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Chapter Nine

ISADORA

Of course it was him.

Because why stop at two St. Germains when you could round out the set? Apparently, the universe had some sort of score to settle with me, forcing me into this cursed tea party I’d never agreed to attend, starring all the people I least wanted to impress.

Lucien entered the café, his coat catching the light in a way that said custom tailoring, not retail, and his gaze swept the patio with lazy precision—until it landed on me.

I didn’t say a word. I just lifted my cup and sipped my drink as if my body wasn’t reacting on some ridiculous primal level I couldn’t control. Heat bloomed low in my stomach and my nerves ignited with lightning.

The man, by all accounts, was my enemy. And yet, I couldn’t tear my eyes off him.

Someone so insufferable should not look that good.

Like he’d been carved from stone itself by a sculptor with a god complex.

The sharp cheekbones, the perfectly tousled hair, the eyes so dark they looked black, the wickedly generous mouth…

Ugh, it wasn’t fair.

I’d noticed the attraction last night as well, when he’d strolled uninvited into my bar. But I’d blamed it on the adrenaline and the stressful situation. There was no mistaking it now, though.

Whatever this was, it was some annoyingly involuntary response to his tailored arrogance and bone structure beautiful enough to make angels weep. Anyone would find him attractive, right?

Because I was not interested in him. I couldn’t be. I wasn’t someone who let presence, reputation, or even an attractive jawline impress me. These emotions were little more than a reflex to meeting an attractive man. They were meaningless.

Especially because I knew better. I knew intimately what happened when you let a vampire like him under your skin. So no, I wasn’t impressed.

Unfortunately, it seemed my body had received an entirely different memo.

Lucien approached us, plucked a chair from a nearby table, then planted it next to Juliette’s.

Just like that, our crowded four-top became a cramped five-seater.

And he’d done so without asking permission to join us or borrow the chair from the other table.

He’d merely assumed he had the right to do as he wished. Arrogance wrapped in couture.

“This town needs better security,” Thorne muttered.

Lucien, unbothered as always, glanced at Juliette. “I see you’ve made yourselves comfortable.”

“Just enjoying the sunshine,” she replied, though no one within proximity—not even the haunted teacups—seemed convinced. “And the company.”

His attention slid back to me.

Gods. I hated that it landed like a spotlight.

“Miss Laurent,” he said.

“Mr. St. Germain.” I inclined my head, channeling every bit of bored debutante I’d long since perfected.

“We really must stop meeting like this,” he commented.

“By all means,” I replied. “Seeing as how I didn’t invite you to join my table, feel free to exit the way you entered.”

Thorne’s laugh was sharp and short.

Juliette, ever the diplomat, lifted a brow and addressed her brother. “You’re late.”

“I arrived exactly when I meant to,” he replied, still watching me. “Besides, you seem to have kept yourselves entertained.”

His gaze dropped to my lips for half a second. Just long enough for heat to flush my cheeks and my skin to tingle.

Was he…flirting? No. More like taking my stock. Plotting his next move.

Right?

“I see you’ve met my sisters,” he said smoothly.

“I have,” I replied. “Delightful company, if a bit unwanted.”

“ You invited us to sit,” Juliette reminded me, amusement tugging at her lips.

“Yes. And I shall make a note to learn from my mistakes.”

“So,” he said lightly, folding his hands. “What are we discussing?”

Juliette opened her mouth, but I beat her to it. “Oh, nothing important. Just casual threats and outdated racial slurs.”

Lucien’s brow lifted. “Sounds like you’ve had quite the afternoon.”

“You could say that.”

He looked at Evangeline. “I trust you’ve behaved?”

She grinned. “Define behaved.”

He sighed, the sound of an older brother exasperated with his sibling. Then, those eyes of his found mine again.

Something flickered in them. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t warmth, not exactly. But it wasn’t anger or hatred either. Interest, perhaps? Amusement, definitely.

Or maybe I was imagining it all.

Because I had to be, right?

Someone like Lucien would never be interested in someone like me.

Maybe in the past, I would have caught his eye, but now, I was little more than an ex-socialite who had been broken by her power-hungry, narcissistic ex-mate.

The last thing I needed was to start thirsting after another vampire with expensive taste and an over-inflated sense of ego.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, still studying me. “I assume you’re settling in well enough?”

I gave him a sharp grin. “You mean since last night, when you broke into my bar and offered unsolicited commentary? Yes. I’m thriving, thank you.” I gestured to Thorne. “The bar is coming together nicely, thanks to the help of my business partner here. She’s been pivotal to the restoration so far.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked between us. “How entrepreneurial of you.”

Thorne set her cup down with exaggerated care. “Well, we aren’t all handed empires on silver platters lined with blood contracts and hush money.” She flashed what I was sure she’d call a pleasant smile. “Some of us work to earn our reputations.”

Juliette’s brow arched, but she didn’t interject.

Evangeline gave a low whistle. “And here I thought we were being civil.”

“I am being civil,” Thorne said smoothly. “I haven’t bitten him. Yet.”

Her gaze sliced to Lucien, and all the warmth immediately drained from her expression. Centuries of bad blood came to life in that single, scathing look. If I hadn’t already known about their family feud, I would have just figured it out.

Lucien gave a low chuckle. “Charming as ever, Thorne.”

She tipped her head. “I try. But I must admit, keeping my claws sheathed around your family takes real effort.”

