a strange juxtaposition to his eyes. He heard Benedict’s voice coming from farther down. It didn’t take long for Ian to find everyone, as the dining room table was right at the base of the stairs.
He ground to a halt. In the hectic situation of last night, he’d failed to remember two key things.
One: André still lived with his parents.
Two: Said parents were currently in country.
Ian looked at the two adults seated at the table, both of whom were looking right back at him, and swallowed hard. Oh shit. He was not at all prepared to meet the parents. Especially not after his first night having sex with their son! Fucking hell, he expected Felix to set him up like this just because it would amuse him to do so, but he didn’t think Benedict was that mean.
Wait, why were they even eating breakfast? Vampires didn’t need to eat. No, wait, Auntie Im had only mentioned food for Ian, and there was only one plate waiting. Had they arranged this sit-down just to meet him? Surely not.
Benedict got up from the table to snag him by the arm, pulling him in closer. “Come on, Ian, don’t be surprised. Mom, Dad, this is André’s Ian.”
What a way to introduce him. Ian gave them a shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Mrs. Castor, at least, seemed delighted. She got up immediately and rounded the table, practically beaming. She was beautiful—evidently André’s features came from her—and she did not look old enough to have two grown sons. She almost looked Ian’s age, or at least not more than thirty. “Hello, Ian. I’m glad to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much. We were late getting in. Otherwise, I would have said hello last night. Come, come, sit and have breakfast with us. Where’s André?”
“Still in the shower.”
“That boy, I swear if there’s water, it takes an apocalyptic event to get him out of it. Well, hunger or you will bring him down eventually. Come, sit with me. I have so much to ask you.”
She seemed nice? Ian got a good first impression at least. Felix and André had both assured him the parents wouldn’t have an issue with him dating André, and that seemed to be the case, as neither father nor mother threw either money or threats at his head. This might be okay. A shock to his heart, and Ian had lost five years off his life, but it might turn out okay.
Ian did as directed, coming to sit next to her. Even at this hour of the morning, she wore a sharp suit, her hair and makeup done to perfection. For that matter, the father seated at the head of the table looked just as pressed and ready to go, although he wasn’t wearing his suit coat yet. They gave the impression of people who had full schedules even on the weekend but were making time to check in with their children.
Mr. Castor looked Ian over with interest as he sat, which wasn’t unnerving at all. For all that Benedict looked much like his father, with the meticulously groomed dark hair and blackeyes and dusky skin, he could see some resemblance to André, too. The sharp jaw line and full lips, for one. Now, he seemed more of an age to have children, maybe late thirties? Even then, a trifle young to have two grown children. “How did things go last night? André said you were stranded.” Scratch that, the voice was similar, too—a warm tenor that was easy on the ears.
Right, he’d been the one to organize and dispatch the vans. “Yes, very much so. The bus had a mechanical failure, and our driver couldn’t reach anyone to help. Thank you for sending the vans, Mr. Castor. There were over a dozen people who’d had no way of reaching home except to walk. It was raining heavily, so it wouldn’t have been pleasant.”
He seemed pleased, face lifting up in a smile. “Good, I’m glad the effort was well spent.”
“I put a bee in the Transportation Administrator’s ear last night about the situation,” Mrs. Castor added with a frown. “I know they overwork the buses without doing the appropriate amount of maintenance or replacements. I don’t want people to be stranded in the middle of nowhere again.”
Of course, because bending the ear of a high-ranking administrator was just natural. He knew the Castors were liaisons on the vampire side of society, but apparently they had pull on the human side as well. Ian tried to envision this conversation taking place. Drew a blank. Mentally shook it off. No, let’s not get bogged down with the details.
“I hope the next event we have, you’ll come with André,” Mrs. Castor said. “André said you were too shy to even consider coming last night, but now you’ve met us, surely it’ll be fine? I have the perfect suit designed for you.”
How exactly did it become his life that a fashion designer wanted to dress him up like a doll and show him off at a party? He felt his face heating as he mumbled, “Uh…André is the one with the model looks, not me.”
She waved this off. “André doesn’t let me dress him anymore. Felix is the only one I can depend on, really. And I disagree, Ian. You’re incredibly cute. I understand why André is so taken with you.”
“See!” André rounded the base of the stairs, a look of victory on his face. “I keep telling people he’s cute. Of course, I regret it almost immediately, as I want to keep the cuteness to myself, but I can’t seem to help it. Words come out on their own.”
“Resist,” Ian commanded him, his cheeks burning.
André cackled and skipped to the chair at his side, notably not agreeing.
This damn flirt. Ian would bend his ear about it later. He did not need André gushing about him. Just no.
“André, I want you two to come together to the next event,” Mrs. Castor said firmly.
“Of course.”
Ian apparently had used up his get-out-of-jail-free card. He would not be given another chance to escape.
