“And you are sure this dress is a good idea?” I asked skeptically.
“Absolutely. Hunger can be a very good thing in a man like Toven.”
“Isn’t it like putting a steak in front of a starving dog?” My arms wrapped protectively around my middle.
“Toven has far too much self-control to hurt you. Now, you really must get dressed.” She shooed me forward.
From the dresser, I selected a strapless bra and matching pair of lacey underwear. I slipped them on under my robe, then shrugged the robe from my shoulders.
Pulling the dress over my head, I marveled at the feel of the fabric against my skin. Where in the world did Jacque shop for clothes?
The satiny material settled in place, the skirt cascading over my hips. Sliding my arms through the off-the-shoulder cuffs, the bodice shifted into place. Mrs. Burkett quickly stepped up to zip the back for me. I smoothed the fabric as she spun me a half turn to see myself in the mirrored wardrobe doors. My eyes met Mrs. Burkett’s beaming face in awe.
The neckline was lowcut, showing just enough cleavage to attract attention. The off-the-shoulder design left my neck and shoulders bare. The skirt flared in a flirty manner from my waist and stopped mid-thigh. I glanced back up to meet Mrs. Burkett’s gaze.
“Wow. Is that really me?” I whispered.
“Yes, dear, it really is.”
She squeezed my shoulders with affection. I imagined this was what it would’ve felt like if I had a mother helping me get ready for a date. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes of the unexpected moisture.
“Let’s get your hair and makeup done before Toven gets here,” she urged.
She shepherded me to the vanity. I sat as she began combing through my hair. She worked rapidly, pinning and tucking various strands. Until she was completely done, I couldn’t tell how the finished look was going to appear.
“There, all done,” she declared after securing one more pin.
My hair was even more striking than the night before. It was piled on top of my head in a cascade of artfully arranged tresses. Pulling out my makeup bag, I lightly applied just enough to add some extra color. I rubbed in a little of Sandra’s special lotion with the strawberry-vanilla scent added.
The thud of the front door closing had me scrambling to put on a pair of pumps.
Mrs. Beckett pressed my shoulder, forcing me to perch on the end of the bed. “Stay here for a few minutes. You must make an entrance. I’ll go make sure Toven waits downstairs for you.”
I took a calming breath. I wasn’t this nervous the night of my senior prom. Just relax. This wasn’t a real date anyway. It was just part of my contractual obligations.
Contractual obligations.
No matter how many times I repeated that mantra, my heart rate would just not slow down. Butterflies flapped chaotically in my belly. I took one more breath then walked from my room to the head of the stairs.
Voices drifted up from the foot of the staircase, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Stepping forward, I saw Mrs. Burkett talking with Toven at the bottom. I descended a few steps before his eyes drifted up to me. When they did, he just stared.
At that moment, I would’ve given anything to be able to read his mind. Perhaps, I should offer to pay him for his thoughts. A wide smile spread across his face. When I got close to the bottom, he reached a hand up to assist me the rest of the way.
There went that zing again. Did he feel it too?
“Celesta, you look absolutely stunning.”
“Thanks,” I murmured quietly. I wasn’t used to compliments, especially from men like Toven.
We stood there just staring at each other. With me still a step from the bottom, we were eye to eye. How easily I could get lost in his gaze.
“You kids better get going before they give your table away,” Mrs. Burkett commanded, snapping us out of our daze.
“They wouldn’t dare. But she’s right, we should go.” Toven tugged my hand, drawing me toward him.
I stepped down next to Toven and gave Mrs. Burkett a little sideways hug. “Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t mention it, dear. Have a good time.” She squeezed me briefly then patted Toven on the shoulder.
He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and led me through the kitchen to a door opening to the garage.
“Do you mind if I drive rather than have William chauffer us tonight?” He glanced down at me.
“No problem. But out of curiosity, why do you want to drive rather than be chauffeured?”
“Well, William worked out on the grounds today, and he should probably rest.” He ushered me through the door and into a large garage.
My heart melted a little at his concern for his employees. Perhaps, he did love them in his own way.
He opened the door of a sleek, black car. I slipped into the leather seat. With wide eyes, I looked at all the features inside, trying to figure out what kind of car it was. He slid behind the wheel and started the engine. The rumble vibrated every cell of my body.
“What kind of car is this?” My fingers ran across the console.
“A Maserati Gran Turismo.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said in awe.
He chuckled. “Beautiful wasn’t exactly what I was going for when I bought it. But it works.”
“What were you going for?” I asked as I rubbed my fingers across the dash.
He reached over me and grabbed my seatbelt. Tugging it across my body, he secured me in the car. The caring act had my heart rate floundering once again.
“Well, I was going for sleek, yet inconspicuous,” he said as he put the car in gear and drove out of the garage.
As he accelerated on the straightaway, a thrill shot through my veins. I’d never cared much for cars or speed before, but this was incredibly exhilarating . . . and such a turn on. Parts of me were enjoying the delicious vibration created by the engine.
