He could see the blood drain from her face. “What does he want from me?”

“I suspect Ernesto only wants to know you. As I said, he’s very fond of his family and has been wanting to meet you for some time. It’s only been out of courtesy to me that he has maintained his distance. He knew I wanted you left alone.”

“And the guy who attacked Mano?” she asked quietly.

“He was apprehended after I spoke to Ernesto’s enforcer, Baojia. The vampire is Greek, unknown, and not particularly valuable. He hadn’t caused any trouble in the area but was spotted near the port the night Mano was attacked. They picked him up the next night.”

Her mouth fell open. “So they’ve had him for two and a half weeks? What are they doing to him?”

“Do you care?” He cocked a curious eyebrow at her.

She hesitated, frowning a little. “Not really, I’m just curious.”

Giovanni smirked. “They have him in a very ingenious little place called a dry room. Quite torturous for water vampires. Saps them of their power. It’s a bit like a giant dehumidifying chamber.”

“I don’t want to picture that after two and a half weeks.”

He shook his head. “It won’t be pretty, but he should be miserable enough to give up any information about Lorenzo if he has it.”

“Do you have any doubt about it being Lorenzo?”

He paused. “No.”

Beatrice nodded. “So that must mean he still hasn’t found my dad, right?”

“If you are still a target for him, then probably not. You did steal most of his money, though. That had to be irritating.”

“And lucrative,” she muttered. His only response was a snort. “And then what? After you interrogate this guy, what then?”

Giovanni watched her carefully. “I will kill him.”

Her dark eyes seemed to lighten, her mouth a thin line. “Good.”

“So, will you meet with Don Ernesto Alvarez tomorrow after work?”

“Sure. I’ll come here and we can take your car. What about Ben?”

“The fewer people who know about Ben, the better. I’ll see if Kirby and Dez can watch him. He seems to be fond of blondes.”

Beatrice shook her head. “That kid is fond of females. Doesn’t seem to matter what kind.”

“He’ll learn to be choosy in time. It only took me five hundred years to find the one I really want.”

She blushed and tried to hide her smile. Giovanni was trying to keep the innuendo to a minimum, but he wasn’t a saint. He knew she was grieving her relationship with Mano and blamed herself for the human’s pain, but he also knew she would eventually see the wisdom of not dwelling in the past.

He’d had enough of the past; he wanted her future.

“Okay, I’ll call Dez in the morning and then head over here after work. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help. Then we can go over and talk to this Ernesto.”

“He’ll expect you to treat him like family, just so you know. He already knows all about you and considers you a granddaughter. He’s quite proud of you.”

Beatrice made a face and Giovanni chuckled. “I’m not going to lie,” she said, laughing along. “That’s kind of weird.”

“And he’ll probably try to persuade you to let him sire you.”

She fumbled the knife. “What?”

Giovanni smiled. “He won’t force the issue, far from it, he fears me too much, but he can be very persuasive. He loves having a large family and he particularly likes having human descendants in it. It’s a peculiarity of his, but not an obsessive one.”

Beatrice took a deep breath. “Okay, as long as he’s not going to try to force me or anything.”

“No, I’ll be in his home with you. No one would dare.”

“It’s a date then.”

He propped his elbows on the counter and watched her warm the tortillas, one by one, in the flame from the stove. “Maybe we should try the theater next time. Might be less stressful.”

Beatrice looked over at him, glanced at his hands and held up another tortilla with a pair of tongs. “Little help here?”

He grinned, snapped his fingers, and let the warm flames fill his hands as he helped her finish preparing the meal.

“Ben wants to know if I can take him to that movie with the blue aliens.”

“That movie looks horrible.”

She shrugged and folded the tortillas in a clean dishtowel to keep them warm. “He’s twelve.”

“Remind me to make him read some Jules Verne.”

She grinned and nodded toward the door. “You’re such a snob. Can you call him in to set the table?”

Giovanni turned his head toward the door and yelled, “Benjamin! Come inside and set the table!”

She gave him a disgusted look.

“What? He heard me.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Boys. Five hundred or twelve. Mortal or immortal. Still kind of the same…”

He grinned, pleased beyond measure to have her in his kitchen, in his home, in his life. Giovanni couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have her living with him, working with him, and helping him raise Ben.

Loving him.

His feelings must have spilled out of his eyes as he watched her take the food to the table, because she glanced over at him and quickly looked away. He stood, walked into the kitchen, and took the plate of food from her.