Vampire Feud: Book Two of the Candace Marshall Chronicles

CHAPTER ONE

Blood. Red eyes. Fangs. I felt so stupid saying the words aloud.

The detective’s pen hovered midair, not even dipping toward the flip pad he held. Pretty sure he was supposed to be writing these things down.

I nodded at the paper in his hands, silently encouraging him to do his job.

Riiiiiiight… He made some obligatory slashes of ink.

I crossed my arms. I’m not kidding. Some guy with red eyes⁠—

And fangs. His deadpan voice didn’t give away his disbelief. Not at all.

And fangs, I repeated, trying to hurry this agony of a confession along. He was bent over the guy’s neck, drinking his blood just like a real v⁠—

I stumbled over the word. I couldn’t say it. I just couldn’t. It might make it real.

It also might make me sound like a real idiot.

The detective’s voice interrupted the argument I was having with myself. A vampire. Really.

The man’s dry, unbelieving tone ignited my temper.

"Yes, a vampire. Or, well, what looked like a vampire, anyway. He was standing over there—I pointed—right over the body, drinking the victim’s blood⁠—"

You know what a vampire looks like, do you, Miss Marshall?

Not a speck of emotion graced the man’s portly face, but I knew what he was thinking. Miss cray-cray over here thinks she saw a vampire. Lock her up, boys!

It felt like all the air was being crushed out of my lungs as the scene burned in my memory. I wish I didn’t. He was hissing, covered in the man’s blood, and he disappeared the moment we shined our flashlight on him…

My voice trailed off at the look on his face.

He didn’t believe me. At all. And I couldn’t blame him.

But I knew what I saw!

Red and blue lights flashed off the bored yet incredulous officer stuck interviewing me, the crazed witness. He was sketching instead of taking notes. Seriously. Perfect replicas of SpongeBob, Patrick, and Gary covered his page. Instead of my statement.

Which was totally, absolutely, 100% true.

I’d seen a vampire.

As outlandish as that sounded, I wanted somebody to explain what I’d just seen.

Coming off my stint in a zombie movie in which I was completely unaware that the zombies were actors—don’t ask, I have no idea how that got past me—I couldn’t blame the guy for not believing me. But at least the studio had explanations and let me ask questions to my heart’s content.

This dude was having none of that.

I straightened. Was it just me, or was he edging toward the other officers? Was he going to call for backup? Was I going to go to jail? My heart rate spiked, and my eyes darted around the scene.

Police tape. Flashing lights. A gurney with a body. A no-longer-alive body. That had died right before my eyes in that alley right over there.

I shivered.

Where was Gavin?

My gaze landed on him. His detective laughed at something he said and clapped his shoulder. Gavin smiled in response.

Of course he’d get nice cop.

The tall, good-looking, and handsome officer interviewed the only other witness—my date, Gavin Bailey, world’s greatest actor. What he saw in me I’d never know, but I was just the slightest bit smitten.

The Scottish brogue he could turn on at whim didn’t help, either.

Also tall, good-looking, and handsome, with short-cropped dark hair and premature silver at his temples and chiseled features—Gavin was not only gorgeous, but a true gentleman as well. He was constantly being praised for his kindness to fans and coworkers alike.

I may have sighed aloud, but I would admit that to no one.

Nice cop listened intently to Gavin, jotted down brief notes, and had a respectful, interested look on his face.

My own officer, on the other hand, was staring at the duo with a sour expression. Short, pudgy, balding. Envy poured off the detective, directed at his fellow officer.

I was going to make a wild guess here that he hated being the guy’s partner. And was taking that out on me.

I rolled my eyes. Great. How did this always happen to me? It wasn’t my fault this officer had an inferiority complex. I tried to finish my story.

"And, um, well, the moment we shined our flashlight on the dude—the vampire dude, not the dead dude—he up and vanishes. Like, nowhere to be seen. We rushed over, felt for a pulse—on the dead guy, not the vampire. There wasn’t one, obviously, so we called you guys right away. Well, not you guys, you guys. 911. Dispatch. Whatever."

Would I shut up already? I tended to ramble when nervous.

The last time I’d spent so much time with a cop, he’d been overseeing the peaceful transfer of all my worldly goods to a collections agency. Hence why I refused to go into debt. Once was enough. Even though it was my parents’ fault, not mine.

