Page 80 of Red Masquerade

As I stood, my knees weak from disuse, I wondered what Sinclair was doing—what the other vampires that lived here were doing. When would I meet them? And would they truly not harm me? Sinclair hadn’t ever tried, even if I was suspicious of him. The only one to attack me was the strange man in the garden—andgiven the way Vince had run him off, I didn’t think there was any way he was one of the permanent residents.

“We’ll have to go into the city.” Vince led me to a doorway across the room that opened up to a closet. “But we’ll be discreet.”

Without having to say it, he remembered. He knew I feared Lucas and what he would do if he found me. Before, I don’t think he understood my fear, not until Lucas pointed a gun at him.

I’m inclined to ruin you.

Now, I almost worried more for him than myself—how Lucas would react, knowing Adam was not actually dead. What destruction would come then?

“I don’t have any clothes.” I almost laughed, glancing at the simple silk slip that had remained discarded on the floor.

Vince grinned over his shoulder. “You do,” he said, pulling open one of the many built-in wardrobes within the massive closet, to reveal dozens of dresses in every fabric and color I could think of. I gasped, coming to stand next to him.

“How?”

“Pick out whatever you like.” A kiss pressed to my shoulder before he wandered to other shelves, shirts folded with crisp lines, whole racks of shoes at the floor. Suit jackets hanging neatly in a line. “I may have acquired some clothes for you. Just in case.”

Just in case.

He had always expected to find me. He was waiting for me. Making a place for me in this house, in his room, were I ever to choose him.

I pulled a cream-colored number from the lineup. Lace sleeves, a satin skirt, a swooping neckline. And as I pulled it over my head, the expensive fabric falling like water along my flesh, it felt soright, it almost took my breath away. It was exactly my size, snug where it needed to be, the skirt loose around my knees.

“This is my size,” I said, dumbfounded.

Vince turned to me from where he was buttoning his shirt. He grinned again, eyes sweeping over my figure. “I have my ways.”

The driver pulled up to an unassuming building, all dark brick and yellow electric lights. A single doorman by a modest front door. No one else lingered outside, no cars parked along the sidewalk. It was in a seemingly less-trafficked area, even though the sun had just fully set, and the night was just coming to life. I expected to see crowds, but wherever Vince was taking me seemed private.

When the car stopped—the same car in which I couldn’t resist climbing onto Vince’s lap the other night—he exited first and then offered me his hand. The brisk air immediately brought a chill to my skin. I was thankful for the satin gloves Vince had brought out, the wildly luxurious cashmere shawl that wrapped around my shoulders.

As we walked up the steps, the doorman made eye contact with Vince. He was dressed simply, a dark coat and hat, hands stuffed into his pockets, face mostly hidden by the dark. He nodded once, some understanding passing between the two of them, before he held the door open for us without a word.

Within, the warm yellow of the electric lights glowed in the nondescript lobby. An opening to a hall to the right, where stairscould be seen leading up, and a few shut doors to our left. Dark wallpaper, peeling in the corners. The floor was tiled, alternating white and black, with a red runner leading toward the staircase.

It looked nothing like the dinner club I was expecting.

My fingers tightened on Vince’s. “Where are we?”

He just turned to me and raised a finger to his lips. The building was quiet, like the walls sucked up any sound, my voice sounding out of place. Too loud.

We made our way up the stairs, steps muffled by the runner leading us to the next level. And at the top, another choice of two directions. He chose one, pulling me along, knowing where he was going, it seemed.

It was then I began to feel out of my element. What was he dragging me into? And why did I feel, deep inside, that I didn’t want to know what was behind all these doors? The further in we walked, the dimmer the lights seemed to get, and before long, I realized I was almost squinting to make out shapes in the darkest parts of the hall.

Vince stopped before a door that had no indication of what was inside. He ushered me in, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust in the darkness.

“A table for two,” he said to someone I couldn’t see, his grip on my hand secure. There was a muttered response before we were brought to a dining room—and I could only tell it was a dining room because of the candles that were lit on every table, the only source of light, barely strong enough to illuminate the visages of those sitting. I felt eyes on me as we were led to a table in the far corner, though I couldn’t see who stared, who peered out at me from the darkness.

Vince thanked whoever sat us, and pulled out a seat for me, guiding me down.

“I can’t see anything,” I whispered, holding onto the arms of the chair as I sat.

“That’s the point,” Vince chuckled, pushing the chair in and making his way to his own seat. I could only really see him once he was across from me, the flicker of the candle casting shadows across his features.

“You can see fine,” I said, noticing the ease with which he moved around in the space.

“I can.”