Page 55 of B Negative

Nineteen

An hourand a half into the designer’s textile presentation, B and Sherrie both snoozed on the loveseat and I’d learned more about fabric than I ever wanted to.

Really. Who cares what the different price points of chintz is? What even was chintz? Or where it was sourced from?

He held up the seventh bolt—that’s what a large portion of fabric is called—of off-white, beige, neutral fabric that looked identical to the last one, and I’d cracked.

“You said the wool was sourced in Pakistan, right?” I asked politely.

The designer nodded. “That’s right, from happy alpacas kept and shorn ethically.”

“Oh, that’s good to know,” I said with a smile.

The designer nodded once more and found his spiel once again.

“And where is the wool processed? Do you know?

The man, an ageless vampire who took the 90s heroin chic look to the extreme, settled his dark gaze on me. “I’m not entirely sure where the wool is processed,” he said, lips tight, though his tone remained affably light.

“Hm, I see. And what of the factory conditions where the yarn is turned to fabric? What do you know about that?”

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. Even Sunny. But no one said anything.

“I apologize if I’m making everyone uncomfortable. It’s just as the new queen of one of the wealthiest—” Sunny cleared her throat delicately, correcting me. “The wealthiest vampire city, it is incumbent on her to show where her values lie by not supporting brands whose profit relies on what amounts to slave labor and substandard working conditions.”

The designer’s lips paled.

I stood, gathering the bolts of fabric and piling them into the poor man’s arms. “So why don’t you call Ms. River’s assistant once you’ve sourced quality fabrics that haven’t been made with the sweat of underpaid people?”

“You’re right, Ms. Vaughn. I’ll do my research and be in touch, Ms. Rivers.” The designer paused, hand over the doorknob. “And Ms. Vaughn, when I come back with vetted brands, I expect you to keep my firm in mind when you redo your mate suite.”

I smiled at the man. “I absolutely will.”

The moment the designer left, I apologized profusely. “I really didn’t mean to steamroll your consultation, Sun.”

She rose from her seat next to me. “I didn’t realize you had such strong feelings about fabrics.”

“I don’t. I have strong feelings about continuing to be a part of a system that takes advantage of the working class.”

Sunny nodded. “And how much do you think those righteous ideas got in the way of your and Julian’s relationship?”

“A fair bit. I wanted nothing to do with him at first. But I figured a girl like me taking a huge paycheck from him aligned more with my values than not.”

“Do you think you still have any judgments about him based on his wealth?”

“Of course I do, Sun. It’s not a mindset that disappears overnight.”

Sunny nodded, getting up from the sofa. “Good. As long as you’re aware of it. I’d hate to see one more thing get in the way of your mate bond.”

B and Sherrie still napped on the loveseat. If they were mates, how many stages had they blown through in one night? Julian told me it was important to wait between stages, but that didn’t seem to be an issue with them, not if they were already in the sleeping-all-the-sleeps phase.

I’d almost slept through the whole incursion because of that phase.

I hoped she was off today or had at least called out.

But that only reaffirmed my desire to learn what I could. So, while the two lovebirds snoozed, Sunny and I moved the table back into her bedroom and hit the books again.

My human primer book was actually not that big of a help. I’d read through most of it in an hour, and while it had some info, most of it was stuff I already knew.

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