Anyway.

Apparently my thoughts rambled, too.

I cleared my throat. So, um, yes, is there anything else you want to know?

The officer sighed and tore his gaze from the other policeman. He flipped through his notes. Sandy, Mr. Krabs, and Plankton flashed by.

My less-than-friendly detective interrupted my perusal of his notes. Is there anything else you would like to add to your statement?

I blinked. Hadn’t I pretty much just asked that?

I opened my mouth, but the guy was already putting away his notepad. Seriously? My officer wasn’t even looking at me, his gaze now on the dead dude, clearly preferring his empty presence to mine.

What are you going to do about it? I demanded.

His gaze focused on me. Briefly.

I nodded at the still-blank-of-any-relevant-information pages tucked away in his pocket. How are you going to find this guy? What’s your plan?

The first hint of a smile touched his face. We’ve got it under control, ma’am. I assure you.

Sure you do, I grumbled. He couldn’t even take real notes. I was just a little bit salty about that.

He glanced past me, then straightened and snapped his jacket closed. I’ll call you if I have more questions.

He turned and lumbered away.

But… My mouth hung open.

Not sure how he was gonna do that since he hadn’t asked for contact info. Maybe he was leaving that to one of the uniformed officers?

I crossed my arms and grumbled. If I never saw detective what’s-his-name again, it would be too soon.

A hand dropped on my shoulder, and I shrieked and slapped at it. Gavin jerked away and rubbed his ear.

I gasped. What did you do that for? Trying to get me to join him?

I pointed at the still white sheet. I immediately regretted my insensitivity and snatched my hand back.

The humor in Gavin’s eyes dimmed. I still can’t believe that happened, right in front of us. If I would’ve been faster, acted sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him…

His voice trailed off, and I eyed him suspiciously. The remorse seemed real enough, but he wasn’t the world’s greatest actor for nothing.

I started spiraling as questions pelted my mind. So of course they all tumbled free. Without my consent.

Why? What happened? What did they say? Is this another movie trick? Why in the world did your statement take so long? I gasped. "Do they suspect you? Are you going to jail? Am I going to jail? Gavin, I swear to God if this is another movie trick, setup, shenanigan, thing, I will walk out of here so fast…I won’t react to a single, blasted vampire! Your studio won’t make another red cent off me…"

The utter stillness and gaping faces of crime-scene workers slowly penetrated my totally freaked-out self. My detective squinted at me in what could only be suspicion. I flushed and tried to pretend I hadn’t just been losing it for all the world to see.

Mr. Bailey! Might I have another word?

Good cop was back. Dark skin, warm brown eyes, and easy smile, he was far too handsome for this job. He could’ve easily been a movie star himself. I stared up, up, up and wondered how on earth a person got their teeth that brilliant white.

Of course, Gavin said affably, flashing his own movie-star smile.

The nice detective smiled at me, showing off even more of those pearly whites, and ushered Gavin away. I’m sorry, I know I said you could go, but I was wondering…

Their voices dipped too low for me to hear, and I sighed. Looked around. Wondered how such a wonderful night had gone so horribly wrong.

A date. With the Gavin Bailey, only the world’s best, most famous, most devastatingly handsome movie star. The man won awards like he was the only actor in Hollywood. And he’d taken me to the newest play on Broadway. Me! I actually looked gorgeous for once. He looked better, of course. Way better.

And then this.

A dead guy. A vampire lookalike sucking greedily from his neck. Then lots and lots of officers and questions.

I sighed again and leaned against a cop car, wanting nothing more than to leave. But gorgeous Gavin and gorgeous cop settled in like they were enjoying their conversation. Pretty sure that meant we would be here forever.

I fidgeted. Could it possibly be real?

Could they have—? Would Gavin have—? Was this another movie trick?

It had only happened before. I could walk into most stores and find my face silently screaming back at me from a movie poster or a Blu-ray cover. Zombie Takeover. My first and last film. Ever.

They wouldn’t dupe me into another starring role, would they? I hadn’t signed anything legal-ish lately, had I? Surely I wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

I gasped. Had there been a sequel clause in the contract?

I groaned and rubbed my hands down my face, stretching my skin to garish proportions. I could probably say Boo! right now and scare small children.

