How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire las-1

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How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire las-1 Page 8

by Kerrelyn Sparks


  Roman turned. "Shanna, this is Gregori's mother and my personal assistant, Radinka Holstein."

  "How do you do?" Shanna extended a hand.

  Radinka looked her over for a moment. Just when Shanna thought the woman was going to refuse to shake hands, she suddenly smiled and gave Shanna's hand a tight squeeze. "At last, you have come."

  Shanna blinked, not sure how to respond.

  Radinka's smile widened, and she switched her gaze to Roman, then to Shanna, then back to

  Roman. "I'm so happy for you both."

  Roman crossed his arms and scowled at the woman.

  She touched Shanna on the shoulder. "If there is anything you need, you let me know. I'm either here or at Romatech every night."

  "You work at night?" Shanna asked.

  "The facility is open 24/7, but I prefer the night shift." Radinka waved a hand in the air, her perfect fingernails painted a glossy, dark red. "The day shift is far too noisy, all those trucks coming and going. You can hardly hear yourself think."

  "Oh."

  Radinka adjusted her purse in the crook of her elbow and looked at Roman. "Was there anything else you needed?"

  "No. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned to go up the stairs. "Come, Shanna."

  Sit. Bark. Roll over. She glared at his back.

  Radinka chuckled, and even that sounded exotic and foreign. "Do not worry, dear. All will be fine.

  We will talk again soon."

  "Thanks. It was nice to meet you." Shanna went up a few steps. Where was Roman taking her?

  Hopefully, he was just showing her to a guest room. But if Laszlo had his tooth, she should try to implant it as soon as possible. "Roman?" He was too far ahead of her, already out of sight.

  At the first landing, between floors, Shanna paused to look down at the beautiful entryway. Radinka was headed for a pair of closed doors on the right of the foyer. Her gray leather pumps clicked on the polished marble floor. She seemed sort of odd, but then Shanna figured everyone in this house was a little on the strange side. Radinka opened the doors, and the faint sound of a television spilled into the entryway.

  "Radinka!" a female voice squealed. "Where is ze master? I zought he would be wiz you." As she continued to speak, her French accent became more apparent.

  Another accent? Good God, she was trapped inside the International House of Nutcakes.

  'Tell him to come," the French accent continued. "We want to play."

  Other female voices joined in, all urging Radinka to fetch the master at once. Shanna snorted. The master. Who the hell was that? He sounded like a male Playmate of the Month.

  "Hush, Simone." Radinka sounded angry as she entered the room. "He is busy."

  "But I came all ze way from Paris—" The plaintive voice was cut off when Radinka shut the doors.

  Weird. Which guy were these ladies wanting? One of the Scotsmen? Yum. She wouldn't mind a peek under a kilt herself.

  "Are you coming?" Roman stood on the second floor, glowering down at her.

  "Yes." She ascended the stairs, taking her time. "You know, I really appreciate all you've done to ensure my safety."

  His frown cleared. "You are welcome."

  "So I hope you won't mind that I have a few concerns about your security team."

  His brows lifted. He glanced behind him, then gazed at her calmly. "They are the finest security force in the world."

  "Well, maybe so, but—" Shanna reached the second floor and there, on the landing behind Roman, was another kilted Highlander.

  The Scotsman folded his brawny arms across his broad chest and regarded her sternly. Behind him, on the wall, a series of oil paintings hung, all portraits of richly dressed people who appeared to be glaring at her.

  "Would you care to elaborate?" Roman asked quietly, a glint of amusement in his golden-brown eyes.

  Damn him. "Well." Shanna cleared her throat. It was a good thing she was a dentist. Every now and then, she had to extract her foot from her mouth. "I must admit that the Scotsmen are all extremely handsome men. Any woman would think so." She noted the Highlander's face softening a bit.

  "They're very sharp dressers. Gorgeous legs. And I just adore the way they talk."

  Now the Scotsman was starting to smile. "Good save, lass."

  "Thank you." She smiled back.

