Page 73 of Vampires of Eden
In the beginning when we clashed, I started going on Tuesdays and Thursdays because Daniel wasn’t there. Then, after we reconciled, I’d see him at the house on my designated days every week. I’m not sure why. He’d just be there. Every time.
Raphael eyes me suspiciously when I tell him that I’m switching to Friday this week, but he doesn’t argue or complain about changing my schedule around.
The weather is nice, so I decide to call Sebastian for a tennis match. We play in the morning, then meet with Nadya for brunch at a popular café downtown calledGinkgo. The owner of the café hired an architect to specifically build the structure around a large ginkgo tree that sits in the center. The courtyard is an open square for outdoor seating on sunny days like today. When it rains, the indoor portion of the café is best, which is comprised of glass walls so that the massive tree is visible from every seat.
“Ashwin is going to be livid that we didn’t invite her to brunch,” Nadya says.
Sebastian flicks his hand. The glamorous rings on his fingers shimmer in the outdoor sunlight. “Let’s not tell her. I vote we keep it a secret—a clandestine bruncheon.”
“If she finds out, just blame me?” I say, shrugging. “I’ll take the hit.” I couldn’t care less about Ashwin being upset with me. I think she’s been upset with me since she was born.
“Ashwin is already so annoyed with you, though,” Nadya says, shaking her head and practically reading my mind. “She still hasn’t gotten over that last poker night. Have you seen her since then? You hardly show up to anything lately, Goldie. What are you doing?”
“He told me that he’s taken on somepersonalprojects,” Sebastian teases. “Whatever that means.”
Nadya leans forward with her elbows and eyes me suspiciously. The motion makes the cluster of vibrant bangles on herarm jangle and sparkle. She lowers her voice. “Are you seeing someone?”
I scoff in a bitter laugh. “No.”
Without my permission, images of Daniel flash in my mind.
Him on the couch, wrapped in a red crochet blanket and with his raven-black hair in utter chaos as he pops strawberry halves into his mouth. Daniel soaked through from the rain and doubled over with laughter. The two of us strolling through a misty and skeletal grove of hornbeam trees. And again, us sitting on the front steps of the vineyard cottage and talking underneath an indigo stardust sky.
Him, pinching my waist and my goddamn eyes alighting.
Obviously, I have some serious issues that I need to work through.
Nadya turns to Sebastian. “Is he lying?”
Sebastian lifts his palms. “I have no idea what the hell he’s doing! I just hope heisn’tdoing Lord Cherrington.”
Collectively, we groan in disgust. Then laugh at the precise timing of our communal reaction. As we snicker like a bunch of juvenile vampires, the waiter returns to our table with a tray full of drinks balanced on one palm. He sets a Bloody Mary down for Nadya. A Mimosa for Sebastian. An orange juice for me, but then, to my surprise, a second drink. A golden sparkly-looking concoction in a champagne flute.
“Oh, I only ordered the orange juice,” I tell the waiter. “I didn’t order a cocktail.”
“Aleksey can’t handle his liquor,” Sebastian coos, picking up his drink. “A French 75 would make him silly.”
“It’s compliments from his grace sitting at the bar, your highness.” The waiter gestures and all three of us look inside the restaurant and toward the front door. From where we’re seated, we have the perfect view.
It takes me a second, but once I realize who’s there, my stomach drops.
Nadya gasps. “Lord Cherrington! Holy shit, Bas—you conjured him with your witch’s tongue.”
Sebastian chuckles. “I can do a lot of things with my tongue, but conjuring lecherous vampires is not one of them.”
“Kutte ke aulad—he’s looking over here. He’s looking!” Nadya straightens and we all go stiff as boards, awkwardly staring at each other.
“Are you going to speak to him?” Sebastian asks, relaxing and picking up his Mimosa. “Don’t drink that cocktail.”
“Right?” Nadya says. “What if he drugged it or something?”
“No,” Sebastian frowns. “A French 75 has both gin and champagne in it—Aleksey can’t handle that shit even if the old geezer didn’t add a roofie.”
“Ahh he’s coming over,” I say, panicking. “Shit.”
Nadya discreetly glances to the side to confirm, then looks back at me and makes a sad face, pouting. Sebastian takes a not-so-discreet sip of his Mimosa.
“Good afternoon, Lady Bhaduri, Master Ellis.” Lord Cherrington looms over our table, dressed casually but exquisitely in a waist-length leather jacket, a stylish button-up shirt and jeans. His thick silver hair is swept back and his face is clean shaven as he smiles politely.