But if this was another setup…

No. I refused to believe it. Gavin would never, ever trick me to star in a vampire movie. He’d promised.

The lovely—lots of sarcasm right there—zombie movie may have debuted months ago, it may have met with raving success and bolstered my emergency fund to epic proportions, but he would never…

Or I’d kill him.

CHAPTER TWO

I yawned and glanced up in time to see Gavin end his conversation with a firm handshake. He made his way to me, taking time to shake a few more officers’ hands.

He was nice and famous like that.

I just wanted to bark at everyone like a yappy terrier to leave us alone if they weren’t going to believe a word we said. Or rather, what I said.

I tilted my head. What had Gavin told them? His officer didn’t look like he was going to fall over laughing, or like he was getting ready to lock Gavin in the loony bin.

Gavin’s eyes held concern when they met mine. You okay?

I nodded and rubbed my bare arms, gooseflesh prickling my skin. That bloody body would be etched in my memory for a lifetime.

Gavin wrapped me in his arms, and I sighed and leaned against him.

Move along, folks, a voice barked. This is a murder investigation.

I turned and came face-to-face with Mr. Surly Detective Dude.

He glowered at me, then glanced at Gavin. Please.

At least the man was taking a stab at civility.

Gavin dropped his hand to my lower back and guided me through the maze of police cars and under yellow tape, far away from any snooping reporters.

What did your officer say? It came out way poutier than I intended, but hey, blame it on Mr. Surly. Or not being believed. Or my perfect night being ruined.

Or all three.

Gavin tucked my freezing-cold hand into his warm one and waved down a taxi before answering in a low voice. Said we’d most likely stumbled upon the murderer, or perhaps someone trying to resuscitate the victim, and we scared him off.

I snorted. Right.

With a puzzled look, Gavin helped me into the taxi. He gave his address to the cabbie—well, an address close by—before pulling me close and dropping his voice to make sure our private conversation stayed, well, private. You really think what we saw was real?

I glared at him. You don’t? You were there, Gavin.

Whoa, hold on there, lassie, I’m not that officer. Apparently his Scottish brogue was coming out to play.

I was so here for it.

I tried not to melt into goo, but it had a devastating effect on me, every time. I was pretty much helpless against it.

I scrubbed at my face and took several deep breaths. You’re right. You’re not. And for that, I’m both grateful and sorry. I peeked at him from between my fingers. Forgive me?

He tugged my hands away and kissed my nose. Always.

I gave him a shaky smile.

Streetlights flashed like strobe lights in the dark interior of the grungy cab, and I turned to watch the nightlife of New York City fly by.

What do you think happened? I asked, still staring out my window.

Honestly? I’m calling the studio tomorrow.

My head whipped around, eyes wide. "You think they did this?" I said with way too much volume, forgetting our too quiet audience.

Gavin glanced at the driver, who was staring intently in his rearview mirror at us, not the road. Our turn’s the next one.

The driver slammed on his brakes and pulled in front of two oncoming cars as he screeched around the corner.

We slid from one side of the cab to the other. I put on my seatbelt.

Gavin winced and removed my fingernails from his tux-clad leg.

Sorry, I mumbled. Seriously, Gavin, you think they did this?

Gavin! Gavin Bailey! boomed the cabbie, whipping around to look my date full in the face. "I knew it. I knew you looked familiar! I loved your movie, Living Days. How do they come up with stuff like that nowadays? Pure garbage. But sure does beat a night of listening to the missus’s yammering, am I right?"

He turned back to the stopped traffic we’d only by God’s great mercy and miracles not plowed into.

Just wait’ll I tell the guys who’s in my cab tonight.

He dug out his phone, and the screen lit up. He wrenched the steering wheel and drove down a length of wide-open sidewalk to get past the jam. Horns blared, and he stuck his hand out the window with a rude gesture, the other still furiously tapping away on his phone while barely holding on to the steering wheel with a few spare fingers.

I thought I’d gotten used to New York City driving.

Nope.

Though someone actually driving down the sidewalk was new.

To be fair, it was more of a loading area, but there was a curb, and people were walking on it. It counted.

Watch the road! I yelled, unable to look away. My fingers may have been clawing Gavin’s leg again.

The driver slammed on the brakes, and I clung to the seat in front of me just in time to keep from faceplanting.

