Page 4 of Brushed By Moonlight

I checked my watch again. The clients referred to me by my godfather weren’t due for another two hours. But, shit. A van and sports car would fit a group of four — the number I’d been told to expect. Were they early, or had I mixed up the time?

I’d run my best 5K times a decade earlier, but I felt on track to set a new personal record now, following the road rather than the winding path through the woods. When the château came into view at the end of the tree-lined road, I cringed, spotting two vehicles parked there.

I sprinted the home stretch, practically crashing into the front door. Panting, I pushed it open, whipped off my cap, and toed off my running shoes, cursing the whole time. Apparently,my clients had let themselves in. Crap. I pictured a group of older businessmen drumming their fingers impatiently.

I squeezed my ponytail, and rainwater ran out of my long brown hair.

“May I come in?” A man stepped out of the shadows of the entryway.

I jumped, barely holding back a yelp.

His dark eyes and slicked-back hair gleamed as he stared down at me from an inch or two above my five foot nine.

“Gordon sent me,” he explained. “And the others.” He motioned upstairs with disdain.

His accent was that of a man who’d mastered half a dozen languages and forgotten which one he’d started with. His bearing hinted at old European nobility — or plain old arrogance. Something about him set off all my inner alarms, though I wasn’t sure why.

“Apologies for running in like this, but I wasn’t expecting you until later today,” I explained.

“Obviously,” he sniffed.

I nearly gave him a piece of my mind, but heck. A client was a client — especially one in such a crisp, pricey Louis Vuitton blazer and shirt. And while this group was small, they could make or break my hopes of attracting more lucrative business in the future.

So I stuck out my hand, trying to maintain a sense of dignity despite the rainwater dripping into a puddle at my feet.

“Welcome to Château Nocturne. I’m Mina.”

“Henrik,” he said, shaking briefly, then dropping my hand.

And, yikes. His touch was cold and clammy. Or, shoot. Was that me after running three miles through the rain?

“Please, come in.” I waved him in.

The main doors opened to a grand entrance hall with a huge chandelier. Twin stairways curved up either side to a mezzanine,making for an impressive sight. But Henrik set off up the right-side stairs without so much as a second glance at it all. Was he used to even grander surroundings?

I followed as my inner alarms screamed wildly. A split-second later, I realized why.

The stairs creaked under my feet but not under his.

My heart revved, and I stared as he continued over the next few steps.

No sound. Not so much as a whisper. No warmth in his voice either, and no scent. All that, plus cold, pale skin and asking for permission to enter despite acting like he owned the place.

Vampire. I’d just let a vampire into the house — er, château.

My grandmother had been quite the socialite, hosting huge parties attended by all manner of supernatural beings. As kids, my sister, cousin, and I would spy on the grown-ups from beneath tablecloths and work out what kind of supernatural each was, aided by acute senses and instincts passed down to us through the family line. We’d only ever seen a few vampires, though.

Henrik glanced back, arching one cocky eyebrow if to say,Ha. What are you going to do now?

I did my best to appear nonplussed. Vampires came in two varieties —lethaland merelydangerous. I was banking on the fact that Gordon wouldn’t have sent me the former. Not that the latter gave me much peace of mind.

I would be giving my godfather an earful later, that was for sure. Yes, I was desperate for business. But vampires?

On the very small plus side, the other three weren’t vampires. Otherwise, they couldn’t have let themselves in.

But let themselves in they had, and, like fleas drawn to a mangy dog, they’d homed right in on the most comfortable room in the house. Theonlycomfortable room, one might say — the grand drawing room on the upper floor.

A switch flipped in me, and I went from patient to pissed off.