LachLan

by D

  “Princess,” he replied smoothly. She sucked in an irritated breath, which amused the hell out of him. “Any news for me?” he asked blandly.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. We should meet.”

  “I agree. But tell me what the news is first.”

  “Raphael has invited you to Malibu. Which I’m sure you expected,” she added tartly.

  That made his grin widen. He did love getting on her nerves, though he didn’t stop to wonder why.

  “There are conditions,” she said.

  His grin faded. “What are they?”

  “You have to come alone, without your cousins or other vampires. And . . .” She paused. “He insists that I come with you.”

  Lachlan digested that last bit of news, trying to decide if he trusted her enough to accept her word on this. The demand for her presence seemed random. Why would Raphael want her there? Hell, maybe the two women had conjured up this supposed requirement so they could visit. He dismissed that thought almost as soon as he had it. Both women were wealthy enough that they could travel anywhere they pleased. Julia hardly needed to hitch a ride with him to visit California. Besides, she didn’t sound any happier about it than he was.

  “Why do you think that is?” he asked, truly curious about her response. It might tell him more than she knew.

  She sighed. “I suspect it has to do with my job. Which is why we need to meet. There are things you need to know.”

  Now, that surprised Lachlan. He’d been all ready to turn the screws and demand she tell him the truth, but now it seemed she’d beat him to it. He was almost disappointed.

  “All right. Let’s meet. Your place or mine?”

  “I was thinking someplace else, like a restaurant or a bar.”

  “Don’t trust me, princess?”

  “Stop—” She exhaled a sharp breath, before continuing in her usual cool voice. “You’re right. It’s probably better if we keep this private. Let’s make it my place, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. See you in an hour.” He disconnected before she could respond, figuring she’d try to change the time to regain control. But he wasn’t a man who let others control him. Not when it came to meetings, and sure as hell not in bed.

  He frowned. He was having an awful lot of sex-themed thoughts about Julia Harper this evening. He considered the possibility. She’d be a challenge, but he was always up for one of those. Ha ha. He was still smiling as he stepped under the shower’s pounding spray.

  JULIA STARED AT her cell phone, wishing she could slam it down properly. Older phones were far more satisfying when it came to hanging up on people. But the bastard hadn’t even given her that much. He’d hung up on her. And that after announcing he’d arrive in an hour. This was her apartment. Shouldn’t she be the one to set the time? What if she’d had another engagement? What if she wasn’t ready to entertain anyone in an hour, much less a fucking vampire?

  “And if he calls me ‘princess’ one more time, I’m going to stake him,” she muttered, then cocked her head, thinking she should check with Cyn about that. She’d done some research about what it took to kill a vampire, because she fully intended to see Erskine Ross brought to dust by her own hand. What she’d found indicated the idea of a stake was pure myth, that a gun would do the job just as well, though it might be a tad less satisfying. Still, Cyn would have insider knowledge, so maybe it was good luck that Raphael had insisted on her presence. It would give her a chance to pick Cyn’s brain before she undertook the dangerous hunt for Erskine Ross.

  She crossed to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and reached for the pull to shut out the night. She studied the street far below, her gaze traveling over the surrounding buildings, and the river in the distance. Her eyes caught for a moment, not by the London skyline, but at a reflection of the rumpled bed behind her. Her first thought was that she needed to make it before Lachlan arrived, but she shook her head defiantly. No way he was going to see her bedroom. She might need him to fulfill the promise she’d made to herself over Masoud’s grave, but she didn’t need him. The memory of Lachlan landing a four-story leap to fight off the kidnappers played in her brain, but she forced it away. Who cared if he was strong and brave and . . . whatever the fuck else he was. He still wasn’t going to see her bedroom. Not tonight.

  She sighed as she headed for the bathroom and a hot shower. Hell, maybe she should make it a cold shower instead. But no, he’d made a point of telling her about vampires’ enhanced senses when they’d first met in the bar. She wouldn’t want to offend his highness with the scent of her nightmares.

  LACHLAN STRODE through the lobby of Julia’s building, not pausing on his way to the elevators. “Evening, Mick, Gerald,” he said with just the right note of friendliness. Pleasant, but not too familiar. He was good at judging social niceties among humans—another benefit of his telepathic abilities. It didn’t hurt that he’d dressed for the evening, looking every bit the professional gentleman in a dark gray suit and white shirt, his deep red tie bearing the faintest trace of the McRae tartan.

  The two men acknowledged him with similar greetings, calling him by name. A second guard, just entering through a door behind the front desk, gave him a careful scan. Lachlan could have greeted him by name, too—having read it in Mick’s mental response to the guard’s entrance—but that would have freaked out the three men, and he didn’t want to take the time to smooth over their thoughts. So he settled for a friendly nod, figuring since the other two obviously knew him, the new guy wouldn’t question it.

  He was right, of course. He cruised over to the elevator, which Gerald already had keyed in and opened for him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Should I let Ms. Harper know you’re on your way up?” Mickey called.

  Lachlan paused in the open elevator door. “No need. I called her from the car. She’s expecting me.” Figuring that might be against the building’s rules, he added a small push of power to make sure the man didn’t make the call. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, except that it would probably throw Julia off her stride when he showed up at her door unannounced. And he’d decided she needed more spontaneity in her life, whether she wanted it or not.