Don’t get your panties in a twist, lady. Here y’are, safe and sound.

He dangled his hands over the seat, turning conversational with Gavin. I wished we’d gotten a cab with those prison-like divider thingies.

If I was you, I’d trade her in for a dame a little less uptight, if you know what I mean. Believe me, I know from personal experience.

I gasped, and he leered at me.

Not bad to look at, I’ll give you that.

Gavin gave the guy a tight smile, paid him—tip much lower than normal, I couldn’t help but notice—and ushered me out of the car.

I marched up to the sidewalk, fuming, wondering if this night could get any worse.

Hey!

We both turned back to the cabbie—Gavin tense, and me? Ready to snap.

You need me to wait for ya?

Absolutely not. Gavin wrapped his arm around my waist and ushered me around the corner and into his apartment building, though dragging me away totally applied. Next time I’m calling my driver, he muttered.

I knew he wouldn’t. Gavin had given the guy the night off, and he didn’t go back on his word. Gavin was pretty much the nicest guy ever.

How did I end up with him again?

And now I felt like crying. Great. Stress and I did not mix well together.

His flat was near the top of the towering structure, and stepping into the elevator was like stepping into a compression chamber, with sound and light dampened, plush carpet soothing aching feet, and music that was actually relaxing.

I kinda was in love with his building.

Built in an old-world style, everything was repurposed wood gray with age, and decorations were simple and made to look effortless, all with the intent of making you relax, take a deep breath, and feel like you’d come home.

I could totally see why Gavin had chosen this place.

That and it was secure and he didn’t have to worry about neighbors.

Like mine. Whom I’d happily trade in for just about anyone else.

Anyway.

We reached Gavin’s floor while I was lost in my thoughts, and I jumped when his hand touched my lower back as he ushered me off the elevator.

Gavin unlocked his door, and we didn’t say a word to each other until we were safely in his apartment.

We’d planned to come back here, change, and watch a movie with snacks, but the police questioning had shaved hours off our time together.

I tried not to be resentful of that, I really did, but come on.

We only had one day off a week together, and both our jobs were not respectful of that fact. And although our normal shared day off was Monday, we’d both taken Sunday off this week to watch church together and then to catch my first Broadway play ever.

It had been awesome. Until it had not.

We both changed out of our Broadway finery—me in the guest room exchanging my shimmering princess dress for a tank top and comfy pajama pants I’d left at his apartment for this evening specifically, and Gavin from his tux into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

How did he make normal clothes look so good? It wasn’t even a little fair.

But I most definitely was enjoying the view.

I laid my hoodie across the back of the couch for when I inevitably turned instantly freezing later, for no reason whatsoever, and then hung up my Broadway finery on a hook by the door for whenever I left tonight.

I glanced at the clock. Though it was technically morning now.

Gavin moved into the kitchen, and I started casually rummaging through plants and moving mirrors.

There aren’t any cameras in there, love.

Oh. Um, yeah, I know. Just…fluffing the plants, and, uh, cleaning the mirrors…

He quirked an eyebrow at me as he pulled two ice-cold root beers from the fridge. I didn’t often drink soda in my never-ending quest for a healthier me, but tonight definitely screamed for a few. Maybe five.

You were cleaning my mirrors without cleaner? Or a rag?

I crossed my arms. Wait a minute. If the cameras aren’t there, then where are they?

The gourmet sodas clinked on the granite-topped island as Gavin left them sweating beads of water on the countertop and made his way toward me.

I backed up a step.

Candace, I swear to you, as far as I know, this has nothing to do with a movie. And if it were, I wouldn’t let them put cameras in my apartment.

I swallowed back tears, but they still made my throat sound thick and clogged and weepy. How do I know I can trust you?

He wrapped two warm, heavy hands around the back of my neck, fanning his fingers into my hair. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against mine and let out a resigned puff of air. He waited a moment before speaking. His voice sounded weary, sad.

Candace, I would give anything to take back what I did to you for that movie. I gave you my word that I won’t do anything like it again, and I meant it. Not for all the money, fame, or connections in the world. You mean more to me than any of that. I treasure you, lass, and I am so sorry for my part in it.

I know, I whispered. Me too.

That was me. Miss Eloquent.

