Take Me (7 page)

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Authors: T.A. Grey

BOOK: Take Me
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A low growl snapped through the room.

Felicity jerked her gaze to Dominic’s just as everyone else in the room did. Had he really just growled? His eyes stared challengingly into hers—daring her to keep his gaze. That the same level of passion she’d witnessed yesterday still flickered there. The light gold around his eyes flared like a pulse and Felicity felt an answering pulse between her thighs. He might have been nasty to her yesterday but he still wanted her. That fact shocked her more than if he had walked up to her and informed her he was leaving his estate and bank accounts to her, then vanish in a puff of mysterious smoke.

Of course that didn’t happen.

But he did look at her like he wanted her naked, in his lap, right now. And boy did she want to be.

Vampire eyes shifted when aroused, but the older the vampire the more control they had to mask such a reaction. Either Dominic wasn’t as old as she’d heard or he’d really just had a flash of arousal blaze in his eyes.

“Ms. Shaw, won’t you please take a seat?” his mother asked with a polite smile and watchful eyes. Her voice cut the tension in the room like a hot knife through warm butter.

Juliana seemed oblivious to the whole deal, while his mother looked far more cunning with her clever golden brown eyes.

Felicity managed to walk to her seat across from the two Blackmoores and the lovely Juliana Greenwich without tripping and falling on her face. Score one for her.

Juliana looked much,
much
more beautiful in person than she did in magazines. Felicity could probably stare at her all day trying to figure out how she could arrest one’s gaze like she did. She had a thin, pert nose with lovely hollowed cheekbones, a gently pointed chin, light brown eyebrows, and a stunning pair of blue eyes. The color was so light it looked like a cloudless sky. Her eyes were lined by heavy dark brown lashes that only brought out the color and provided a lovely contrast to her light blonde hair. And she even had perfectly shaped lips with two peaks on top and a perfect bow on the bottom. Her hair was lush—a beautiful golden yellow like the perfect strand of wheat. It shined in the light and rested in curling waves down to her waist. Yes, down to her waist!

The paparazzi followed her for a reason and not because she had more money than the Monopoly guy, but because of how she looked. She looked perfect, and that was only her face. Her body matched her face in its stunning loveliness. Tall, elegant, refined, and with more class than Jackie-O, Julianna made lovely pictures. Pictures the rest of society without as much money and good looks stared longingly at and pretended to hate.

Really it wasn’t fair to the rest of the women in the world to have to compare to women like Julianna Greenwich. Not fair at all.

In fact, Felicity decided she might just hate her.

“Thank you for joining us tonight. I’m looking forward to hearing about your previous work experience and seeing some of your designs,” his mother said with a smile. She had the kind of polite smile that had been refined through years of having political friends and throwing strategic parties. Felicity suspected Lady Blackmoore was a master at hiding her true feelings.

A moment later, a soft knock sounded at the door and Ian shuffled in carrying a silver tray with a crystal decanter and four glasses. Felicity watched the blood-filled decanter with longing, her tongue watering. She hadn’t fed that morning because she was out of blood again, but she hoped to rectify that problem tonight. She’d get this job, get paid upfront, and buy some of her favorite blood—AB. Lots of it. Maybe she’d even buy crates of it she could stack up in her spare bedroom for safekeeping.

Felicity watched Lady Blackmoore sit at the edge of her seat as she efficiently poured four glasses of blood. She filled each of the glasses so that the blood stopped at exactly a quarter inch from the rim. The entire time Felicity watched Lady Blackmoore’s elegant movements, she could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t need to shift her gaze to know it was him. No one could look at her and make her feel heat from just looking. No one except Dominic Blackmoore.

Lady Blackmoore passed the crystal glasses one at a time and as Felicity took hers, her eyes betrayed her and swept to Dominic. What she saw made her freeze, made her gut clench, and her body respond in a flush of wet heat.

His low-hooded eyes were fixed on her with a burning fire of their own. Only this time it wasn’t in anger. It was pure sex. A look that said he was visually fucking her with his imagination right now. He snagged the glass from his mother, his eyes never leaving hers, and he brought it to his full sexy mouth and drank from it without ever taking his eyes off her.

