Page 6 of Don't Bite The Boss
“You can’t choose family,” he smirks, oblivious to my ruminations, “and that is not the only reason I hired you. I’ve seen your designs; they are terrific – I want to get to know you, and I want you as my landscape designer.”
I nod, saying nothing, but I’m secretly thrilled that he likes my work when his twin has always been so disparaging.
“So, are you still thinking of biting me?” he asks, his voice laden with, what? Amusement?
I shake my head.
‘Yes.’
“Good,” he nods, chuckling, “So, perhaps while you arenotthinking about it, let’s discuss our business arrangement.”
“Why aren’t you scared of me?” I blurt, before he can begin, “I’m so much stronger than you, a creature of evil. I kill people for food, you must know that. I clearly can’t be trusted,” I wave my hand at him and back at myself. “Most people would run screaming to the hills if a vampire tried to bite them once, let alone twice. Why risk it?”
He is silent for a long moment, and I think he is not going to answer me, but he does.
“I’ve spent a lot of time alone on my boat,” he shakes his head, looks up at the ceiling of the plane, “years travelling out of the way places, isolated islands, all over. I’ve seen….” He pauses momentarily, “some weird things out there, thought some weird things. When Chris told me of the existence of vampires, I wasn’t entirely surprised. And as it is, my business means I come into contact with all kinds of people, many probably more dangerous than you. And like I said, we are family now.”
I stare at him, saying nothing.
So,” he shrugs, “shall we talk about the job?”
I get the feeling there is more to his answer, more he is not sharing, but I nod and, sniffing, the pain in my face now all but dissipated, give him my undivided attention. I’m concentrating on his full lips, the line of his jaw accentuated by his three-day growth, recalling the way his hard thighs felt as I straddled him, focussing on another kind of need, rather than on the scent of his blood. It helps, but only a little, and I squirm uncomfortably on the couch.
“Basically, it’s just as I outlined in the contract specifications. Nick Radiche is going to be running the rebuild of the small Italian town near where I have purchased my new home. As part of the sweetener with the local council for allowing my changes to the old villa, and my business relocating to the province, I’ve offered a very reasonable rate for rebuilding their areas affected by the earthquake. You will design the new public open spaces and the grounds of my home.”
I nod. I knew all this weeks ago, apart from Nick’s involvement, that had been news, very welcome news, especially when Charlotte told me she would be moving to Italy with him. I’d worked with Nick before, on the Dark Knights Urban Renewal Company rebuilds, so I had every confidence we could work well together.
Of course, I hadn’t wanted to bite Nick; I didn’t find him irresistible. My new boss though…
I focus back on what he is saying.
“So, Mr Berrington,” I clear my throat, “the ruins of the Roman villa you have purchased. You and I are travelling there first, to discuss the particulars of your landscaping needs?”
“It’s Tristan, let’s not stand on ceremony. After all, you’ve recently had your ass on my lap and your teeth in my favourite jacket.”
I laugh.
“And yes,” he chuckles, shaking his head at my amusement, “we will fly there first, and then in a day or two, back to Paris to meet up with my fiancé, Fleur. She’s had time now to think over anything she might like to add to the design of the interior and exterior of the villa. This is going to be a family home, as well as my first real base since I left the States.”
‘Fiancé?’
I ask an entirely different question to the one at the forefront of my mind while I grapple with a flash of completely ridiculous jealousy.
“You don’t own another house?”
“I own a boat,” he smiles, “and that was all the home I needed. It suited me before, travelling from place to place, moving on a whim.”
‘A girl in every port, I’ll bet.’
He continues, oblivious to my wry inner monologue.
‘But after I marry, I expect my wife will want something a little more substantial to raise our family in.”
“Of course,” I nod, trying to smooth out the frown that my brain is evidencing.
‘Why don’t I like the idea of him marrying?’
‘I want my ass back in his lap.’