“About this morning . . ..” He glanced over at me. “I’m sorry I had to run out to work and couldn’t give you that tour I promised you. I’ll show you around tomorrow, I promise.”
“It’s OK. I understand things come up.” I couldn’t keep myself from peering over at him for an instant before casting my gaze back to my lap where my fingers twisted nervously. “I’m just glad you didn’t leave because . . . well, you know.”
“Because of the bomb you dropped this morning?” his tone was an odd mixture of sternness and humor.
“Yes, I thought you were going to send me back to B.I.T.-10 for breach of contract,” I whispered.
“How do you feel you breached your contract?” His lips pursed into a frown, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Because I didn’t disclose my complete lack of sexual experience beforehand.” Turning, I stared out my window at the scenery blurring by in the darkness.
“You thought that would be a turn off?” he scoffed.
“Yes,” I answered in the tiniest voice.
He didn’t respond, just continued to drive. The hush was deafening. Thankfully within minutes, we’d arrived at the valet stand of the restaurant. He put the car in park. I reached to open my door and leave the silence which had become uncomfortable, but he placed a hand on my arm to halt my retreat.
Tipping my chin up with one finger, he forced my eyes to meet his heated amber gaze.
“You, silly girl. Your virginal status is just the opposite of a turn off. It makes you damn near impossible to resist,” he growled as he closed the distance between our faces.
His breath fluttered across my lips. Unconsciously, I licked my lips. Heat flared in his eyes as his gaze followed the path of my tongue. His thumb traced my now damp lips ever so lightly. I leaned toward him, silently begging him to kiss me.
To my disappointment, he remained frozen in place. I reached my fingers up to touch his mouth. He grabbed my wrist with his free hand to halt my motion and pressed a kiss to my fingertips before backing away.
“It’
s taking everything within me to resist you. And believe me, it’s safer for you if I keep fighting my instincts where you’re concerned,” he said gruffly.
I cast my eyes down. I didn’t understand why he’d want to resist me. Was there something about me that made him not want me? Vampires were supposed to be extremely sexual beings. I bet every other girl who got a contract last night had already had sex with her employer.
What was wrong with me? And why had my tune changed? Yesterday I was worried I’d have to have sex with a vampire. Now I was worried that one didn’t want to have sex with me.
“Let’s go eat,” he said with resignation.
I reached for my door handle once more. He pulled me back.
“Stay put.”
He exited the car and handed the keys to the valet. With quick steps, he approached my door and helped me out. He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. As I rose up from the car’s interior, I collided with his rock-hard chest. He placed his hand on the small of my back and leaned in to whisper in my ear, “So damn irresistible.”
He planted a kiss to my jawline before putting space between us and ushering me into the restaurant. I forced my breaths to come out slow and steady in an attempt to control my heartbeat.
“Mr. Adams, it’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while. We have your usual table ready for you.” The hostess was nearly tripping over herself trying to smile at him and get him to glance her way.
“Thank you,” he said, never looking at her.
“Right this way,” she said as she led us to a secluded, corner booth.
I slid into one side as Toven sat across from me. To hide my nerves, I picked up the menu and flipped it open. My eyes frantically scoured the pages. There were no prices, no pictures and no English. How the heck was I supposed to order something to eat when I couldn’t read the menu?
The panic must have shown on my features because Toven chuckled and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t read the menu and there are no prices,” I hissed in horror.
“Don’t worry about the prices—I’m a billionaire. As for not reading French, I can solve that problem as well. Do you trust me?” His eyes glinted with mischief.
I paused, considering the weight of his question. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll order for you. If you hate it, you can always raid the fridge when we get home.”
Home. The word warmed my heart. I hadn’t had a place to call home in so long. It was nice to have one for the moment. And even better to be sharing it with Toven.
The waitress stopped by our table. “My name’s Mandy, and I’ll be serving you tonight.”
She placed silverware down on Toven’s far side, so she’d have to lean over him to put it in place. His eyes never left mine, not even to look at her prominently displayed cleavage.
“What can I get you to drink,” she asked Toven.
“We’ll each have a glass of Chateau Petrus, and I’ll have a glass of B-negative also please,” he ordered in a formal tone.
“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” She walked away, swaying her hips in an exaggerated manner.
“How were things at the office,” I asked.
“They were fine. I had things to tend in various branches of the corporation. No major fires, but a few things that demanded my attention a little sooner than Monday.”
“That’s good. I don’t know a lot about your corporation, but I know you have business ventures in quite a few fields,” I said, hoping he’d share bits of his life with me.
“Yes. In addition to my musical company, I have a real-estate development company, a night club, a software company and a cutting-edge pharmaceutical research company.” He ticked off each venture on one of his long fingers.
“Wow. I bet all that keeps you busy.” I shook my head in wonder.
“It does. But I have nothing but time, so busy is good.”
Before we could talk more, our waitress reappeared and placed our glasses in front of us. She looked at him seductively as she asked, “What can I do for you tonight, Mr. Adams?”