They might as well be the only ones in the room. The air was so thick it felt like fog covered them. A sensual fragrance filled the air—musky, sweet, and raw. Dominic’s nostrils flared as he inhaled the same fragrance she did. His eyes closed in an expression she could only describe as pained ecstasy before they flung open to devour her.

Felicity jerked her gaze away, a bright red flush coating her cheeks. The blush shamed her even more because she didn’t know whether it was from his look or because his mother shot them both a cowing glance.

Felicity forced herself to pull her gaze away. She was supposed to be torturing him not the other way around and as it stood right now, the memory of this night and the palpable intensity in the room would never be forgotten.

“I’ve heard you have quite the eye for refined, large parties,” Lady Blackmoore said.

Felicity’s eyes wanted so badly to pull back to Dominic. To see what he was thinking and to see if he was still staring at her. A niggling doubt sprung. What if this was all some joke on his part? After all, his
bruid
was sitting in the same room as them. This could all be faked, his way to toy with her after their encounter yesterday.

“Yes, I do. Call it natural talent.” Felicity pulled her résumé out of her portfolio’s case and slid it across the dark mahogany table separating them. Lady Blackmoore took it and began reading. A thin black eyebrow rose in surprise.

“You’ve worked with a quite a few high-list names. I wonder if I’ve attended any of these events. When was the last event you organized?”

Felicity froze, but then quickly forced a smile. Sure she’d been lying on her résumé for nearly a year but she’d never had an interview to discuss those lies. Of course Lady Blackmoore would know some of the high-list names she’d forged on the resume. What if Lady Blackmoore called them and verified that Felicity was nothing but a fraud? Panic grew like a wild weed but before it could take over she shoved it aside with a brutal hand. She leaned forward in her seat, determined to see the lies on her résumé through until she had this job in the bag.

The shawl fell down her arms and she felt heat burning the bare skin at her shoulder. A shiver raced down her arms as she pulled out the sample images from her portfolio and laid those around the table.

She answered by dodging the question. “That’s quite possible, Lady Blackmoore. I assure you I am capable of doing anything you want. All you have to do is tell me the general idea of what you’d like to have. For instance, at this particular event,” Felicity said, pointing to the image in the middle. “I designed everything you see here from the custom art work on the walls to the dancers hired to perform at the beginning of the night.”

The picture was of the beautiful ballroom in Godsfreade manor in Pennsylvania. She’d never actually been there but socialites used the room for major events all the time. It had a beautiful marble staircase that could easily fit twenty people straight across it. The entire room was made out in dark wooden beams etched with hand carved designs of doves and tulips. A glorious golden chandelier lit the room in a spectacular fashion and wall sconces, much dimmer in light, shadowed the walls. The ballroom easily held five hundred people at maximum capacity, and if the backdoors were opened which led to the award-winning Victorian-style gardens, then you could fit close to seven hundred.

In this picture, Felicity had designed round tables where black wooden chairs with a dark violet upholstering could sit up to six people. The tabletops were some of her best work. Atop them were the place settings with real silver dining ware. The name cards were made of heavy linen paper and embossed with heavy violet ink in an elegant cursive script. Wine glasses and water glasses sat behind the plates. Heavy linen napkins were rolled and wrapped in a lilac colored ribbon. A miniature vase with a single light purple lilac sat by each setting and in the center of the table was a large centerpiece of glass and crystal with six tall white candles lit. And below them were a bushel of lilacs and lilacs mixed with daisies.

It was a fantasy wedding, or so Felicity had made up. The colors she’d envisioned were white and lilac, with the deep violet from the chairs, the delicate purple flowers, and the white tablecloth, the colors made one heck of a sight.

If only it was real.

“And whose wedding was this?”

Felicity wracked her mind for a name and came up with the name of her last
real
client from a year ago. She’d been hired by a local barbeque restaurant to throw an annual company party. The man who’d hired her was Spencer Terry.

“The wedding was for Spencer Terry and his wife Terri.”

Lady Blackmoore’s thin eyebrow arched. “They both have the name Terry?”

