“I can’t wait.”
Suddenly, Francine stuck her hand in the air and waved. “Lionel, honey, over here.”
The crowd seemed to part, and Francine’s sire appeared. He strode toward them in black leather pants and a sapphire velvet smoking jacket with no shirt underneath. He looked every inch the rocker with his jewelry and guyliner and chiseled jaw covered in a few days’ worth of dark stubble that paired well with the dark curls brushing his shoulders.
He was very handsome. But Donna was drawn to the fact that his eyes were on Francine and Francine alone.
As he joined them, he reached for her hands. “Frankie, my love.” He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed them. “Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been greeting our guests at the door, you silly goose.” She tipped her head toward Donna. “Our guest of honor has arrived. Lionel, meet Belladonna Barrone, governor of New Jersey.”
He hung on to Francine’s hands but broke eye contact with her to look at Donna. “Ah, the one and only Belladonna. Frankie speaks so highly of you. Anyone she approves of is good with me.” He finally let go of one of Francine’s hands to extend his to Donna. “It is my pleasure to meet you.”
Donna shook his hand. For all Francine’s talk about how they had an open relationship, Lionel certainly seemed devoted to her. “It’s my honor to meet the vampire who saved Francine’s life.”
His hand went to his bare chest, and he shook his head. “In all fairness, she saved mine. She is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Donna smiled at Neo’s prediction coming true.
Francine giggled. “You’re so silly. You know that’s not true.”
“Hush, pet.” He kissed her temple before looking at Donna again. “I need to meet your friends, and then we need drinks. I assume Frankie told you we have a large quantity of good champagne that needs consuming?”
“She did,” Donna answered. “This is my assistant and the man who saved my life, Pierce Harrison.”
Lionel shook his hand. “Yes, the attorney. Frankie told me all about you. What a wonderful thing you did for the governor. Say, how are you with living trusts?”
“They’re not my area of expertise, but I know someone if you’d like a recommendation.”
“I would, thank you. Let’s talk some more about that.”
“Happy to,” Pierce said.
Donna put her hand on Charlie’s arm. She was trembling. “And this is my admin, Charlene Rollins. I believe she’s acquainted with your music.”
“Are you a fan of Bittersweet?” Lionel asked.
Charlie nodded. “Yes,” she managed.
“I’m flattered.” He held out his hand. “Always lovely to meet a fan.”
As Charlie took his hand, Donna leaned in a little. “She wouldn’t be opposed to a signed something or other.”
“Governor,” Charlie growled. She shook her head at Lionel. “I couldn’t possibly…that is, I wouldn’t dream of—”
Lionel laughed as he released her hand. “Think nothing of it. I’ll have some things sent over to the penthouse tomorrow. How’s that?”
Donna smiled. “Would you mind terribly sending some things for my daughter, Christina? She’s a huge fan, too, and it would earn me a lot of mom points. I’m happy to pay for them.”
“Nonsense,” Lionel said. “For a friend of Frankie’s? Not having it. Come on, now. Let’s go see about that champagne.”
In short order, he waved over one of the servers walking around, and they emptied her tray of flutes.
When they all had a glass, Francine lifted hers. “Here’s to Donna. May your time as governor be successful and uneventful.”
Donna laughed. “Too late, but I’ll drink to that anyway.”
They all took sips of the bubbly, then Lionel kissed Francine on the cheek. “Time for me to sing, my love.” He looked at Charlie. “Care to join me? We play on the third floor. Better acoustics.”
“Go on,” Donna said to Charlie. Why not? It was a chance for Charlie to hear one of her favorite musicians of all time. Donna couldn’t let her pass that up.
“But I should be with you,” Charlie said. “Working.”
“And you will be. Right after you hear some music.”
“You’re sure?”
“Go,” Donna insisted. “I have Pierce with me. And Temo’s around here somewhere.”
“Thank you.” She took off with Lionel, the smile on her face transcendent.
