Chapter 11

Charlotte Sanguinite

Ever since my night with Robert, my dreams have returned with a vengeance. I've tried to ignore them. I've tried everything I possibly could not to let them affect my daily life, but that's easier said than done. The problem is that the man I always see in my dreams—the faceless man who doted on me, who loved me, who made me feel special and important and everything else in between—now has a face.

He has Robert's face.

And somehow, it hurts even more.

Angie left that day with a warning, telling me to be careful. She was certain Robert was not done with me. But I knew he was. He had to be. Why else would he avoid me like that? And even though I kept telling myself that this was for the best, it didn't negate the hurt and the sliver of humiliation I felt.

Every waking moment, all I could think was that Robert used me, manipulated me into his bed, and then vanished the moment he got what he wanted. Yet in my dreams, he treats me like I am the most precious being in his whole world. The way my heart has been breaking in every manner has left me exhausted.

However, I never expected to see him walk into the cafe, in the early morning, before we're even open, in a dress shirt that looks wrinkled and torn from the shoulder and pants that have a large red stain on them. My first instinct isn't anger. It's fear. Fear for him.

He looks like hell.

"Will you let me take you out on a date?"

Of all the things for him to say, this is not what I would have imagined.

"What?" I gape at him, my heart pounding.

"A date, Charlotte," he repeats. "I would like to take you out on one."

I'm trying to process what he's saying.

"Why do you look like this?" I grab him by the collar without thinking. "You had me concerned you were involved in some sort of fight!"

Suddenly angry, both at myself for overreacting and at him for treating me so callously, I shove him backward.

"Were you worried about me?" He has that boyish grin on his face, the one that never fails to make me melt, but I'm still mad.

"No."

"Pity." Robert gives me a sad look. "Now, about that date."

"The answer is no." I turn around on my heel, ready to storm off somewhere, but he captures my wrist and pulls me back around with considerable ease.

"You didn't even think about it," he persists, looking up at me beseechingly.

"I don't have to think about it!" I try to pull my hand away, but his grip is strong.

I'm pissed off. Right now, there is no other rationale moving through my head aside from the fact that he hasn't bothered to contact me even once since our night together.

"Charlotte—" Robert begins, and I cut him off, hissing.

"You made me feel like a tramp. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, huh? You got what you wanted. Now you can go brag about how you managed to screw the defective vampire! Just leave me alone!"

When his eyes widen in shock, I take advantage of it and yank my hand free. I storm off, but Robert is not far behind.

"That's not how it was! I would never—Look, I know you're mad…Charlotte, look at me." He grabs my face in his hands, forcing me to stare at him. "That is not the case at all. I was just busy—"

"Busy avoiding me, clearly." My upper lip curls in anger. "Look, I don't want to see you. In fact, I would say I've been very vocal about us keeping our distance from each other. Don't drag me into your world. Just let me live my life."

I shove him and try to walk away, but the man is persistent to a fault.

"I can't do that. I know you're mad. If you'd just hear me out—"

"I don't want to hear you out!" I say fiercely. "For heaven's sake, Robert. What are you even thinking? You're an Alpha! You have a pack. Nothing is going to come of this. Nothing good, anyway!"

"You don't know that." Robert's brow furrows, and I stare at him for a moment, feeling confused.

After a moment, I speak, slowly and with precision. "Robert, think about what you are doing. What happened between us was a mistake. It never should have happened. I don't know why you are trying to do all this, but you're not thinking clearly. There is nothing in our future. Absolutely nothing. So, there's no reason to start anything. We cannot be friends because our species are at war. It's best if we just stay away from each other."

I practiced this speech after our night together, sure that he would show up eventually. But as I deliver it, it doesn't seem right. It's like the words are coming out of somebody else's mouth.

Robert looks upset, his eyebrows knitting together. "You're rejecting me?"

"I'm saying—"

"Is it because of my scar?" he demands bluntly.

I suddenly feel insulted. "Why would I have a problem with your scar? What kind of question is that?"

"Well, that's the only reason I can think of for you rejecting me." Robert gives me a suspicious look.

I can't help but glare at him. "Don't pretend to be dense, and don't play the scar card with me. I don't have a problem with your scar. And you know exactly why I'm saying no. I just told you."

"If you really felt that way," Robert counters, "then why were you so angry that I didn't show up sooner?"

His fierce response has me staggering. I have no way of answering that.

"I—I wasn't angry…" I try to slip out of the trap that I unwittingly just created for myself.

"Now you're insulting me." Robert gives me a look that makes me want to smack him over the head. "You were upset I didn't get in touch with you. If you truly believed your little speech, then you would have been thrilled that I didn't, wouldn't you?"

I can't fault his logic. The truth is, I wanted him to show up, but I also knew that if he had finally walked away from me, it was for the best.

When I can't get any words out, Robert smirks. "Well, we have our answer right there."

My eyes narrow, and I take a step forward, drilling my finger into his chest. "No, we don't. My answer is no. It's going to remain no."