Shit. Felicity quickly tried to fix her poor lie. “Um, yes actually. His last name is Terry and her face name is Terri but with an ‘i’. Odd, I know.” She laughed a little.

There that sounded good. She smiled again, all professional.

“So her name is now Terry Terri?” Lady Blackmoore said slowly.

Shit
.
I’m so busted!

She was just about to try to dig her way out of this nonsense when she heard a soft giggle.

Julianna Greenwich had the tops of her manicured fingers pressed against her trembling mouth as her shoulders shook. She was trying desperately not to laugh, but more giggles came and, as if she couldn’t hold it in any longer, she tossed her head back and laughed a good old-fashioned laugh that came all the way from her belly. The sound was so infectious Felicity joined in and then Lady Blackmoore’s laughter, and even that sounded polite, followed. Everyone laughed but Dominic.

Felicity looked at him still smiling and his entire body tensed.

Before she could decide what to make of Dominic Blackmoore the door opened swung open. Felicity watched a drop-dead sexy man saunter in with a confident smile and crinkles around his Blackmoore eyes.

“What’s so funny?” the man asked. He headed right into their private party, grabbed the finished drink out of Dominic’s hand then refilled it and tossed it back like he was taking a shot. Then he looked each one of them in the face and took a seat next to Felicity.

Felicity felt another charge in the air and for some reason she scooted a little away from him. The charge diminished, somewhat.

The man had a sexy appeal to him that looked completely natural, not like he did it on purpose. He looked an awful lot like Dominic but had ruggedness to him. Dark stubble covered his jaw and chin and crossed at the top of his lip to give him a sexy beard and moustache that he kept trim to his skin. He wore a white long sleeved shirt that fit him loosely but also hinted at a lean, hard body underneath. With that he wore jeans, a black knit belt and heavy black boots that he promptly lifted and sat on the expensive wood table.

Dominic spoke first. His eyes were leveled on the man, unwelcoming. “This has nothing to do with you, Luc. Just
leave
now.”

Luc. Oh shit. Felicity turned to the man sitting next to her as recognition sunk in. This was Lucas freaking Blackmoore—Dominic’s brother and singer in LBB that Beth told her about.

“I know it doesn’t have anything to do with me. That’s why this is all so fun.” He inclined his head and said, “Mother, Lady Julianna.”

“So good to see you again, Lucas,” Julianna said. She even had a soft pretty voice.

Felicity hated her even more.

“And you too, doll face. So who’s this?” he drawled out and as his gaze leveled on Felicity, she swore she could feel it across every inch of her skin.

Dominic answered. “That’s Ms. Felicity Shaw. Mother’s considering hiring her as the planner for the bonding.” He clearly sounded as if he loathed the idea more than anything.

Felicity straightened in her seat and glared. “And what’s wrong with that? Have you seen the work I’ve done? I’m excellent!” she said.

At once, she felt all eyes fall on her but she was beyond caring. This was between him and her.

Dominic apparently didn’t care either because he sat forward in his chair leaning his arms on his strong thighs as he glared those beautiful eyes at her.

“To speak frankly, I’ve seen better.”

Felicity froze.

But not at what he said, but at the undercurrent riding them. It was a jab and she hadn’t missed it. What he really meant was: he’d seen more women that were more beautiful than her. One of them was sitting in this room right now.

“Well so have I.” She arched her left eyebrow to indicate the rugged musician sitting next to her and Lucas smiled turned into a feline grin. Dominic’s mouth twitched.

She sensed it coming. Something big. She just didn’t know what it was. All of the energy in the room seemed to gravitate towards him as if he had more mass than anything else. Anger, frustration, and something else poured from him in unrelenting waves like an assault. Felicity didn’t back down though, no matter how completely out of her league she was. And she was
totally
out of her league in every regard to this man, hell, to this entire family.

Then like a switch being thrown the spell broke, but it didn’t fade away. Instead it moved to linger in the background like a shadow flickering in a dark room.

Lucas burst out laughing and several things happened that no one pointed out.

One, Felicity had to remember to tell Beth she was right. Lucas Blackmoore had a devastatingly gorgeous voice—a lovely rumbling tenor. His singing voice could only be magnificent, for sure.

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