“Because the party is at her house this evening,” he explained.
Could tonight get any worse?
“Is this a good idea?” I forced myself to ask. “Your mother didn’t seem to like me too much. I doubt she’ll want me at her party.”
“She’s been warned to be on her best behavior.” The way he grimaced as he spoke told me that would hardly matter. “And she’s expecting you.”
“Why is that?”
He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Because I told her that you’re my girlfriend.”
My jaw unhinged, and I stared at him, waiting for him to smile and tell me he was joking. Julian didn’t move. He only studied me as if to determine how I felt about this revelation. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
His apology snapped me out of my daze. “Upset? That doesn’t feel like a strong enough word for it. Why would you do that?”
“Because I need a girlfriend to keep me from staking myself to get out of these fucking parties,” he started.
“How romantic,” I grumbled. “I completely understand now.”
He appeared lost in thought for a moment. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I’d hoped the cello might open your eyes to what I can offer you.”
“And what is that?” I channeled all the anger inside me into glaring at him. If I didn’t, I was worried that I might cry. Had I actually thought this was a real date? He’d made it clear last night that he wasn’t interested. Today, when the cello and dress arrived, I thought he had changed his mind. But this had nothing to do with romance. He wasn’t interested in me. He saw his gift as a sign-on bonus for hanging off his arm at parties.
But his answer wasn’t what I expected. “The world,” he said softly. “I can offer you the world.”
“Gift-wrapped?” I asked in a flat voice. I had no clue what he meant by any of this or why he would choose me–a woman he didn’t even want to sleep with–to be the one at his side.
“If you like.” His lips twisted into a smirk.
My heart fluttered at the sight, but I refused to give in to its reckless ideas about Julian or his lips.
“You can’t just buy yourself a girlfriend!” When had he taken his nap? The eighties of the eighteenth century?
“In my world, you can,” he said. He took one look at my face and swiftly added, “But that’s not the point.”
Before he could enlighten me on exactly what the point was, the limo paused in front of a wrought iron gate. Julian groaned as he looked out the window. “I will explain this to you later,” he promised. “But we’re here. I would like you to accompany me, but if you’d rather be taken home, that can be arranged.”
“Maybe we should finish our conversation.” I felt sick to my stomach. I wasn’t prepared to face his mother or hordes of beautiful vampires.
“I would much rather sit in here with you and debate this, but I’m expected inside.” His tone had taken on a sudden violent edge that shocked me. I cringed into my seat, and his expression softened. “Please, will you come with me?”
“In exchange for a cello?” I asked bitterly.
“The cello is yours.” There was no questioning the finality of this as he spoke. “You can do what you want with it.”
“I want to give it back.”
“Except that,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Play it, burn it, sell it. You’re just graduating, right? Pay off your student loans, buy a cheap instrument, and travel.”
I stared at him. A half a million dollars would do more than pay off my student loans. It would pay off my mom’s medical debts.
Julian smirked. He knew he had me against the wall. “What do you say?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THEA
The question rang in my ears. He’d finally found my forbidden fruit–the one temptation I couldn’t possibly resist. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do. The cello was a gift.”
“I thought it was compensation,” I reminded him.
“That was a cheap tactic. I’m not trying to buy you, Thea.” Underneath the stormy exchange, I heard something new creeping into his voice: sincerity.
“Why would you want me to go to these parties with you?” He’d already pointed out that I didn’t belong in his world, so why was he escorting me to its literal gates now?
“Because you are interesting.”
That wasn’t what I thought he would say. I narrowed my eyes. “Interesting? That sounds like a consolation award.”
“Let me finish,” he said sharply. “You never respond the way I expect you to respond.”
“I’m not like all the other girls?” I guessed with a roll of my eyes.
“What human is like another?” he asked, misunderstanding my point entirely. In fairness, he’d missed out on the sexual politics of the last few decades. “You play the cello with a passion I haven’t seen in centuries. I would like you to play for me again. You’re young and innocent...”
Was he planning to corrupt me? I fought the thrill I felt at that idea. I hadn’t forgotten the sharp edge of his fang and what it promised.