Robert looks down at my finger. "What if I can change your mind?"

A sharp laugh leaves my mouth. "I prefer survival over dating, Robert. My answer won't change. You are trouble. I like to stay away from trouble."

He doesn't so much as flinch.

"The problem is, Charlotte," Robert gently wraps his hand around my finger, his voice low, "it's not just me who wants you. My wolf is equally obsessed with you."

When he takes a step toward me, I feel my heart skip a beat. The friendly, cheerful man I know has been replaced by a dark, dangerous one with a crooning voice that is reaching inside me and touching every sensitive nerve.

"I can't force you to do anything, of course." He brings my finger to his lips and presses a kiss against the very tip of it.

My abdomen tightens at this tame action.

"But I can do my very best to change your mind." His smile is both wicked and charming, and I can't get my traitorous heart under control. I watch helplessly as he turns my hand around to press a wet kiss to the center of my palm. "Let's see which one of us manages to hold out the longest."

"Charlotte, the lemon tarts are cool—" Jazz's voice dies as she walks out of the kitchen and straight into the scene playing out before her. "Ah, you two need some privacy?"

"I was just leaving," Robert says, but he doesn't look away from me.

My mouth is dry as he leans forward and plants a very sweet kiss on my cheek, murmuring as he does, "I'll see you back in my bed really soon, little vampire."

As he turns around to walk away, I stand there frozen. The moment he is out the door, however, Jazz explodes, excited. "What the hell was that all about?! Charlotte!"

I turn around slowly to look at her. "I—I don't know."

She approaches me, her eyes wide. "So, he finally showed up, huh? What did he want?"

"He asked me out on a date," I mumble, my head still spinning.

"And you said…?"

"I said no." I blink several times. "He and I, we're from very different worlds. It's not going to work."

Clearing my throat, I begin walking back to the cupcake display, my heartbeat unsteady. Jazz trails after me. "So what if he's some crazy rich guy? He's clearly head over heels for you! That's gotta count for something."

I open the display and start setting up the cupcakes. "I want a simple, peaceful life, Jazz. Robert Montgomery is the furthest thing from that kind of person."

"He seems peaceful enough." Jazz leans over the glass display case, watching me. "Besides, if a man looked at me like he was just looking at you, I'd be eating him up."

"What?" I stare at her. "Eating what up? And I thought you had a boyfriend. Aren't you and Marcus madly in love?"

"Yeah," Jazz shrugs. "But Marcus is a boy. Robert is a man. A much older man." Her brows wiggle. "More experienced, more willing to spoil you, more—"

"So, you want me to make him my sugar daddy?" I gape at her, unable to follow her train of thought.

She rolls her eyes at me. "You don't have a single romantic bone in your body, Charlotte. I meant that older men know what they want. They're looking to settle down in life, and when a man looks at you the way Robert does, he'll put the whole world at your feet if you just ask."

I close the display case and get to my feet. "You, Jazz, read too much into how he looks at me. The man has ‘trouble' written all over him. I don't play with trouble. Trouble needs to keep a ten-foot distance from me or get tased."

My friend scoffs. "Like you would tase Robert. I saw the way your cheeks were all red. He's not the only one who's got the hots."

I can't really argue with that, so as I fix the disposable cup stand, I say, tightly, "It's complicated, Jazz. And shouldn't you worry about your own relationship? I haven't seen Marcus for a few days now."

Jazz's expression darkens. "Neither have I. Do you think Dad paid him off like they do in the movies? ‘Take this check for fifty thousand dollars, and stay away from my daughter!'"

She mimics her father, and I chuckle. "Somehow I find it hard to see your father giving anybody that amount of money."

"True," Jazz says ruefully. "He's such a miser. I'm not worth fifty grand to him."

"You're priceless to him," I remind her. "He dotes on you."

Jazz makes a face. "He hates Marcus, though."

I choose not to comment on that. I met Jazz after she started dating Marcus, but from my few random conversations with her father, it's clear that Marcus is the reason Jazz changed her whole personality. I'm only a few years older than Jazz, but perhaps my life experiences were harsher, so I'm quite critical of her boyfriend. Not that I would say anything. Marcus does seem to like her, so at least there is that.

"Anyway," Jazz changes the topic. "Shelby told me something was wrong with Mano. She's been at the vet?"

The mention of my cat has me grinning. "Oh, yeah. She wasn't eating that much, but her stomach was bloating, so I asked Ricky to take a look at her. I dropped her off at the shelter the other morning."

Jazz studies my face. "I'm assuming it wasn't bad news?"

I chuckle, still a little shocked by the surprising outcome. "Apparently, the little hussy went and got herself knocked up by my neighbor's cat. I thought she was fixed. Ricky thought she was fixed. I don't know what happened. She's got little babies growing in her. He came by after work yesterday to let me know because my phone was off."

Jazz's lips part. "Wait! Mano's having kittens?!"

"Yep." I beam.

"Can I have one?"

