“My daughter would love to meet you,” he heard the Frenchman say.
“Oh?”
“She was born during the twenties, my Louise. She absolutely adores the cinema. And anything American, for that matter. She even talks about acting on the screen, but that, of course, is impossible.”
“Is she interested in other aspects of working in film? I’m sure there are a lot of things she could do that wouldn’t be in front of the camera.”
Jean gave a typically Gallic shrug. “She has expressed an interest in costumes; but of course, there is nothing like that in Marseilles. And the vampires in Paris and Lyon...they are not particular friends of mine. No, French cinema is not for my Louise, I’m afraid.”
Giovanni saw the minute Beatrice recognized the opportunity, and he suppressed a smile.
“Has she considered moving?”
“Out of France? My dear Beatrice, where could she go where I would be assured of her welcome and safety? I am very fond of my daughter. She is my youngest child.”
“I wonder…are you familiar with my grandfather, Don Ernesto Alvarez?”
A slow smile spread across the Frenchman’s face. “What are you proposing?”
“You were brilliant.” He shoved the door closed and reached for her, pulling her to his chest and kissing her passionately before he drew her to the chair in the corner of their bedroom.
“That was kind of fun,” she said when he finally let her up for air. She was perched in his lap, and he was running his hands over her waist and kissing her neck, tasting behind her ear as he pulled the tie from her hair.
“I knew you’d be a natural at this.”
“I kind of am, aren’t I? It’s like a big game board. Or a puzzle. You just have to figure out how everyone is connected.”
“Mmmhmm,” he murmured as his lips wandered over her collarbone.
“And you’re sure Ernesto won’t mind?”
“He’ll consider it an honor to introduce the girl to Hollywood if it means Jean’s cooperation on the French coast, I’m sure of it.”
“And you think Jean will help us look for Lorenzo?”
He nodded and ran his fingers through the hair that fell down her back. She hadn’t cut it since they had been reunited, and he wondered if she knew how much he liked the length. “He’s in shipping, smuggling, all the same circles. They were allies of a sort, for a while. If Lorenzo goes to France, he’ll call Jean.”
“Okay then. Yay me.”
He pulled her closer, and his mouth moved along her neck as his fangs ran out. “Yay you, indeed,” he said as his tongue fluttered against her racing pulse.
“Go ahead,” she whispered and pulled him toward her neck, tilting her head as his fangs pierced the skin.
He moaned and pulled as the sweet blood entered his mouth. Giovanni pulled her hip against him, knowing she could feel his arousal.
“Gio,” she whispered. “Wait—”
“Can you feel how much I want you?”
He licked at her neck, sealing the wounds after a few quick drinks that slaked one hunger while feeding another.
She gasped, “Gio—”
“Let me make love to you, Beatrice. I’ve wanted to for so long. I love you. Let me show you.” One hand pressed at the small of her back, while the other stroked over her breasts. Her arms lifted and she clutched at his shoulders.
“I don’t…” She whimpered in pleasure. “Not here.”
“What?” He blinked and pulled away.
“Not in Gemma and Terry’s house. I just…” He saw the blush flood her face and he only imagined it spreading further down her body. “And…it’s too soon.”
He sat back and let his arms drop to the side.
“Too soon? For what? For this? For us?”
“We’ve only been…together for a few weeks now,” she stammered. “I mean, we’ve never even talked about—”
He pushed her off his lap and stood up to pace the room. “What? What do you want to talk about?”
“Well—” she was still blushing. “—us, I guess.”
“I love you.” He crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk. “I’ve made it quite clear what I want, Beatrice. If anyone should have doubts about our relationship, it’s me.”
She stood as her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“You are the one holding back. You’ve held back for months when I know how attracted you are to me. I know how aroused you are right now. Why do you push me away?”
“I told you—”
“You tell me…” He broke off and lowered his voice, which had risen as they argued. “You tell me nothing. I know nothing of your feelings for me because you refuse to tell me anything.”
She stood gaping at him, furious as she struggled for words.
“You—you haven’t even apologized.”
“For what?”
Her face flushed with anger. “If you don’t know, then I’m not going to tell you, you stubborn ass.”
Giovanni walked over and sidled next to her. “You know, you talk a lot about me being an ass: a pretentious ass, a stubborn ass. Seems like you think about my ass a lot, Beatrice.” He yanked her hips to his and pressed their bodies together, pulling her arms around to place them on the ass he’d just mentioned. She trembled, and her breath came in quick pants. He could sense her arousal through her fury.