  Roman, however, was frowning once again. "Since you obviously consider the guards to be perfect specimens of manhood, then what, pray tell, is your objection?"

  Shanna leaned toward him. "It's the weapons. All they have is a little sword at their waist—"

  "A Highland dirk," Roman interrupted.

  "Yeah, that, and a knife in their sock."

  "The sgian dubh," he interrupted once again.

  "Whatever." She glared at him. "I mean, look at that little knife. It's made of wood! We're talking pre-Bronze Age here, and the Russians have freaking machine guns! Need I elaborate?"

  The Scotsman chuckled. "Ye have a clever one there, sir. Shall I give her a wee demonstration?"

  Roman sighed. "Fine."

  The Scotsman instantly spun about, opening a portrait on the wall to disclose a hidden compartment, while he kept turning till he was facing Shanna once again. It all happened so fast, she barely had time to admire the swirl of his kilt when she realized he was now pointing a machine gun at her.

  "Wow," she breathed.

  The Scotsman put the weapon back and shut the portrait that was hinged along one side. "Are ye happy now, lass?"

  "Oh yeah. You were magnificent."

  He grinned. "Anytime."

  "There are armaments stashed throughout the house," Roman growled. "When I say you are safe, I mean it. Need I elaborate?"

  She pursed her lips. "Nope."

  "Then come." He headed up another flight of stairs.

  Shanna heaved a sigh. There was no need to be rude. She turned once more to the Scotsman. "I love your plaid. It's different from the others."

  "Shanna!" Roman waited on the next landing.

  "I'm coming!" She stomped up the steps with the sound of the Scotsman chuckling behind her. Jeez, why was Roman in such a foul mood all of the sudden? "While we're on the subject of security, there's one more problem I'd like to discuss."

  He closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. "And what would that be?" He ascended the next flight of steps.

  "It's about Ian. He's too young for such dangerous work."

  "He's older than he looks."

  "He's not a day over sixteen. The boy should be in school."

  "I assure you, Ian completed his schooling." Roman reached the third floor and nodded at the kilted guard posted there.

  Shanna waved at the guard and wondered if one of the paintings was hiding a thermonuclear device. Somehow she doubted that a house loaded with armaments was all that safe. "The point is, I object to a child being used to guard me."

  Roman continued up the next flight of stairs. "Your objection is noted."

  Was that it? Objection noted and dismissed? "I'm serious about this. You're the boss here, so I'm sure you can do something about it."

  Roman halted. "How did you find out I'm the owner of Romatech?"

  "I guessed it, but Connor confirmed it."

  Roman sighed, then resumed his climb up the stairs. "I need to have a little talk with Connor."

  Shanna followed him. "And if you won't do anything about Ian, I'll have to talk to his boss, Angus Mac Kay."

  "What?" Roman halted once again. He glanced back at her, his eyes wide with shock. "How did you hear about him?"

  "Connor told me he was the owner of MacKay Security and Investigation."

  "God's blood," Roman whispered. "I need to have a long talk with Connor." He trudged up more steps to the fourth floor.

  "Which floor are we going to?"

  "The fifth."

  Shanna kept climbing. "What's on the fifth floor?"

  "My private rooms."

  Her heart skipped a beat. Oh, Lordy. She reach
ed the fourth floor and stopped to catch her breath. A kilted guard stood in the shadows. "Where are the guest rooms?"

  "Yours will be on the fourth floor. I'll take you there later." He continued up the stairs. "Come."

  "Why are we going to your office?"

  "We need to discuss something important."

  "We can't discuss it now?"

  "No."

  What a stubborn man. With a sigh, she tried to think of something he would discuss. "Have you ever considered installing an elevator?"

  "No."

  She tried another topic. "Where is Radinka from?"

  "I believe it is called the Czech Republic now."

  "What did she mean—'at last, you have come. " Shanna started up the last flight of stairs.

  Roman shrugged. "Radinka believes she has psychic powers."

  "Really? Do you think she does?"

  He reached the top of the stairs. "I don't care what she believes as long as she does her job."