He gently kissed my forehead, then tugged me into his broad arms. I nestled into his firm chest and took a deep breath. The man’s cologne could turn me to mush in the middle of any argument. I think he knew that and wore it on purpose to win every fight.

Not that we fought often.

But Gavin? I’m still scared. If it wasn’t a movie, then that means a person really died. And if it is a movie, well, I can’t go through that again. I pulled back. Do you think a different studio is trying to trick me this time?

Candace. Gavin gently pushed me down on his white suede sofa, then sat on the rich black coffee table across from me, our knees touching. You saw the body yourself when they asked you to identify him.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around my middle. That was an image I wanted to block for the rest of my life.

Dan assured me it really was a dead body, killed around the time we found him. No tricks, no gimmicks, no movie props involved. If it were a studio, I’d like to see them try to win that lawsuit.

Dan?

Dan Lawson. The detective who interviewed me?

Oh. Right. Leaning forward, I sighed and rested my forehead on his shoulder. I’m so confused. I don’t want it to be a movie, but I don’t want anyone to have died either.

I know, lass, I know.

He scooted next to me on the couch, and we sank into the plush folds together, my head nestled in the crook of his arm. After a moment of sheer, blissful cuddling, my stomach gave an angry growl.

Gavin chuckled. You hungry?

Hate to say it, but amazing as the food was, those measly portions aren’t enough to feed a toad.

Gavin shook his head sorrowfully. And to think I’m dating someone so uncultured.

I faux-punched him in the stomach. He flexed, and my fist met solid muscle.

Ow! Hey, now. Watch it, buddy, or you’ll get worse than that.

Gavin groaned and clutched his stomach, gliding smoothly off the couch and offering me his hand. I don’t think I can handle any more. Truce?

Laughing, I took his outstretched hand. Okay. But only because you asked so nicely.

He pulled me off the couch and into him, giving me a sweet, heady kiss. Sandwich?

I gasped in mock horror. You kiss me and all you can think of is food?

I lunged for the nearest pillow. He shoved me before I could slam it into his head, and I sprawled on the couch. He used the pillow to pin me down, then tickled me mercilessly. I shrieked, giggled, laughed, howled…then snorted.

Satisfied that he’d humiliated me enough, he got up and sauntered toward the kitchen. How about that sandwich?

His smug grin did all kinds of things to my stomach that had me wondering why we were even talking about food and he wasn’t over here kissing me senseless.

I sat up, half my hair standing on end. Yes dear, but do include the caviar and anchovies, just how I like it. I added in a snooty tone, You know how picky I am about that. Must be culinary perfection!

Aye, my bonnie lass.

I tried not to get derailed by the low timbre of his accented voice. I was so here for the Scottish brogue. Good. I’m off to powder my nose!

I rose as gracefully as I could and pranced toward his luxurious bathroom. Pausing in front of a monstrous picture frame, I glanced behind me. Gavin had his back to me, assembling sandwiches that actually did border on culinary art.

I adjusted the frame, pulling it forward slightly and peeking behind it.

There’s not a camera back there either.

My hand dropped as I mock-yelled, Well, just…fine then! See if I straighten your pictures ever again.

Gavin’s chuckle floated after me as I headed for the bathroom.

I surveyed the girl in the mirror and wished for the hundredth time that she was prettier. More composed. More suave.

But I was just me.

Cute-ish, klutzy-ish, and a whole lot of crazy.

I tried to tame my reddish-brown hair. It had begun to frizz the moment humidity had dared touch it, and now it was rising from its sleek locks to halo around my head like a wild lion’s mane. I sighed. This was a battle I fought daily.

Rich brown eyes stood out from a creamy-pale face. What can I say? Tanning was not an option in autumn-infested New York, not with my crazy work schedule, and not with clothing covering me from head to toe.

I was still getting used to frigid temps instead of balmy California weather or muggy Florida air or sweltering New Mexico desert temps.

But when I tanned, I turned a warm chestnut brown, and I missed the look. It was way better than this pale, frizzy, overtired blob.

I ran my fingers through my hair, enjoying the last vestiges of my styled hair I’d straightened before the Broadway play. Working at a prestigious fashion company had taught me hair and makeup lessons I’d cared nothing about before. Now I had reason to care. And that reason was Gavin Bailey.

