“I’ve always wanted to be brave,” Cora Lee whispered. “But I was too scared.”
“She’s coming.” Vanda motioned toward Corky Courrant who was bearing down on their table with a vicious, smug smile.
“Don’t let her humiliate you,” Darcy warned them. “It’s in your power to stop it.”
The ladies shot desperate looks at Princess Joanna.
She squared her shoulders. Her linen wimple wavered as she lifted her chin. “We’ll do it. We’ll be on your show and choose our next master ourselves.”
“Yes!” Vanda tapped the table with her fist. “This is going to be so cool.”
Maria Consuela clenched her rosary in her hands. “I can only pray it will not be as painful as the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Nothing’s as painful as the Spanish Inquisition.” Vanda smiled slyly, her eyes twinkling. “But once we find the Sexiest Man on Earth, he’s welcome to torture me all he likes.”
With a smile, Darcy relaxed in her chair. She’d done it. She had the five ex-harem judges, the huge penthouse with a hot tub, and fifteen male contestants to compete for the title. Everything was falling perfectly into place. “Let the show begin.”
Chapter 8
“How’s it going?” Gregori asked as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge on their way home.
“It’s great!” Maggie relaxed in the back seat, smiling. “I was going to the break room and passed by the studio where they do As a Vampire Turns. I peeked through the window, and I actually saw Don Orlando in person.”
“Okay.” Gregori smiled at Darcy. “And how is the reality show coming along?”
“Good.” Darcy thought about what she’d accomplished that evening. The limousines were rented. She’d hired a vampire-owned business to install aluminum shutters on the bedroom windows at the penthouse, so none of the guests would fry while they slept. Two DVN cameramen were selected. A caterer was hired to provide food for the human contestants. The artist was hard at work, painting two portraits each night. “I only have one problem left. I need to find a host.”
“What does the host do?” Gregori asked.
“Well, he’s good at breaking bad news. He dresses well and says brilliant things like ‘Gentlemen, there is only one rose left,’ as if no one in the room knows how to count to one.”
Gregori laughed. “And that’s it for his job skills?”
“Well, seriously, he needs to be dependable and someone I can totally trust.”
Gregori gave her a worried look. “You mean someone who won’t run to Sly behind your back to tell him what you’re doing, even though Sly is the one signing the checks.”
“Exactly.”
Gregori was silent as he turned south onto FDR drive. He drove around the southern tip of Manhattan and was zooming north on the West Side Highway when he took a deep breath and announced, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Excuse me?” Darcy asked.
“I’ll be your host. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course. But you already have a job. Don’t blow it off—”
“I’m not,” he interrupted her. “Look, I haven’t taken a vacation in three years. I mean, sheesh, I’m a little limited in where I can go. So, I’ll take a few weeks off. The show won’t last any longer than that, right?”
“No, a few weeks would do it.”
Maggie leaned forward. “This is great! Gregori will be a super host.”
“Well, thanks.” Gregori grinned. “After all, I am a sharp dresser, and I can even count to one.”
Darcy laughed. “You’re the best, Gregori. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. You’re actually getting those women out of my house. I’m eternally grateful.”
Darcy nodded. “Once they pick the Sexiest Man on Earth and he wins the million dollars, he’ll be their new master.”
“Poor bugger.”
The next night, Darcy took Maggie and the five ex-harem ladies to DVN. She introduced them to Sylvester Bacchus. He ogled Lady Pamela’s low neckline on her Regency-style dress. Then, he rushed off to his office to conduct auditions.
“What a dreadful man,” Lady Pamela said as they settled around the table in the DVN conference room.
Darcy passed out their contracts. “The good thing about being judges on this reality show is that if any contestant offends you, you can simply boot him off the show.”
Cora Lee frowned at the contract in front of her. “I do declare, all these big words don’t make any sense to me.”
Maria Consuela shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I…I never learned to read.”