  "Right." The man had obviously flunked sensitivity training. "So you trust her with your work, but you don't believe her when she says she's psychic."

  He frowned. "Some of her predictions are wrong."

  "How do you know?" Shanna hefted herself up the last step.

  His frown deepened. "She has predicted that I will find great joy in my life."

  "What's wrong with that?"

  "Do I look particularly joyful?"

  "No." What an exasperating man! "So you're making yourself miserable just to prove her wrong?"

  His eyes flashed. "I am not. I was miserable for years before I met Radinka. She has nothing to do with it."

  "Well, hurray for you. You've made a lifelong commitment to misery."

  "I have not."

  "Have too."

  He crossed his arms. "This is childish."

  She crossed hers. "Is not." She bit her lip to stop from laughing. It was just too much fun to goad this man.

  He eyed her carefully, then the corner of his mouth twitched. "You're trying to torment me, aren't you?"

  "You like misery, don't you?"

  He laughed. "How do you do this to me?"

  "Make you laugh?" She grinned. "Is it a new experience for you?"

  "No, but I've been out of practice." He regarded her with wonder. "You do realize how close you came to being killed tonight?"

  "Yeah, I do. Life can really stink sometimes. You can either laugh about it or cry, and sometimes I'd just rather laugh." She'd cried enough already. "Besides, I was very lucky tonight. Just when I needed one, I found a guardian angel."

  His body stiffened. "Do not think that of me. I am far from… I am hopeless."

  Remorse simmered like molten gold in his eyes. "Roman." She touched his face. "There is always hope."

  He stepped back. "Not for me."

  Shanna waited, hoping he would say something, confide in her just a little, but he remained silent.

  She pivoted, looking around her. Another guard stood in a dark corner. There were two doors along the hallway, and between them, a large painting. She moved closer to study the landscape. It portrayed a sunset over a green, hilly land. Down in the valley, a mist hovered among the ruins of stone buildings, fashioned in the Romanesque style.

  "It's beautiful," she murmured.

  "It's… it was a monastery in Romania. There is nothing left of it now."

  Nothing but memories, Shanna suspected, and not very good ones judging from the harsh expression on Roman's face. Why would he keep a painting of Romania here if it disturbed him?

  Oh, right. Duh. The man liked misery. She took a closer look at the painting. Romania? That would explain his slight accent. Perhaps the buildings had been destroyed during World War II or the Soviet occupation, but somehow, the destruction looked much, much older than that. Strange. What could the ruins of an old monastery have to do with Roman?

  He moved toward the door on the right. "This is my office." He opened the door and waited for her to enter.

  A sudden impulse streaked through her, urging her to bolt down the stairs. Why? The man had saved her life tonight. Why would he harm her now? Besides, she still had her Beretta. She removed her purse from her shoulder and held it against her chest. Damn, after all she'd been through the last few months, she was incapable of completely trusting another person.

  And that was the worst part of all. She would have to be a loner for the rest of her life. All she had ever wanted was a normal life—a husband, children, good job, a nice house in a nice neighborhood, maybe a white picket fence. Just a normal life, dammit. And it would never happen. The Russians might not have killed her like they did Karen, but they had still managed to steal her life. She squared her shoulders and walked into the large room. She looked around, curious about Roman's taste in furniture, when a movement across the room caught her eye. Out of the shadows emerged two men. Connor and Gregori. She should have felt relieved, but their stern expressions worried her. The room felt suddenly cold. Too cold, with icy air swirling around her head.

  With a shiver, she turned toward the door. "Roman?"

  He locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket.

  She gulped. "What's going on?"

  Roman stared at her, his eyes wavering like golden flames. Then he stepped toward her and whispered, "It is time."

  CHAPTER 7

  Vampires had been using mind control for centuries. It was the only way to seduce mortals into being a willing food source. And it was the only way to erase their memory afterward. Before inventing the formula for synthetic blood, Roman had used mind control on a nightly basis. He'd never felt any qualms about it. It was a matter of survival. It was normal.