Oh, yeah, and my job. Couldn’t forget that little detail.

I leaned against the frosty marble vanity with cream snaking through its veins.

A part of me was so sick from what had happened tonight. Gavin and I had left our Broadway play to find blood all over his car—and what appeared to be a vampire sucking greedily from its victim’s neck in an alleyway close by.

After spending a couple of weeks on the world’s largest movie set while I thought a zombie infestation had killed everyone I knew and loved, I was understandably wary about the whole vampire thing. Except, the officers who took our statements onsite seemed real enough. And they’d said vampires were impossible.

As much as I completely agreed, I knew what I’d seen. And being belittled or shrugged off by anyone was enough to make me want to look further into the matter.

Which was, of course, exactly what those stupid movie people wanted me to do.

I bit my lip. Unless…it wasn’t a studio…

I threw some water on my face and dried it, frowning at the smeared makeup on the towel. Oops.

I searched for makeup wipes in my bag. Guess I was done with the cloying stuff anyway.

As I set to work un-makeup-ing my face, my internal debate team continued to score points on either side of the argument.

I wanted to believe Gavin, I really did, but how could I? Especially after last time. Maybe I’d just have to look into it. Just a little. Make sure it wasn’t another setup.

And find justice for that poor victim.

Unless he was in on it and popped up and went on his merry way after pretending to be dead. Then I was going to strangle him.

My hands stilled. But if I did any of this, I would be walking into exactly the kind of situation they wanted me to.

What was that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

I dropped my makeup-free face in my hands and groaned. What was the right thing to do here?

The doorbell rang, and I jumped and hurried to finish.

I opened the door in time to see Gavin signing for a late-night delivery. I smirked. Only in New York City, right? He tossed the packet on the stand by the door and went back into the kitchen.

Probably the revised portion of his script he’d been telling me about at some time or other.

I really should try harder to keep all the stuff he told me about his movie-star life straight.

But even if I didn’t want to forget something, all I had to do was see something shiny, and poof! Memory fled my brain like rats from a sinking ship.

It was awesome. (As in, not.)

I eased out of the bathroom and padded into the open kitchen in Gavin’s spacious two-bedroom apartment. My mouth watered as Gavin gave me an innocent grin and slid my sandwich over to me.

Oh my goodness, thank you. I think I live for your sandwiches… I lifted it to my mouth and, thankfully, took a deep breath. Nasty, sour fish smell and something pickled and other grossness met my nose with a vengeance. What the⁠—?

I slammed the sandwich onto the plate and ripped off the bread. Little pickled dead fish and black seedy globs of goo met my gaze and stung my nose. My eyes sought Gavin’s. His face was calm, far too innocent looking.

That should’ve tipped me off in the first place.

What is this? I demanded.

Exactly what you ordered, my lady. Care for a pickle to go with it? He brandished a green spear in my direction, further pickling the air.

Ugh, no way! That is so nasty! You know I was just joking, right? I eyed him, the glint in his eyes betraying his otherwise expressionless face. No, no, no. You get the nasty, gnarly sandwich, and I get this.

I reached for his plate, but he held it out of reach. I sat back, dejected. Eyed the gloop on my plate. I was starving, but no way could I choke that down.

Gavin rounded the island and made a noise in his throat that people reserve for kittens or babies or something too pathetic for words. Like me.

I’m sorry, lass, but you’re just so darn bonnie I couldn’t resist. He brushed his knuckles across my jaw.

I rolled my eyes and huffed. Thanks a lot.

He chuckled and rounded the island once more, lifting a new plate with a different sandwich from where he’d hidden it. Here’s yours.

For real this time? I lifted the bread and suspiciously sifted through its layers. It looked normal. I sniffed it to be sure.

Gavin laughed. I promise! That one is perfectly safe.

If you say so, I muttered and risked a bite.

Flavors exploded on my tongue, and I moaned.

What can I say? Sandwiches are my love language.

Gavin smiled and crossed his arms. That good, huh?

I nodded and kept stuffing my face, then licked my fingers after every last crumb was gone.

Gavin waited until I’d finished to settle beside me. Not that he had to wait long. I pretty much inhaled the thing.

Glad you enjoyed it.

Mm. Words were not an option at the moment. How could he make a sandwich of all things taste like it deserved a Michelin Star?