“Oh.” Darcy tried to hide her surprise. “Well, basically, the contract states that you agree to stay on the show until the end, judge the men fairly to the best of your ability, and refrain from…biting any of them or attempting any sort of mental communication for the duration of the show.”
Princess Joanna frowned. “We cannot read their minds?”
“No. No mind control and no mind reading.”
“But we can make out with them, right?” Vanda asked.
Darcy winced. The thought of anyone else touching Adam made her heart twinge. “I suppose you could. If the men are willing.”
Vanda grinned and played with the end of the whip she wore around her waist. “Oh, they’ll be willing.”
Lady Pamela shuddered. “I cannot imagine wanting any man to touch me. I much prefer vampire sex. It’s much more civilized.”
“Si,” Maria Consuela agreed. “Mortal lovemaking is too physical and dirty. It reminds me of being tortured.”
“Okay. That’s settled.” Darcy turned to the last page of their contracts. “This is where you sign or make your mark.”
While Maggie picked up the signed contracts, Darcy handed a legal pad to Lady Pamela since she was able to write. “Now, I need you all to think about what qualifications a man would need in order to be the sexiest man on earth.”
Maria Consuela fingered her rosary. “I do not understand.”
“The man who wins the contest will become your new master,” Darcy explained. “Right now, I need you to choose what sort of characteristics you want him to have. Then, you’ll use those qualifiers to judge the men during the show.” The women stared at her blankly. “Look, what kind of master do you want?”
“Oh, I know, I know!” Cora Lee raised her hand like she was in school. “He needs to be extremely handsome and filthy rich.”
Darcy nodded. “The rich part will be taken care of when he wins the big cash prize. As for being handsome—that may indeed be one of your qualifications. I’ll need you to list a total of ten qualifiers in the order of their importance.”
“I agree with Cora Lee,” Vanda said. “Number one should be rich. Number two—a handsome face.”
“Let me make this clear,” Darcy warned them. “The qualifications you pick will determine what sort of master you end up with. So, you might want to consider intelligence, honesty, dependability—”
“Boring,” Vanda yawned. “I vote for rich and handsome.”
“I agree.” Lady Pamela wrote number one and two on the legal pad. “Wealth and good looks are essential.”
Darcy sighed. “What about kindness?”
“Fiddlesticks,” Cora Lee said. “He could be as kind as a saint, but if he has the face of a mule, I won’t be able to abide him.”
“That is truly spoken.” Princess Joanna motioned toward the pad of paper. “Number one must be wealth. Number two—fair of face.”
Darcy groaned inwardly, but refrained from interfering. After all, this was their master they were picking out.
“Excellent.” Lady Pamela wrote down their decision. “Now, for number three, I propose good manners. Someone who knows how to behave in polite society and address us by the proper title.”
“I agree,” Princess Joanna announced. “For number four, he should have the voice of a troubadour and be able to charm a lady with fine words.”
“Oh, I like that.”
Cora Lee nodded, her blond ringlets bouncing. “And he must be well-groomed. A sharp dresser.”
“Indeed.” Lady Pamela added those to her list.
“And he should be a very good dancer,” Cora Lee added.
“And a good lover,” Vanda said, grinning. “He should know how to please us.”
“Posh,” Lady Pamela scoffed. “I have no intention of involving myself physically with any man.”
“Fine,” Vanda muttered. “But we’d better make sure he likes women and does vampire sex well. And he should have a gorgeous body. We’ll have to look at him for centuries.”
Darcy was ready to scream. Whatever happened to intelligence, honesty, or dependability? “You seem to be doing very well, so I’ll leave you to it.” She hurried from the room before her frustration could explode. Their ideal man was a fast-talking, well-dressed troubadour who could dance and do vampire sex? Ugh.
She headed toward the break room, which was located by the recording studios in the back. As she rounded a corner, she ran into Gregori. “Hi.” She nodded at his companion. “Simone.”