  These were the facts he'd told himself when he'd led Shanna up the stairs to his office. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Once he, Gregori, and Connor took over Shanna's mind, he could command her to implant his fang. Then, when the job was done, he could erase her memory of it.

  Simple. Normal. Then why did he get more frustrated with each flight of stairs? By the time he reached his office, he had serious doubts about this plan. Three vampires ganging up on one mortal?

  It might be the only way to break through Shanna's mental defenses. It might be the only way to get his damned tooth fixed. But it was starting to feel like a vicious assault.

  Now, as she stood in his office at their mercy, guilt surged inside him. There was no other way, he told himself. He couldn't be honest with her. If she found out he was a demon, she'd never volunteer to help. Without waiting, Gregori and Connor pounced. He could feel their psychic power swoop across the room, zeroing in on Shanna's mind.

  Her purse fell to the floor. She moaned and pressed the heels of her palms against her temples.

  Roman hovered over her mentally to see if she was all right. She was. She had erected a shield with more speed and energy than he thought humanly possible. Amazing.

  Gregori reinforced his attack, blanketing her with icy determination. Your thoughts will be mine! And mine. Connor's mind chiseled at her defenses.

  No! Roman shot his friends a warning look. They recoiled, staring at him, stunned. They had expected resistance from Shanna, not him. But the truth was, he wanted her thoughts to himself.

  And he wanted her safe. That much psychic force might be needed to crack her defenses, but once her shield crumbled, all that power could rip through her mind, leaving it in shreds.

  He strode toward her and pulled her against his chest. "Are you all right?"

  She leaned against him. "I don't feel good. My head… I'm so cold."

  "You'll be okay." He wrapped his arms around her, wishing his old carcass could produce more body heat. "You'll be safe with me." He covered the back of her head with his hand as if to protect her mind from further assault.

  His two friends exchanged worried looks.

  Connor cleared his throat. "Could I have a word with you?"

  "In a moment." They expected an explanation, but damned if Roman knew w
hat to say. How could he explain all these strange feelings that were consuming him tonight? Lust, desire, fear, amusement, guilt, remorse. It was as if meeting Shanna had woken his heart from a deep sleep. He hadn't realized how dead he was before meeting her. And how alive he felt now.

  A shudder jolted through her body. "Come and rest." He guided her toward the velvet chaise where he had fed on VANNA earlier that night.

  She curled up on the chaise, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm so cold."

  He considered dragging in the suede comforter from his king-sized bed in the adjoining room, then he spotted a burgundy chenille blanket draped over one of the wing-back chairs. He never used it, but Radinka had bought it for his office, declaring the room needed more warmth. He grabbed the soft afghan and stretched it out over Shanna.

  "Thank you." She pulled the fringed end up to her chin. "I don't know what came over me, but I just had the worst chill."

  "You'll warm up soon." He smoothed back her hair and wished he had time to smooth away all her fears. But Connor was pacing back and forth in front of the wet bar, and Gregori was leaning against a wall, glaring at him. "Gregori, would you make sure Dr. Whelan is comfortable? She might want something from the kitchen. Maybe some hot tea."

  "Okay." Gregori sauntered toward her. "Hey, sweetcakes. What's up?"

  Sweetcakes! With a grimace, Roman walked across the room to confer with Connor.

  The Highlander turned his back to Shanna and spoke very softly. Only a vampire with acute hearing would make out his words. "Laszlo claimed the lass was different. I dinna believe it, but now I do. I havena ever come across a mortal with that much mental fortitude."

  "I agree." Roman glanced back at Shanna. Gregori was apparently pouring on the charm because she looked amused.

  "Laszlo also told me that if yer tooth isna fixed tonight, it never will be."

  "I know."

  "We doona have time to be finding another dentist." Connor motioned to the antique clock on the mantelpiece. "Laszlo will be calling in eighteen minutes."

  "I realize that."

  "Then why did ye stop us? We were verra close."

  "Her mind was about to crack. I was worried that once we broke through, that much psychic power would destroy her mind."

 

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