  The elevator didn’t stop on its way to the penthouse floor, and the silence that greeted him on arrival was just as hushed as it had been the night before. The neighboring apartment was still empty of life, and Julia’s wasn’t much better. A human observer would probably judge both residences to be empty. There was a coldness to the entire level, as if no one had lived there for a very long time.

  But then, he wasn’t human. To his senses, Julia’s presence was a warm spark in the otherwise elegant austerity of the penthouse atmosphere. He walked to her door with vampire stealth and knocked. He still had the life spark that was Julia in his mental sights, and so saw the slight flare of her reaction when he knocked without warning. The click of high heels sounded on the marble floor a moment later, and the door opened.

  She gave him a narrow look. “How’d you get up here?”

  “The elevator,” he said, doing his best innocent impression.

  “Did you jinx Mickey?”

  “Jinx?” he repeated in amusement. “I don’t jinx people, princess.” He pushed forward into the apartment, forcing her to either move back or bodily stop him from entering. He put a steadying hand on her hip when she teetered slightly on her skinny heels. She didn’t brush his hand off, but he could tell she wanted to, as she took a step away instead.

  “I thought you needed an invitation to enter a home?”

  He shrugged. “You invited me in last night. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.”

  “Can I rescind it? Make it a one-time deal?”

  He laughed. “I’m wounded. I thought we were friends.” When she just stared at him, he said, “The answer is ‘no.’ That only happe
ns on TV.”

  “Well, that sucks,” she muttered and turned away, heading for a small sitting area where there was a fire burning. She was wearing another one of those tight skirts, and he admired the round swell of her ass, the sway of her hips, and the elegant curve of her calves above those sky-high heels.

  She turned when she reached the sitting area, giving him a withering glance when she caught him watching. Lachlan hadn’t even bothered to conceal his appreciation. He simply raised his gaze slowly to her face and smiled. “The fire’s nice,” he murmured, walking right up to her again, forcing her to tip her head back to meet his eyes.

  She stared at him for a moment, then drew a quiet breath and said, “Thank you. This room’s too cold without it.”

  He trailed two fingers carefully over the soft skin under her bruised eye, the discoloration barely noticeable beneath expertly applied makeup. “Does it hurt?”

  She slanted her gaze to the side, as if embarrassed. “A little, but I heal quickly.” With that, she turned away, walking past a small sofa to sit on one of the chairs, gesturing for him to sit wherever he wanted. Lachlan took the sofa, sitting on the end closest to her, while draping his arm over the back, claiming the entire space for himself.

  “Would you like wine?” she asked, indicating the bottle and two glasses on the small table between them. One glass was already half-full, with a slight lipstick smudge on the rim.

  “No, thank you,” he said politely. His gaze drifted to the pulse of her blood visible beneath the open neckline of the cashmere cardigan she was wearing instead of a blouse. She must have caught the shift in his attention, because she twitched the opening of the sweater, as if trying to cover her neck. It didn’t matter. She could have been wearing a turtleneck up to her chin, and he’d still have known exactly where the plump vein was located.

  He looked up and caught her staring at him. Their gazes met and held, and in that moment, Lachlan knew he wanted this woman. And he was a man accustomed to getting what, and whom, he wanted.

  JULIA’S BREATH caught when her eyes met Lachlan’s. A heavy fringe of black eyelashes made his pretty hazel eyes seem darker than they were. There was none of the otherworldly glow she’d read about in descriptions of powerful vampires. But there was a power that defied common perception. She couldn’t have said how, but somehow, she knew that if she touched his skin, she’d feel it simmering just beneath the surface. Just as she had earlier, when he’d been walking behind her and she’d sensed his perusal like a wave of heat traveling over her body. He’d done that from the very beginning, studying her, not saying a word, just waiting. But waiting for what?

  She lifted her glass and took a sip of wine, breaking the eye-fucking going on between them and wetting her dry throat enough that she could speak. “We should finalize the details for California first, so I can make arrangements. I’ve already made inquiries about the jet’s availability and I think it will work for us. But I’m not sure—”

  “What jet?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. I discussed this with Cyn earlier. She said vampires don’t like crossing time zones, given all the problems with daylight arrivals and such, which rules out commercial flights. My dad has a jet, which he lets me use whenever he doesn’t need it, and depending where it’s based at the time. So I thought we could fly that way.”

  His mouth curved the tiniest bit into a crooked smile. “Aye. And will you be the sexy flight attendant, then?”

  Julia was tempted to toss the wine in his face, but she’d only have to clean up the mess. And besides, she didn’t believe for one minute he was really that uncultured. Oh, sure, one could argue he’d been born in a time when women were little more than property to be traded between clans and families like cows. But Lachlan didn’t fool her. He was educated and very in tune with the modern world. He had to be if he was seriously considering the takeover of all Scotland’s vampires. So she only smiled back at him. “The plane comes with a professional attendant. Usually a man,” she added, though it wasn’t true.

