“What are you—”

“Are you missing something?” He leaned down and purred in her ear. “Something you know I could give you? Don’t be coy, tesoro.”

Giovanni was frustrated and angry, but he still wanted her.

“Stop it,” she hissed. “Not like this. Not—”

“Not good enough for you? I think you might be surprised. I’ve had a few hundred years to practice—”

“Stop it!” She pushed away from him and walked across the room, standing by her side of the bed. “Why are you being like this?”

He forced down the snarl that wanted to erupt. Because I’ve been the equivalent of a monk for almost six years, and you’re driving me crazy. Especially when you’ve been flirting with another vampire for the better part of the night.

He didn’t say it. Giovanni only frowned and shook his head. Beatrice’s face was pale, and she looked angry and on the verge of crying. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “This…this is a mistake. I’ll find another room.”

Giovanni spun on his heel and walked toward the door but stopped when he heard her heart go wild. He turned to see a hollow look on her face, and she started to shake. He suddenly realized the rash words he had uttered.

“No!” He rushed to her side. “I’m not leaving you. Not like that. I would never…I just meant that I am frustrated tonight, and you’re angry—”

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered as the tears sprang to her eyes. “Don’t. I don’t think I could handle it again. You left me and…”

He grabbed her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Everyone leaves.”

“What?” He frowned and pulled away so he could see her face. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone. Dad left. Grandpa. My own mom never even wanted me.”

Her small voice tore at his heart, and Giovanni finally realized the enormity of his actions five years before.

“And then I left you.” His chest ached when he pulled her against it, pressing her against his heart as if it could heal the wound.

“I don’t want to be left again.”

“I won’t! I’m sorry I even said it. I’m so sorry…” Beatrice looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, and he brushed at the shining tracks that ran down her cheeks. “I am sorry, Beatrice. I am sorry I was so…arrogant. I’m sorry for hurting you when I left.”

She gripped his waist as he held her, sighing before she pressed her cheek to his chest. Finally, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

He stood, rocking them back and forth before they lay down in bed, still in their dress clothes. He didn’t want to release her, even to take off his shoes. Giovanni finally felt her retreat into sleep an hour before dawn took him.

He woke the next night to the clamor of the old phone in their room. He was still wearing his dress shirt and slacks, though his shoes, coat and tie had been removed sometime during the day. He saw Beatrice’s burgundy dress hanging on the back of the chair, but he did not sense her nearby.

He reached over and picked up the phone.

“Is this the Italian?” Tywyll’s creaky voice greeted him on the other end of the line.

“It is. Do you have information for me?”

“I have a question for ye’, fire-starter.”

“What is it?” He rubbed his bleary eyes.

“Do ye’ know where yer woman is?”

Chapter Sixteen

English Chanel

March 2010

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Beatrice chanted, punctuating each utterance with a quick kick to the side of the small room where she had been stashed. The four walls seemed to close in on her with each passing hour. She glanced at the fading light through the porthole.

She guessed that she was on a freighter of some kind, after being snatched from the streets of Mayfair while shopping on Thursday morning. Now it was nearing Thursday evening, from the look of the sun, and she braced herself for her inevitable appointment.

It just figured that the one time she left Gemma and Terry’s house without her guard was the day she would be kidnapped.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

She just couldn’t stand the idea of the rough-looking thug they’d hired to tail her during the day following her to the lingerie shop on Conduit Street.

Beatrice had been shaken by her argument with Giovanni the night before. She’d thought they’d been doing well, and her trust in him had been growing each night they spent together. When his frustration boiled over, she had been unprepared.

Not that she wasn’t frustrated, too.

He was right—she was attracted to him; that had never changed. And it was maddening to sleep next to him every night and morning knowing how he felt about her. Knowing that he wanted her. Knowing that making love to him would be amazing. She’d certainly had a taste of his passion during the infrequent feedings they shared. He never seemed to take much, but just the touch of his lips at her neck sent her shuddering toward release.

But Beatrice had held back, not wanting their physical attraction to overwhelm what she knew was the most important part of their relationship. She still needed to trust him.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she chanted as angry tears gathered in her eyes.

In the dim light of morning, when she’d finally removed her rumpled dress, she forced herself to confront her feelings for the vampire she shared a bed with every night.