her.’
‘Well, let me go to Venezuela then! I still need to find those bastards who tried to kill Rogu3!’
‘It’s too complicated for a new vampire like you to avoid the sun on such a journey. Plus, it’s a large country and no one has been able to pinpoint their exact location.’ He picks up his fountain pen, indicating that our conversation is coming to an end. ‘I sincerely hope you’ve not been in touch with that child.’
‘No,’ I answer shortly. Rogu3 has suffered enough because of our relationship. ‘Good. You should go now. Lord Montserrat is waiting for your call.’
He bends his head and starts scribbling on a notepad. I stay where I am for a moment, staring at him. Then I shake my head and stalk out.
*
What’s galling is that it’s actually not a bad plan. Despite my best efforts, I do appear to be the media darling of the moment while Michael remains the devil incarnate. It doesn’t help that everyone knows that I absconded from the Montserrat Family embrace. I’ve read various articles opining that they were all monsters and I couldn’t stand to be around them any longer. Those articles don’t mention the reality: that I’m as much of a ‘monster’ as they are. It still doesn’t mean I want to pretend to be his latest love, though. For one thing, I’m not sure I trust myself.
I drum my fingers impatiently on the chair arm as I wait for him. I wonder if he’s deliberately making me cool my heels. It would make sense: he came to my aid at the television studio and arrived too late to be of any use. He’ll want to remind me who’s really got all the power even though he is accepting my help.
‘Good evening, Bo.’
I glance up, stiffening slightly. He’s wearing one of his Montserrat blue suits, with a crisp white shirt underneath. There’s no tie and the top buttons are undone, revealing smooth, tanned skin that no self-respecting vampire should be allowed to have. He looks more like a bloody model than a leading member of the bloodguzzling fraternity. I resist the urge to look down at my own clothes. My grandfather’s comments about appearing grubby are already making me feel inferior enough.
I get to my feet, holding out my hand awkwardly in a bid to keep things formal. ‘Good evening.’
Instead of shaking it, he takes hold of my fingers and gently brushes them with his lips. The gesture would be sleazy from almost any other man; unfortunately from him, it has the opposite effect. My heart starts to race and my mouth goes dry.
I snatch my hand away. ‘That’s not necessary,’ I blurt out.
His face remains impassive. ‘You gave me your hand.’
‘To shake! Not to slobber over!’
He quirks an eyebrow. ‘Slobber?’
‘You don’t kiss Ursus’s hand, do you?’
Michael looks amused. ‘No, I don’t. But I’m not trying to pretend that Ursus and I are involved.’
‘We’re alone. You don’t need to put on a show for the walls.’
He leans his head to one side. ‘You’re really annoyed about this.’
I sniff. ‘Are you surprised?’
‘If you don’t want to do it…’
‘You know I don’t want to do it.’ I lift my chin. ‘But I will. We need to set some ground rules first, that’s all.’
He folds his arms. ‘Go on then.’
‘We keep the displays of affection to when we’re out in public. Otherwise there’s no point.’
‘It’ll look awkward if we don’t normally…’ I narrow my eyes. He holds up his hands. ‘OK.’
I tick off my fingers. ‘We only meet in public when there are definitely going to be lots of press around.’
‘From what I hear, that won’t be a problem for you.’
I scowl. ‘No more than one date a week.’
‘Four.’ He regards me steadily. ‘The world needs to believe we’re in love, Bo.’
‘Fine. Two dates.’
Michael shakes his head. ‘Three.’
I hiss through my teeth. He gives an amiable shrug.
‘If you see someone else on the side, you make sure no one finds out. I don’t want to look