Francine laughed. “She’s really a fan, isn’t she?”
“Huge,” Donna answered.
A short, portly man with an enormous but well-groomed mustache approached them. At his side was a terribly chic woman in a black slip dress, wearing her weight in Chanel pearls.
Whoever she was, his wife or his mistress, her dour expression seemed to indicate this was not how she’d wanted to spend her evening.
“Francine,” he exclaimed. “Is this the governor?”
By his accent, Donna assumed he had to be the French ambassador.
Francine nodded. “Monsieur Renard, come join us. Yes, this is Belladonna Barrone. Belladonna, this is Ambassador Hubert Renard and his wife, Sylvie.”
Donna smiled at them. “How nice to meet you.” She gestured to Pierce. “This is my assistant, Pierce Harrison.”
“Bonsoir,” Pierce greeted them. Then he proceeded to rattle off more French that proved Donna’s two years of high school language classes useless.
Sylvie Renard, however, cracked a smile for the first time since joining them, showing off a petite set of fangs. She suddenly became animated, or at least as animated as she seemed capable of, and engaged Pierce in conversation in French.
Hubert, however, seemed as happy to be at the party as a person, or vampire, could be. He nodded at Donna’s glass. “I see you are enjoying some champagne?”
“Yes.” Donna lifted her flute. “What a generous gift. And it’s delicious.”
His smile widened, revealing a pair of short fangs. “It was the least I could do to repay Francine’s generous invitation. Say, Madam Governor, have you been to France? We are always happy to host other dignitaries. We find that makes travel for them so much easier.”
“I haven’t been, but that is a very kind offer. I’ll definitely keep it in mind.”
Sylvie finally joined them in speaking English. “You are a lucky woman to have such a wonderful man as this as your assistant. You both must come visit us in Paris.”
“Your husband was just saying the same thing.” Donna looked at Pierce. “We will certainly consider it once my schedule lightens up a bit.”
Pierce slipped his arm around her waist. “A little travel would be nice.”
She nodded. “It would be.” How different would it be to see the world as the person she was now? And with a man like Pierce? The thought was more intoxicating than the champagne in her hand.
Music filtered down from upstairs, the low thrum of a bass guitar followed by the melancholy sounds of a ballad.
Francine looked up. “Lionel’s doing his best to impress your admin. That’s his most popular love song, Cry For Me.”
Donna suppressed a laugh. “We may have to mop Charlie off the floor when he’s done.”
Then a familiar voice came from the crowd behind her. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Governor Barrone.”
Donna’s mood shifted suddenly, and with great reluctance, she turned. “Good evening, Governor Fitzhugh.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Fitzhugh’s tux was impeccable, although the silk opera scarf around his neck and the enormous diamond studs on his shirt were a bit much for Donna’s taste. He raised the glass of champagne in his hand, revealing matching diamond cufflinks.
He emptied the drink, then deposited the flute on the tray of a passing server and picked up a full one.
He was showy. And obnoxious. And thought he ruled the world.
She reminded herself that she’d been dealing with
men like him all her life. And she’d just punched one of them yesterday. Twice.
He strode over to their little group. “Good evening, Governor. I see you’ve arrived with your staff. Interesting that you wanted nothing to do with my event, and yet here you are, at a party in your honor, in my state.”
To Donna, he sounded ever so slightly inebriated. How much had he had to drink already?
“Now, Hawke,” Francine started, “you promised me you were going to be on your best behavior this evening.”
He had the nerve to look aghast. “I haven’t done anything other than state the truth.”
Donna couldn’t help but laugh. This guy was nothing but a toddler with hurt feelings. “Your event was all about you. And really, how can you be put out that I would choose my lovely female friend’s invite over a man with his own best interests at heart? You really are a politician, aren’t you?”
He frowned at her, while Francine snickered and Pierce snorted. Hubert and Sylvie seemed a little unsure of what to do.