“We’ll both have the Filet de Boeuf aux Morilles. She’ll take hers medium, and I want mine rare.”
“Will that be all?”
“Yes.”
She stood there a few moments longer, trying to will Toven to glance at her, but he never did. Instead, he reached across the table and took my hand in his.
She walked off with a huff, causing me to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“She may spit in my food before she brings it to us.”
“Why?” he asked, perplexed.
“She was eye humping you the whole time, and you wouldn’t even look her way.” I squeezed his fingers where they clasped mine.
“Why would I look at anyone else when I’m sitting across from the most exquisite woman in the world?”
I blushed at his declaration. Picking up my wine glass, I took a nervous sip. “Wow, this is good. I bet it goes to my head quickly.”
“Can’t hold your liquor, Ms. Winston?” He winked at me.
“Not too well. I’ve never been a big drinker,” I admitted as more heat flooded my cheeks.
“So, how was your day? Did you come up with some ideas on how to fix me?” His change of subject was welcome.
“I’m not sure you need fixing, but your image needs establishing,” I explained, leaning forward.
“Do you have some ideas of how we should go about doing that?”
“Yes. I made a list, but I left it at home. I can tell you some of what I thought of though.” My index finger traced the rim of my wine glass.
“I’d love to hear your thoughts.”
“Well, you need a website for Lyrical Enterprises. I also need to create you a Facebook account, as well as Twitter and Instagram accounts. We should also video you playing some of your available songs and generate a YouTube channel for you.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” he grumbled.
“I can have them all up and running for you within the week. Then we’ll need to take some pictures and videos of you to use. As we accomplish each step, I’ll explain what we need to do at the next stage. I don’t want to overwhelm you all at once.” I fidgeted with my napkin.
His expression turned thoughtful. “Good idea, though I’m not easily overwhelmed. Did you have any questions for me?”
“I wrote down quite a few things I was curious about. But one thing I really wanted to ask about is your music composition books,” I said excitedly.
“What about them?” He tipped his head to the side, considering me.
“Well, I’m not exactly a music connoisseur, but as I read through one of your books, I felt like some of the lyrics were familiar. I can’t read the notes, so I couldn’t put a tune with the words. But the titles of the songs that sounded familiar were all wrong.”
He laughed. “Are you already discovering my secrets after only a day?”
“What do you mean?” I sipped my wine while I waited for him to enlighten me.
“Well, when I sell a song for an artist to use, I do what I can to protect the fact that I originally wrote it. So, when the song sells, I go back to the original and rename it in a way that the title still means the same thing but isn’t as easily recognizable,” he explained.
“Why would it matter if the sold songs were recognized?”
He tipped his wine glass up and took a hearty swallow. As he set his glass back down, he said, “Some artists take great pride in writing their own songs. So, when they have to buy a song written by someone else, it’s very important to them that the fans not know. I don’t care about the notoriety that comes with releasing a hit song; I care about the music and that the music I create is being heard.”
“So, you help bands save face by not claiming to be the songwriter. And to keep anyone from ever finding out the truth, you change the names of the songs?” I asked.
“Basically, yes.”
> “Toven, you really surprise me.”
We stared deeply into each other’s eyes. I vaguely remembered I was never supposed to look directly into a vampire’s eyes. But for some reason, I didn’t think the warning was necessary to protect me from Toven. I didn’t know how long we just looked at each other, but the moment was broken when our waitress set our plates in front of us.
Oh, thank God. My plate had a steak on it. I grinned in relief.
“Were you afraid I’d ordered you snails or something?” he teased.
“Are you sure you can’t read my mind?” I laughed.
The steak was delicious. Our evening passed all too quickly. I couldn’t ever remember having a date that was so pleasant and so charged with sexual tension. And this wasn’t even a real date.
How was I ever going to survive being Toven’s fake girlfriend without begging him to take me and put me out of my sexual misery?
13
Toven
Sitting across from her was the best form of hell I could imagine. I couldn’t believe she thought I’d be turned off by her purity. Yesterday, I didn’t think I could’ve been more attracted to her. Then she revealed that delectable little tidbit about herself and I was a goner.
Conversation over dinner was easy and fun. I couldn’t recall ever enjoying a meal more, even a meal accompanied by sex—and that was saying a lot.
“So, obviously, I don’t speak French. What does Delicieux de Manger mean?” she asked as she ate a bite of her steak.
“It means delicious to eat. And that describes more than just the food on the menu here tonight,” I answered with a raised brow.
She immediately blushed and looked down at my insinuation but not before a hint of a smile graced her wine-stained lips. My insides clenched in desperate need. If she had any idea what her blush did to me, she’d probably try not to do it so often. Though it put me through hell, I loved to see her skin flushed with heat. I loved even more that I was the cause of it. I yearned to make her skin rosy all over, and I longed to unveil each delectable inch to my hungry eyes.
Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1) Page 17