Page 38 of Don't Bite The Boss
“Regardless of divorces, disappearances and supposed bed-hopping,” Tess murmurs, “everyone will be at the wedding.”
“Apparently,” I nod to one of the news reports in a French rag that quotes Christopher, really Tristan, as saying he will be in Rome for the wedding of a friend next week.
“He has done that deliberately,” Tess says, “surely.”
“I don’t know what game those brothers are playing,” I mutter, “but you can bet it isn’t going to be anything that turns out well for our family.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Tess smiles, “like I say, weddings bring people together.”
“We aren’t people,” I snort, rising and offering her a hand up.
“Vampire’s then,” she quips, releasing my hand and flicking me on the nose with her finger before handing me the laptop.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I frown, as a vague and unwelcome suspicion begins to form. All of us in one place at the same time, after Solomon’s very recent, well only two months anyway, attempt at regaining us. No, this can’t be anything but a very, very bad idea.
“Well, I can’t wait,” Tess grins, “and remember I’ll be three days behind you. I can’t leave until I’ve arranged all the care for Orson, and the kittens, and the chickens, and, oh yes, collected Valerie from school,” she groans.
I start laughing before she can finish, and pushing Orson away from where he is snuffling my leg, walk inside to pack.
15
“Why?” I scowl, throwing my hands up in annoyance as the sliding door to the plane’s bedroom opens, and he saunters to the couch opposite me.
I’d run if I could, avoid him, but we are in the air.
‘Why can’t we turn into bats? So annoying that every vampire myth known to man includes this skill, yet it is total shit.’
I try not to acknowledge the stirring I feel at seeing him, the tears that want to spill from my eyes over how much he has hurt me, the lust I feel seeing him dressed casually in form-hugging jeans and a black, long-sleeved woollen sailor’s jumper.
The thirst I feel as his scent hits me.
‘Mouth-watering, asshole.’
He shrugs.
“I knew there wasn’t any other way I would get to be with you where you would have to listen to what I need to say. You can’t fly, at least I don’t think you can, so you are trapped on this jet with me for the next ten hours, give or take.”
I scowl.
“If you needed to speak to me so badly, why didn’t you pick up the phone in the past two months?”
“I was busy,” he says quietly, pouring a drink and handing it to me.
‘Yes, you were. With a string of women, you bastard!’
I shake my head at his proffered drink, and he shrugs again and downs it in one mouthful. I can see from his body language, hear his heartbeat, he is more on edge than he is letting on, but again, why?
“How did you know Tess wouldn’t be with me?”
He smiles.
“Of course,” I shake my head, “she knew about this, didn’t she?”
He nods. “Don’t be angry with her,” he says gently.
“Oh, I’m not angry withher,” I snipe, “she’s a hopeless romantic. I’m angry with you for this ridiculous stunt. And I’m just surprised you don’t have a bed full of brainless blondes accompanying you.”
He leans back in the couch and raises one eyebrow, nodding in the direction of the bedroom.