“Bonsoir,” Simone replied with a smug smile. It was little wonder that Simone had become a famous fashion model for she was stunning. Tall, dangerously thin, with almond-shaped brown eyes and long black hair, she was dressed in her signature outfit—a slinky black catsuit with a rhinestone-studded belt.
“Simone just teleported in from Paris,” Gregori explained. “We’re starting work tonight on an exercise DVD.”
“How interesting,” Darcy murmured politely.
“It was Roman’s idea,” Gregori continued. “Since modern-day Vamps no longer bite, he was worried we could lose our fangs from disuse.”
“Ah.” Darcy nodded. “Mustn’t have those fangs falling out.” But wouldn’t that be a good thing?
“I will be zhe star of zhe DVD,” Simone announced. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “We are waiting for zhe famous director from Milan, Giovanni Bellini. Naturellement, I only work wiz zhe best.”
“Naturally.” Darcy nodded.
Right on cue, a small man in rumpled clothing and a black beret came sauntering around the corner. “Ah, bellissima! There you are, as beautiful as ever.” He kissed Simone on each cheek.
“Signor Bellini, this is Gregori.” Simone hesitated as she looked at Darcy. “And I forget zhis one’s name, but it is not important.”
“Thanks.” She gritted her teeth. “I’m Darcy.”
Giovanni nodded at her, then turned back to Simone. “Bellissima, this will be the greatest vampire film of all time. I envision doing certain pivotal parts in black and white to signify the bleak despair of the modern age.”
Gregori cleared his throat. “Mr. Bellini, it’s just an exercise program for our fangs.”
Giovanni stepped back, pressing a hand to his chest. “Even exercise can be portrayed as fine art. Imagine the conflict. Man versus his own corrupt, indolent nature. Come, bellissima.” He escorted her into the studio.
Gregori winced. “I shouldn’t have hired him, but Simone insisted.”
“You mean bellissima?” Darcy patted him on the shoulder, smiling. “Good luck.”
“Yeah, I’ll need it.” Gregori trudged into the studio and closed the door. The red light came on.
Darcy hurried back to her office. She opened the door and froze.
Adam Olaf Cartwright was sitting at her desk.
Chapter 9
He looked up and smiled. “Hello, Darcy.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. Wasn’t her world crazy enough without this man turning it topsy-turvy? As she closed the door, she wondered why he was sitting at her desk. Had he looked through her papers? She turned back to face him. He was still smiling. If he had snooped through her things, he didn’t look embarrassed about it. Besides, why would Adam be interested in contracts with caterers or limousine rental agencies?
And why did she react this way every time she saw him? Her heart was racing, but everything else seemed to slow down. She noticed every little delicious detail about him. And there was a good ten-second delay in all her responses because her brain was refusing to work properly. At this rate, he would think she was a moron. “Good evening.”
He stood and rounded the desk. “Sorry to take your chair, but the others are occupied.” He gestured toward the chairs facing her desk. Two packages, wrapped in brown paper and twine, sat in each chair.
“They’re portraits,” he explained before she could even ask. “I just came from having mine done. Fred is actually very good.” Adam grinned, displaying his dimples at their deepest. “You gotta admit, Fred is an unusual name for an artist.”
Unusual for a vampire, too, Darcy thought wryly. She tried to ignore her reaction to Adam, but it was hard to do when her heart was dangerously close to exploding in her chest. And all because of a pair of dimples and turquoise eyes. She wondered if Fred had managed to do him justice. “Is one of these yours?”
“No, mine was still a little wet.”
Oh yeah, a little wet. She could relate to that.
“Fred said these four were finished,” Adam continued. “He was too busy to bring them here, so I offered to do it for him.”
“You really didn’t need to do that.”
“Oh, but I did.” A corner of his mouth quirked up. “It gave me the perfect excuse to see you again.”
Her heart thumped louder in her chest.
“And then tomorrow, when my portrait is dry, I’ll have another reason to drop by and see you. A clever strategy, don’t you think?” His left dimple deepened.