  His expression shifted, going from teasing to serious in an instant. “Not on this flight. There’ll be no one in the cabin but you and me.”

  She frowned, genuinely confused. “Why?”

  “You said it yourself. We’ll be flying through daylight at some point, which means I’ll be out of it. I can’t have strangers poking around.”

  “But the pilots—”

  “Will be busy flying the plane, one hopes.”

  Julia sucked her lips into a flat line as she studied him, and saw him smile.

  “Don’t do that,” he said quietly.

  “Do what?”

  “Your mouth’s too pretty to suck your lips like that.”

  Her breath caught again. He liked her mouth? She barely stopped herself from immediately pushing her lips back out. “We were talking about the plane,” she said sternly.

  Lachlan’s smile grew. “Aye. And we’ll need no flight attendant. I’ll get my own drinks. When do we leave?”

  Julia’s heart was racing. She hated this part of meeting a new guy. The uncertainty, the ‘does he/doesn’t he’ stupidity. And Lachlan wasn’t even a new guy, not in that sense. Yes, he was male and new. But he was a business associate, not a guy. He was also a vampire who could hear her heart racing. She tried to slow her body’s response. The last thing he needed was any ego stroking on her part.

  “We’re in luck, actually,” she said lightly. “I got an email from my dad overnight. He always lets me know when he’s traveling. He left DC for Paris a few hours ago. Once he arrives, the jet will be sitting idle in France for a week or two, waiting for him. But I thought I should wait to call him until I spoke with you. Just in case.” She sipped her wine. “When would you want to leave?”

  “The sooner the better. Did Raphael specify a date?”

  “No. I’ll check with Cyn to be sure, but I got the impression he’d make time whenever we could get there.”

  “Okay, then. Tomorrow night.”

  Julia winced. “Tomorrow?”

  “Problem?”

  “No, no. I just hate jet lag.”

  Lachlan snorted. “Don’t we all? Unfortunately, delaying won’t make it any better.”

  “I know,” she said with a resigned sigh. “Okay. I’ll talk to my dad, get the jet over here for tomorrow night. The pilots probably won’t mind. They get bored sometimes, just hanging around.”

  “They get bored in Paris?”

  “Yeah, well. It’s not the first time they’ve been there, and they have families back home.”

  “Let me know when it’s confirmed, then.” He shifted to scoot forward, elbows on his knees, his big body suddenly much closer as he met her gaze. “Now, what else do you need to tell me, Julia Harper?”

  FOR THE FIRST time since he’d arrived that night, Julia avoided looking at him. She took a long drink of wine, as if she needed the liquid courage, then leaned back in her chair before glancing up, and away again.

  “Okay,” she said. “Hear me out, all right? Don’t jump to conclusions and don’t interrupt.”

  Lachlan’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s a lot of assumptions on your part, princess.”

  Her head shot up, her expression narrowed in irritation. “Maybe I’m getting to know you better.”

  He sat back and assumed a deliberately relaxed posture, ankle crossed over the opposite knee. “No promises, but I’ll try to be good.”

  She shook her head with an exasperated noise, then took another sip of wine and began her story. “I told you I want Erskine dead, but I didn’t tell you why. Honestly, I wasn’t planning to tell you at all. When I asked Cat about meeting you, I only thought to get information, nothing else.” She started to say more, but then turned to stare out the apartment’s wall of glass, as if thinking of what to say next.

 
“And I didn’t expect to find anyone but my wee cousin,” he said, encouraging her to continue. “She forgot to mention you’d be there.”

  Julia seemed surprised at that. “Oh.” She scowled, though whether it was meant for Cat’s machinations, or because it changed whatever she’d planned to tell him, he didn’t know. Finally, after what seemed like an internal debate on her part, she shrugged and said, “I guess . . . . Well, I’m not sure how much you know about my dad, so I’ll start at the beginning. Forgive me if I’m telling you things you’re already aware of.”

  Lachlan waved a dismissive hand. He’d listen to just about anything if it would get her started.

  “Dad sticks closer to home these days, which means the States generally. Mostly the house in New York, but he also . . . Never mind, that’s not important.” She blew out a breath and started over. “When I was younger, he worked for the US State Department . . . . That’s our foreign affairs people, ambassadors and stuff. You know that, right?”

  Lachlan nodded his head and tried not to be insulted. The truth was that a lot of people didn’t understand the various cabinet ministers and departments from country to country.

  Encouraged, she continued. “Well, back then, he was kind of an ambassador at large, going wherever they needed him. He wasn’t a career diplomat or anything, but his family was wealthy, with a wide range of investments, and so,” she shrugged, “he knew people. Depending on which administration was in office, they’d give him a title and he’d go swing some trade deals with his friends. Good for both sides, and yeah, he made money, too. He wasn’t in it for charity. Anyway, that meant my family lived overseas a lot—which is how Cyn and I ended up at that French school together, but that’s not part of this story.

  “Over the years, my dad met up with a lot of friends who had kids my age. One of those was Masoud.” Her lips curved in a private smile. “Later on, he told his friends to call him Max, especially in the US. But he was Masoud when I met him, and that never changed. He was two years older, same as my brother, and just about the handsomest boy I’d ever met.”