Donna stepped closer to Fitzhugh. The smell of alcohol filled her nose. Keeping in mind he wasn’t entirely himself, she lowered her voice and tried to talk reasonably to him. “Let’s not do this tonight. This is Francine’s party. The fact that I am her guest of honor is really secondary, and I can assure you, if you ruin this party for her, you and I will never come to terms on anything. Ever.”
He stared at her without speaking for a few long seconds, then downed his champagne. Once again, he dumped the empty glass on a server’s tray, but this time, he grabbed the bottle of champagne the woman was carrying and yanked the cork out. “You’re making a mistake.”
“By choosing my friend over political opportunity? I’m not sure you know the definition of the word mistake. Or loyalty, for that matter. One thing I am sure of is that you have no idea how little political opportunity means to me.”
His gaze stayed sharp and appraising, even while he seemed to waver on his feet. “That will change. You’ll see. And then you’ll wish you’d done things differently. But it’ll be too late then.”
“How dare you?” Pierce started.
Donna reached back to put her hand on Pierce’s arm. She knew his instinct was to protect her, but she didn’t want this to become a bigger scene than it already had.
Despite that thought, Fitzhugh’s impending drunkenness was no excuse for his attempt to intimidate her. She returned his gaze with a hard glare of her own. “Do not threaten me, Governor.”
He stepped back, suddenly casual and amused, lifting the bottle to his mouth for a drink. “I would never dream of such a thing. Merely offering you some words of advice.”
“When I want your advice, I’ll ask.” She was vibrating with righteous indignation now. She turned her back on him to face Francine and Pierce. “Let’s go find Neo and the First Fang girls. I want to see my friends.”
“Good idea,” Pierce said while staring Fitzhugh down.
Donna smiled at Hubert and Sylvie, schooling her voice into a calmer tone. “Such a pleasure to meet you both. I hope you have a lovely time this evening. I look forward to speaking with you again.”
Francine took Donna’s arm. “Neo’s probably in the library by now. I always set up a great blood bar back there. Dr. Goldberg hangs out in there, too, sometimes. Not sure where the rest of them might be. Upstairs enjoying the music or in the garden, maybe. Where would you like to go? The library? It’s quieter if you want a break.”
“Sounds perfect.” Donna let herself be led. She could feel Pierce behind her and knew he was angry about Fitzhugh.
When they were deeper into the crowd and had distance from Fitzhugh, Francine leaned in. “I’m sorry about Hawke. There was no polite way to keep him from coming, and since I live in his state—”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
Francine shook her head, clearly unhappy. “I did not know he’d drink so much. Or that he’d show up half drunk to begin with. Or that he was going to be so cross with you. I should have known he’d cause trouble.”
Donna laughed softly. “That wasn’t trouble. That was posturing. He’s mad because I won’t play his games. He’ll get over it.”
“I don’t know. But you’re being very gracious about it, so thank you.” Francine looked up at her. “If I’d had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be just like you.”
The sweet compliment made Donna feel a little weepy. “If I’d had a mother like you, I probably never would have married Joe. Which isn’t to say my mom didn’t do her best, but she wasn’t around much. And I think because of that, I was looking for someone to pay attention to me, you know?”
Francine patted Donna’s arm. “You’re a good girl. You just keep your head up and focus on what matters, and you’ll do fine.” She laughed. “You’re already doing fine.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
Getting through the crowd with Francine was like walking with the queen. Everyone had to talk to her, telling her how fantastic the party was, how beautiful her home was. How good, how great, how wonderful. They gushed over her.
Donna found it very entertaining, but by the time they reached the library, which appeared to be a kind of VIP area based on how few people were in it, she was ready for a break from the crush.
It was a good-size space but made cozy by the wood paneling and leather furniture. The walls were bookshelves stuffed with books. Dr. Goldberg was standing in front of one, chatting with a few people Donna didn’t know. At the back was a long bar with two bartenders behind it.
That’s where Neo was with Temo, and just as Francine had suggested, her dress was more skin than fabric. Donna was slightly jealous because she was sure she’d never looked that devastatingly beautiful in her life.