She gulped. He was gorgeous. Fair of face with a sexy voice like a troubadour. Sheesh, he was a perfect match for the list the ex-harem ladies were making. Maybe they were on to something after all.
He sat on the edge of her desk. “So, how was your weekend?”
She stiffened, recalling how Shanna’s father had almost ruined her wedding. Surely Adam had had nothing to do with it. “I went to a wedding.” She watched him closely for a reaction.
He narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember, then nodded. “Right. Your friends, Raoul and Sherry. How’d it go?”
Darcy exhaled in relief. How could he have told anyone when he couldn’t even remember the names correctly? “It was fine.”
“Good.” He glanced away. His jaw shifted slightly, and she wondered if he was grinding his teeth. Suddenly, he gifted her with one of his fabulous dimpled smiles. “So where are they going on their honeymoon? What’s the popular place these days?”
Her heart stuttered in her chest. Why was he asking her that? “I—I don’t know.”
He nodded. “One of my sisters went to the mountains in Canada. Another went to Hawaii.” His dimples deepened. “I bet you would choose the beach.”
She looked away, her cheeks warming with a blush. He was right about that. But it was not likely to ever happen. She moved toward the door. “I’m very busy…”
He plucked a photo off her desk that showed the building where the penthouse was located. “So, this Raleigh Place is where we’ll be doing the show?”
“Uh, yes.” So he had looked at her stuff. Well, it was normal to be curious, right? After all, it was her own curiosity that had forever changed her life. A shiver skittered down her spine. Curiosity killed more than the cat.
He stepped toward her. “Are you all right?”
“I—I’m fine.” Did he really care?
“You certainly work long hours. It’s almost midnight.”
Her eye twitched. How could she possibly explain DVN’s odd hours to a mortal? “I—I have a lot of work to do.” And she needed to get him out of here. If Sly or any of the ex-harem saw him, they would instantly know he was mortal. And then, they would hound her with questions she didn’t want to answer.
“I understand.” He watched her sadly.
She suddenly suspected he understood more than he was letting on. Her guard went up. “Was there something you wanted, Mr. Cartwright?
”
“I want you to be safe.” He touched a lock of her hair that rested on her shoulder. “I want you to trust me.”
“I hardly know you.”
He rubbed the tendril of hair between his thumb and forefinger. “We can change that anytime.”
She wanted to sway forward and rest against his strong, broad chest. With effort, she forced herself to step back. “I don’t have any time.” She opened the door and peeked out. The hallway was clear. “Thank you for bringing the portraits.”
“You’re welcome.” He stepped into the hallway. “When does the show start?”
“We should be ready in two weeks. I’ll send all the information to your agent.” Darcy headed down the hallway, then froze when she spotted Sly talking to the receptionist. Shoot! Why couldn’t he be in his office, molesting Tiffany? Sheesh. When it came to men, even the perverts were undependable. She grabbed Adam’s arm and turned him in the opposite direction. “How would you like a tour?”
“Great.” He cast her a worried look, but allowed her to escort him past her office. “I thought you were short on time.”
“A few minutes won’t hurt.” She pulled him around a corner and out of view of the receptionist’s area. “This is where the recording studios are located.” She motioned to the right. “Studio One is where they do the Nightly News with Stone…Cauffyn.” She quickly gestured toward the left. “And this is—”
“Let me guess.” He pointed to the number printed on the door. “Could it be Studio Number Two?”
She smiled. “Yes, how clever of you. That’s where they do Live with the…” Her smile froze. “The celebrity talk magazine.” Good God, she’d almost said Undead.
He didn’t seem to notice. He was trying to peek through the window, but the blinds were closed. “It looks dark in there.”
“Those shows are done for the night. The last soap for the evening is on right now.” She gestured down a side hall to the back of the building. “Studios Four, Five, and Six are the big sound stages where they do the soap operas.”
Vamps & the City Page 10