"Sure." I shrug. "If she doesn't mind parting with one. I'm not making any promises. She's very possessive. But if she doesn't want to give up her babies, we have five newborn kittens at the shelter who will be up for adoption after two months. I can bring you pictures if you want."

Jazz rests her chin on her palm. "That's okay. I'll come by myself after work sometime this week. I've never seen the shelter, so it'll be nice to check it out."

I glance at Jazz silently. Things must be really bad between her and Marcus for her to want to visit the shelter just to have something to do. Normally, she spends every waking minute outside of work with Marcus. I know not to pry. When she's ready, she'll talk about it. I doubt it's as simple as Marcus just avoiding her.

Turning my attention back to the cups I'm setting up, I frown to myself. I shouldn't be worrying about Jazz when I have a wolf Alpha chasing me.

I just don't understand it.

There is nothing remotely appealing about me. That's not to say that I consider myself ugly by any means. I simply don't have anything that someone like Robert would be drawn to. If anything, I'm a workaholic. My hobbies are introverted. I keep to myself. I'm not exciting or interesting enough for anybody, especially a wolf Alpha, to pursue me.

So why does Robert want to date me? Why is he so adamant about uprooting this quiet, calm life that I have managed to build for myself?

I don't understand his logic. I don't understand his interest in me.

But I won't bend to his will.

It doesn't matter what I want or how I feel. I have to use my head, not my heart.

Besides—a soft smile forms on my lips—I'm going to have my hands full with Mano and her little babies soon enough. I won't have time to think about the blue-eyed Alpha with his charming smile.

******

Robert waits a couple of days before he launches an attack.

And it's not what I was expecting.

"Delivery for Charlotte Beaumont!"

I look up from where I'm preparing a latte for a customer. "That's me. I'll be right with you."

Putting the lid on the coffee, I hand it over to the customer before rounding the counter toward the delivery man. "Yes?"

"Sign here, please." He holds out a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.

"I don't remember ordering anything," I mutter as I make sure the name and address are correct. It doesn't make sense that the delivery address is the cafe. I've never had anything delivered here. I have a post office box near my house where I pick up my packages.

However, the name and address are correct.

Reluctantly, I sign the slip.

The delivery man hands me a large package tied up in brown paper.

"What is it?" Shelby asks curiously.

"I don't know," I reply, confused. Putting the parcel on one of the unoccupied tables, I open it carefully. My eyes widen a moment later.

"No."

"What is it, Charlotte?" Jazz is impatient and decides to look for herself. She makes a sound of disappointment. "Oh, it's just books."

I'm not listening to her, though. My blood is thundering in excitement.

"These are—How did these—"

I can't even form a coherent sentence, just staring at the hardcover books. They are a fictional detective series from a foreign author who doesn't sell his novels outside his country. I've only managed to read his books online, from no legitimate sources. I never dreamed I could ever own actual copies of his work, including his new releases.

"Are you crying?!" Jazz looks horrified.

"No," I sniffle, feeling overwhelmed. A card slips from one of the books, and I lean down to pick it up. There is a crudely drawn wolf on one side, and the other side reads, "You mentioned your favorite author while you were drinking all that tea."

I stare at the message, and incredulous laughter spills out of me.

I have a feeling Robert's never going to stop reminding me of my mix-up with iced tea and the Long Island variety.

I don't remember talking about the author. I must have been very drunk.

"Charlotte?" Jazz asks curiously, peeking over my shoulder to look at the note. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," I shake my head.

I should throw the card away, but when I hold it over the trash bin, my hand refuses to release it. Sighing, I tuck it back into one of the books.

Devious, devious man.

He knew exactly how to get under my skin.

If it had been flowers or chocolates or any of the normal gifts guys send, it would have been easier to be unaffected. This is much harder. It's as if he reached inside me, took a small desire that I never had any hopes of achieving, and turned it into a beautiful reality.

"Jerk," I mumble to myself.

As I hurry to the back room, hugging my precious bounty to my chest, I hear Jazz say, "Who gets that excited over books?"

I put the novels in my bag and close my locker before smiling giddily. I can't wait to get home and look at them again.

The day can't end fast enough for me, and as evening falls, Gina reminds me, "You have to lock up today."

I close my eyes. Damn it.

Locking up alone means more work.

Unfortunately, this is my job, and I can't exactly say no. I flip the closed sign once the hours are up and begin putting the chairs on the tables. Gina was kind enough to prepare the mop water for me today; I quickly clean the floor, then go into the bathroom to drain the bucket. After washing it, I put it in the small storage room we have in the back for cleaning supplies. As I'm about to close the door of the storage room, I hear a sound coming from outside.

Frowning, I take off my rubber gloves and make my way to the front of the cafe.

A woman is standing there, near the counter, her back to me.

"I'm sorry," I begin. "We're closed."

Two things happen at the same time: I see the way the front door lock has been broken, and the cold energy that can only belong to a vampire reaches me.

I freeze.

This is not good.

The woman slowly turns, and I recognize her almost instantly. My blood runs cold.