While Pierce and Francine settled in on one of the big couches, Donna gave Dr. Goldberg a little wave of greeting, then walked over to Neo, shaking her head as she went. “Wow.”
Neo grinned. “You like?”
The dress was deep-purple silk and cut down to Neo’s belly button and up to her hips. “Not only do I like, but I can’t figure out how you’re keeping it on.”
Neo leaned in and whispered, “Magic.”
“No, seriously.”
“No,” Neo said. “Seriously. It’s a spell. Cost me a couple bills and a firewall.”
Donna blinked. “There’s fashion magic? I didn’t even know such a thing existed.”
A bartender appeared on the other side of the bar. “What can I get you? We have every blood type.”
“I’m good,” Donna said. She’d had her fill from Pierce before they’d left and made sure he’d had his fill of her too. She needed him at his best tonight. Not that she suspected anything bad was going to happen, but Neo had told her to prepare to be unprepared.
Having herself and Pierce at full strength and having Temo here were the best ways she knew to do that.
“Quite a party,” Neo said.
“It is. I haven’t made it past this floor yet.”
Neo looked over Donna’s shoulder. “I see Pierce. Where’s Charlie? Or should I even ask?”
Donna smiled. “Upstairs. Listening to Lionel. He’s going to send a bunch of signed Bittersweet stuff to the penthouse for her and Christina.”
“That’s sounds just like him. He’s a good guy.”
“And the way he idolizes Francine.” Donna let out a little groan of joy.
“I know,” Neo said. “Is he even real? But you know, vampires tend to get more as they age. More dramatic, more sensitive, more cruel, more introverted. Whatever your strongest characteristics are, age tends to distill them down to their essence. Of course, we’re talking centuries here, not decades.”
“Interesting. That might explain a certain governor I ran into.”
“No way. Fitzhugh?”
Donna nodded. “Yep. And he was in a whole mood.”
Neo leaned into Temo, who’d moved to stand behind her. “What a tool. Francin
e’s party is not the place to work out your issues.”
“You can say that again—”
Behind her, the library doors burst open, accompanied by the rush of sound from the party.
Temo’s stance changed instantly, and Neo frowned.
Donna turned to see Fitzhugh had joined them. He was leaning slightly and still had a bottle of champagne in one hand, although there was no telling if it was the same one. He seemed less stable than he had before, and Donna knew one bottle wasn’t enough to cause that in any vampire. But then, Francine said he’d arrived already half in the bag. Just how long had he been drinking? And how much?
He scowled at her. His eyes glowed like reflectors. “You.”
Donna squared off toward him, putting Neo behind her. “What about me?”
The doors opened again, and LaToya, Meghan, Bunni, Lionel, and Charlie came in, a chatty little group that seemed afloat with happiness. They quickly quieted as they realized they’d interrupted something.
Fitzhugh whipped around to look at them, a move that forced him to take a few extra steps to stay upright. “The whole lot of you make me sick. You’re all here for what?” He turned and pointed the bottle at Donna. “For her? To celebrate that gangster’s moll? She’s a glorified reality TV star, and you all treat her like she’s—”
Pierce abruptly stood. “You don’t want to finish that sentence.”
Fitzhugh glared at him. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, assistant.”
This time, Francine got to her feet. “Hawke, that’s enough now. Why don’t you have some blood and sober up?”
Fitzhugh wavered, like he was considering it. Then his scowl deepened. “You should be ashamed of yourself, old woman. Throwing this party for that interloper. She’s trash, don’t you see that? The trophy wife of a criminal. Probably a criminal herself and—”
Pierce took a step forward, and his fist landed on Hawke’s jaw with a loud crack. The impact twisted Fitzhugh like a corkscrew. He dropped the bottle, causing a geyser of champagne to erupt when it hit the floor.
No one moved. No one said a word. It was like someone had pressed pause.
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