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Her gorgeous, centuries-old, gothic Victorian home was a close second. Long gone were the walls of her dank prison. Everywhere she turned, beauty surrounded her. Rich, jewel-tone fabrics trimmed with heavy fringe. Gilded wallpaper, silks and velvets. She’d purchased the eight-bedroom house with the moneyHehad once showered on her to earn her affections. Every beautiful detail filled her with a certain brand of justice. It only seemed right thatHeshould foot the bill for her well-deserved happiness.

She peered at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Golden eyes with skillfully winged liner and smokey shadow smoldered back at her. Rouge tinted her high cheeks, adding color to her ivory complexion. After much debate, she’d decided to leave her ebony curls down for operation “shock and awe.” Her weapon’s instructor once told her it was a military tactic used to intimidate and overwhelm an enemy’s perception, destroying their will to fight. That’s exactly what she needed tonight. Something guaranteed to bring a thick-headed male to his knees with just one look.

“Armooond,” she sang. “I’d rather not greet my guest in stockings and garters.” The lace lingerie she currently wore was for—later.

Vivian’s progeny hustled from the massive walk-in closet, brow furrowed, a crease of irritation stamped on his otherwise flawless features. In his hands were two dresses, both black. “If you had just gone with the Chanel as I suggested, we could both be sipping cosmos on the settee by now.” He huffed a midnight lock from his forehead. “Which one, and don’t say neither.”

She tapped her manicured nail against her chin. “Not the Zana Bayne. Too many buckles. Although that could prove entertaining. I suppose the classic black sheath will have to do.”

Armond tipped his head back, saying to the ceiling, “Praise the gods. The Black Widow, queen of all divas, has made her choice.”

“Très amusant.You are very amusing.” Vivian narrowed one eye, pursing her glossy crimson lips. “Careful, or I may send you to the gallows.”

“Don’t tease,” Armond groaned. “It’s been ages since Desmond and I were at the club.” Piles of costly couture lay strewn on the bed. Her progeny flung the rejected gown with the others. “Come now. Let’s slide you into this little darling.”

Vivian rose from the dressing table, and Armond was quick to zip her into the dress, perhaps fearing she’d change her mind again. Before she’d smoothed the fabric over her narrow waist and generous hips, he darted to the closet, returning with a pair of strappy stilettos.

“Don’t even think of objecting.” He held up a hand. “These arethe onlyheels that will work with this ensemble. Foot,” he commanded, no longer giving her a choice in the matter. This time, she didn’t dare object. Armond’s eye for fashion far surpassed her own. For several years now, he’d served as her personal assistant and stylist. The management of her wardrobe alone was a full-time job.

“You’re so cute when you’re high on couture,” she teased.

Buckles shaped like snake heads adorned the straps of the stilettos he’d selected. Armond was right. They were perfect. Seductive, elegant, with a hint of venom. She slipped her stocking-clad toes into the pump and set her foot on the bench while Armond secured the straps.

As she admired his profile, she found it hard to believe her progeny had ever been human. After her time withHim,she’d returned to her childhood home in Versailles to lick her many wounds. It was there she stumbled upon Armond. Covered in filth, wearing rags—mortally wounded. It was the irresistible call of so much spilled blood that had lured her to his side. Though he lay dying, in his eyes, she’d recognized a fiery spark. Vivian was well acquainted with that spark. A spark that said he wasn’t willing to die in a dark alley, beaten and bruised. A spark that said he would fight to survive, no matter the cost. On that fateful night, she’d opened her vein for him and become his sire.

Long gone was the destitute human she’d stumbled upon all those years ago. Today her progeny was a self-assured vampire with olive skin, dark hair, and gorgeous Mediterranean bone structure. He was fit without being overly muscled. In a suit, a literal heart-stopper. His mannerisms were so refined no one would suspect he’d once eaten refuse. When he served as her escort, they made a striking couple.

With her heels secured, he released her foot and turned to the mountain of clothing on the bed, huffing, “Look at this. I’ll be hours reorganizing this mess.”

Vivian arched one finely plucked brow. “I’m sure it will be exhausting for you, telling Gilbert how to hang the dresses.”

When she’d purchased her home, dearest Gilbert was part of the deal she’d negotiated. The former owner insisted she allow his anculus to remain with the property. Anculus were among a handful of mortals the underworld trusted to keep its secrets. For many, it was a coveted position. Gilbert’s family had served the vampire aristocrats for generations. The elderly gentleman was an absolute treasure and spoiled them all terribly. Armond wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Gilbert wouldn’t hear of it.

Armond ignored her teasing and opened the door to her jewelry armoire. “This male you’ve enlisted to serve as your bodyguard must be someone of great importance. It’s not like you to take this long to select a simple dress.”

Vivian’s cheeks heated, and she gave him her back, hiding her reaction. “Liam is an old friend who owes me a debt. Not long ago, I assisted him with a delicate matter, and he offered payment in return. Nothing more.”

“‘Nothing more,’” Armond scoffed, laying out her jewelry on the dressing table. “The mountain of clothing on your bed says otherwise.” He lingered at her side, his curious gaze fixed on her.

She tucked the three-carat diamond teardrop into her pierced ear, avoiding his eyes. “We were close once, but that was a lifetime ago. What’s past is past. The male has no hold on my affections.” Thanks toHim, she’d never give her heart away again.

Armond snorted. “And you’ve brought this old friend here to prove that to him or yourself?”

Her progeny was too perceptive. She shot his reflection a look of reproach in the mirror. “Your time with Desmond has turned you into a sentimental fool.”

He propped his hands on his hips, far from cowed. “Speaking of fools, when I suggested you get a bodyguard, calling in your old flame’s marker isn’t what I had in mind.”

“Liam owes me a debt. I needed a bodyguard. It all makes perfect sense,” she said, perhaps a bit too casually.

Armond moved closer, giving her his full attention. Tone thick with suspicion, he asked, “Vivian, what exactly did he promise you?”

Slowly, she turned to face her progeny, certain the answer would do little to appease his concerns. “Two weeks of his complete obedience.”

“Two weeks of what?” He barked an incredulous laugh. “And yet you expect me to believe this arrangement is nothing more than a simple business deal. Does he know you only need him toprotect, notpleasureyour body?”

The corner of her mouth curled. Never would she admit to Armond there wasnothingsimple about the debt Liam owed her. “I plan to educate him when he arrives. Besides, who says I can’t have a bit of fun with him while he’s here?”

“Vivian!” The bedroom door winged open, and Dove breezed into the room, a long white box in her hands. To look at Vivian’s Chosen, none would imagine she was a faerie of the necromancer cast. Instead of the gloomy persona associated with those who commune with the dead, Dove was a whirlwind of sparkling energy and enthusiasm. From the moment they’d met, Vivian had felt an instant connection to the free-spirited girl, along with an overwhelming urge to protect her innocent nature.