Juliette made a soft, disapproving sound, while Evangeline rumbled a small growl.

Sighing, Lucien shook his head, then turned his focus back on me. “Miss Laurent, I think it’s time we addressed the elephant in the room.”

I raised a brow. “Only one? I count at least three.”

Lucien’s lips twitched. “Clever. Now, this new business venture of yours is located two blocks from The Crimson Veil. I assume you’re aware of what this means?”

I rolled my eyes. I was hardly unintelligent, no matter what he might have thought of me. “It means I’m stepping on your surprisingly fragile toes. Or perhaps I should say ego.”

Thorne snorted. No one else at the table so much as blinked.

“You are in direct competition with my establishment,” he said, stating the obvious.

“I prefer to think of it as offering alternatives. Variety is the spice of life, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything for a beat. Just studied me with that same unreadable gaze. “I’ve spent decades building The Veil into what it is. The town knows who holds all the power, and their loyalty will remain with me.”

“Then what are you so worried about, Mr. St. Germain?”

“Lucien,” he said. Then he said in a softer voice, “Call me Lucien.”

“Pardon?”

“If we’re going to negotiate your surrender, I feel first names are more appropriate.”

Oh, there was a great deal to unpack in that statement. “ My surrender?” I laughed and took another slow sip. “Amusing, Lucien ”—damn it, why did his name feel so good on my tongue—“but I assure you, I won’t be surrendering anything . Least of all to you.”

“There are rules in Eternity Falls,” he said carefully. “Structures that maintain balance. Your bar—your presence—disrupts that.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “What an elegant way of saying I’m inconveniencing you.”

His jaw tensed. “I’m saying there are expectations.

Ones that affect more than just you and your establishment.

When you open a rival venue—especially one on territory historically tied to another family—there can be consequences.

I’m simply offering a chance to discuss terms,” he said. “To negotiate before things escalate.”

Juliette’s gaze shot to him, her eyes narrowed.

Lucien ignored his sister and continued, “I am willing to offer you something I’ve never offered anyone else. I will buy the bar from you.”

His sisters sucked in a simultaneous breath.

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, sliding it across the table to me.

“I think you’ll find the offer more than generous,” he said. “Enough for you to start over. Comfortably. Or perhaps you could buy another business in town. A different business. I’ve heard the library is looking for new ownership, if books interest you.”

Oh, how terribly thoughtful of him.

I didn’t reach for the paper. I didn’t need to look at it to know the number written on it would be far more than I paid for the bar in the first place.

But I refused to take the deal, to let him win.

My success would not hinge on someone else’s accomplishments.

No matter how challenging the restoration was, it would be worth it to call something mine .

I wasn’t looking for a quick buck—I was looking for a life, a purpose.

I pushed the paper back across the table with a single fingertip. “No, thank you.”

Lucien silently considered me, his expression neutral. “I can offer another fifty thousand on top of that offer.”

Juliette stared at her brother as though he’d just grown a second head.

“Lucien—” she hissed.

He cut her off with a slight lift of his hand.

Even Evangeline seemed confused. The two sisters shared a glance, but Juliette shook her head.

Lucien didn’t look at either of them. His attention stayed fixed on me. “I’m trying to offer you a way out. An easier path.”

I leaned forward slightly and rested my elbows on the table. “And I’m declining. Politely. Which is more than you deserve.”

Annoyance narrowed his eyes. “Your pride will cost you.”

“My pride is the only thing I can currently afford.”

Juliette’s gaze shot to me, but I didn’t break eye contact with her brother. Not for a second.

“I’m not Trystan,” Lucien suddenly said.

The name hit me like a slap, and I went rigid, my fingers gripping the edge of the table. He knew Trystan’s name?

Of course he did. This town thrived on gossip, and nothing gossiped more efficiently than old vampires with too much time and too many connections. But to say his name aloud? In front of me? In front of his sisters?

He hadn’t just drawn blood—he’d twisted the knife.

“You don’t get to say that name,” I said, quietly. Coldly. “Not to me. Not like that.”

Doubt crept into his gaze.

I slowly rose from my chair, because if I moved any faster, I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t hurl the whole damned table at him. Thorne stood with me, silent but solid at my side, her energy suddenly all claws and tension.

“You may not be Trystan,” I said. My voice was steady, but only because I willed it to be. “But I’ve learned to recognize the type. You, Mr. St. Germain, are arrogant and entitled. You belief you can buy whatever you want, even things you have no right to.”

The café went quiet. Conversations died mid-sentence, silverware paused midair—every supernatural ear tuned to the tension crackling between us, like the whole patio had collectively realized they were witnessing a showdown and didn’t want to miss a single word.

Lucien didn’t interrupt. Maybe I’d surprised him. Maybe not. He’d expected me to flinch, but he was so very wrong. And I was happy to disillusion him of that.

“You think throwing money at me will make me grateful.” My eyes narrowed. “But I didn’t crawl out of the wreckage of my old life just to sell myself into a new kind of debt. I’m not for sale. Not now. Not ever.”

Juliette’s gaze flicked between me and her brother. I wasn’t sure what she saw, but her expression told me she wasn’t happy.

“Have a good day, Mr. St. Germain,” I said. And with that, I turned on my heel and strode out of the café with my head held high.

Because I would not let anyone buy me.

Nor would I let anyone break me.

Not again.