He bit into his and closed his eyes briefly in appreciation.

He didn’t finish his sandwich nearly as quickly as I did, but soon we were eyeing the clock, then each other, clearly thinking the same thing.

It didn’t matter that it was past two in the morning. Neither of us felt like sleeping.

Movie? Gavin asked at the same time I asked, Uno?

He smiled as I laughed. Your idea was better. Definitely, I said.

He put something mindless on while I wrapped myself in my hoodie, and I settled next to him on his plush sofa and cuddled close.

It only took a few seconds for me to start nodding off as food rested warm and satisfying in my belly and the peaceful atmosphere in the apartment took its toll.

Gavin shifted so I’d be more comfortable. Why don’t you lie down in the guest bedroom?

Mm-hmm. I didn’t move.

He chuckled and pulled me closer.

I was just about gone to the world when his phone started buzzing.

Seriously? At this ungodly hour? It had to be, what, three, four in the morning by now?

I sat up, feeling like a sledgehammer had knocked me partway unconscious, as he smiled apologetically and mumbled, I have to get this.

He was halfway to his room before my brain deciphered all the syllables.

I groaned, faceplanted on the sofa, and covered my head with a pillow. I did not handle being woken up well. I needed to ease into it.

For hours.

And preferably not so early.

Soon he was removing the pillow and kissing me goodbye.

I’m sorry. It was the studio, and I need to go in early for some pick-up shots. Make yourself at home, please. I’ll send a car to take you home in the morning.

I knew he went in early, like at five, when he wasn’t filming at night, but this was ridiculous. I was pretty certain we were both supposed to go in late tomorrow.

I groped for words but ended up just mumbling something unintelligible.

He laughed, and the last thing I remembered before dropping off to sleep was Gavin wrapping me in a blanket and kissing my forehead.

He really was the most amazing man I’d met in my life.

CHAPTER THREE

I stumbled into the office elevator the next day, feeling like a vampire had visited in the middle of the night and drained me of all my blood too.

Or maybe that was the nightmare on repeat the few times I’d dozed?

Unable to stay on Gavin’s couch after the third or fourth time I’d jolted awake from a vampire looming over me, about to attach itself to my neck (thank goodness it wasn’t there when I opened my eyes), I’d finally given up and called a rideshare to take me home.

I’d crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling, willing sleep to find me again, but nuh-uh. Flashing red eyes and dripping blood and sharp fangs invaded my brain, and I started obsessing.

I got up, paced a mile or two into my carpet, then researched vampires on my phone until it felt like my eyes were bleeding. Even though I knew I had to come into work.

I shoved anything that could possibly be important in my notes app, then I went down the rabbit hole of morgues, what autopsies were like, and hundreds of true stories of vampire encounters.

My alarm had let me know in no uncertain terms that I had made a horrible decision choosing to obsess over vamps instead of sleeping so I could be awake for my job.

I stifled a yawn—didn’t work, and my cheeks hurt from the effort—and wished for darker sunglasses.

The elevator pinged at my floor, and I stumbled off, thankful I’d worn flats.

I froze. I had found that matching shoe, right?

I peeked down at my feet, even though I really didn’t want to if I hadn’t. Both burnt orange. Thank goodness.

I sagged against thick textured wallpaper and almost took a nap right there. The elevator pinged behind me, announcing someone else’s arrival. I forced myself away from the only thing keeping me upright and marched toward my office. This was ridiculous! I did accidental overnighters all the time. Why was this one any different?

Because I was drained: emotionally, physically, mentally—yet had been too revved up to sleep. I hoped nothing important was happening today.

I snorted. Since when was every moment at work not treated as life-or-death important?

I rounded the corner and came upon my office. Even now, months later, it still pulled a smile out of me.

Enclosed in glass on three sides, lit with the most brilliant lights on the entire floor, and just a few steps away from the president of the company, my office was the most beautiful working space I’d ever been in.

Well, okay, so it wasn’t that close to the president’s office. You had to make it past her two assistants, a hallway, and a last-defense assistant to get anywhere near her, but I was beyond thrilled to be here.

My assistant, Lola, was already hard at work.

With straight jet-black hair cut just under her jawline, pale crystal eyes, and an exquisite sense of fashion, she fit right in.