“Are you in love with me?”

She stared at him with wide blue eyes.

“What are you talking about? I’m marrying—”

“Are you in love with me, Gemma?”

Her eyes narrowed and grew colder.

“You really are a right bastard,” she said harshly, her cultured accent slipping in anger. “You have no idea, do you?”

“You are,” he muttered with a frown. “You are, and I had no idea. She’s right, I’m really quite obtuse at times, aren’t I?”

Gemma curled her lip. “Well, that’s something your perceptive little human and I agree on, Giovanni.” Then she shrugged and faced forward, crossing her arms across her dove-grey suit and lifting her chin.

“Why are you marrying Terry?”

“Because he’s a good man, an excellent partner, and he knows me and cares for me as I am.”

He frowned. “Do you love him?”

Giovanni saw her roll her eyes. “For a five-hundred-year old vampire, you’re remarkably sentimental at times, do you know that? Perhaps it’s because you were raised during the Renaissance.” She shook her head. “For most of human history, marriages were arranged and almost none of them were based on love. I have a huge amount of respect for my fiancé, a real affection for him, and the sex is surprisingly good. Nothing explosive like we were, but for long-term prospects, I doubt I’ll see better. I foresee Terry and I working well together for hundreds of years. Past that?” She shrugged. “Who knows? Nothing is permanent in this life. If we choose to part ways after that, then I’m sure we can reach an amicable arrangement. We’re both very pragmatic people.”

“But Deirdre and Ioan—”

“Had something very few people ever find.” She cut her eyes toward him. “Don’t tell me about my brother and sister. What they had…” She turned away, but not before he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “What they had was unique. I’ve never…even what I may feel for you is nothing like what they had. Ioan and Deirdre were special, Gio.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached across the car to take her hand in his.

“I know, Gemma.” He squeezed her fingers. “I know. I miss him, too.”

They sat in silence the rest of the drive to the house, and Giovanni knew they would never speak of her feelings for him again.

London, England

March 2010

Beatrice straightened his tie for him before they went upstairs for dinner.

“As long as you’ve lived,” she muttered, “and you still make it crooked.”

He smiled down at her. “How did you learn to tie a necktie, tesoro? Was it a rebellious fashion statement in grad school that I never caught wind of?”

“My grandfather, you goof.” She smirked as she continued to tie the perfect Windsor knot. If he was purposefully making them subpar so she would fix them…well, he decided she didn’t need to know. He enjoyed her fussing over him too much.

“My Grandpa Hector was a plumber, but he loved dressing up. He would take Grandma for dinner and dancing every month.” She smiled wistfully. “It was their thing. And he always dressed in a suit for church on Sunday. He was…”

“What?” She hardly ever talked about her grandfather, and he knew they had been very close.

“He was my ideal man,” she said with a soft smile.

“You loved him very much.”

She sniffed and wiped at the tear in the corner of her eye. “I adored him.”

Beatrice finished up with his tie and then went to the bathroom to change into the deep burgundy dress she had bought the day before. It was high necked and long-sleeved, which would cover the bruises that still dotted her pale skin.

Giovanni was happy to see her injuries gradually decreasing as she gained strength and speed. She had also acquired the faint smell of cordite and gun oil since learning to shoot with Terry. According to their host, she had a natural and “typically American” affinity for firearms and was becoming a very good shot.

“Speaking of grandfathers, tesoro, did you call Ernesto today?”

“I did,” she said through the bathroom door. “Why did you want me to talk to him again?”

“He requested that I keep him updated on our progress, and I thought he would enjoy talking to you, as well. Keep in mind, he’s a powerful vampire who has a real affection for you. That’s not something to take for granted.”

She peeked her head out the door and he caught a tantalizing glimpse of bare shoulder. “I just met him that one time. I don’t want him to think I’m looking for anything from him.” She shut the door and continued her preparations.

“You should. He would expect you to.” He came to sit on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom and picked up a long, dark hair that lay on her pillow, twining it around his finger as they talked.

“What do you mean, he expects it?”

“He considers you family, remember? He will enjoy providing connections for you. He’ll consider it a privilege.”

“That seems kind of opportunistic.”

Giovanni chuckled. “Trust me, he’ll use his connection to me now if he needs it, and I’m happy to give it to him. He won’t get anything I’m not willing to give.”

“So why—”

“He’s a powerful and wealthy man. Part of his wealth is his connections. He offers you connections and…pedigree, if you want to call it that. You offer him connection to me, to Carwyn, to Gemma and Terry now…even to the legendary Tenzin. It’s all part of how the game is played.”