Page 87 of The Silver Fox Vampire

Clare thrust the bottle at Oliver with a smile. “Best Tween chardonnay. I had a bottle in my fridge.”

“Thank you. So Brian got you here safely?”

“He did, and a very nice guy he is too. He told me he’s been working for you since you joined Motham police department all those years ago.”

“Yes, he has. He’d been out of work for a while due to injury. He was carrying a huge hunk of Malibar stone and broke a wing. Poor guy—that should never have been a job for bald eagles. Only gargoyles and dragons can take the weight of that stuff. So anyway, he can’t fly, but he can drive.”

“And wow, you have a hover car too!”

“Yeah, well, it lives in the garage mostly.”

Her gaze flew around the ornate hallway. “This place is grand!”

Oliver pulled a face. “Too fancy for my taste. I’ve been debating removing some of the filigree and gilt edgings on everything. But you know, I’d also be removing my mother’s décor and… I can’t quite bring myself to do that.” He heard the slight crack in his voice and cleared his throat. Shit, he didn’t need to get emotional right now.

She glanced at him sympathetically. “That must be so hard.”

“After two centuries, the memories fade,” he lied, knowing she didn’t buy it for a moment. She’d been there when he cried out in his dreams. She’d salved his pain with her blood. The thought of drinking her blood again tonight made anticipation light up his nerve endings. Abruptly he said, “Come, let me show you around.”

He opened and closed doors, giving her a cursory glance into rooms still with dust covers on the furniture. His study, at least, was a room he’d redecorated in his simple taste.

He’d decided they would eat in the smaller ante room off the kitchen. As he showed her his spacious kitchen, she stared in amazement at the state-of-the-art appliances and coffee machine. Double ovens, and cupboards full of crystal glasses.

“You rattle around in here alone? Boiling an egg for breakfast?” She laughed.

“I do indeed, but I have staff who come and go, clean, and occasionally cook. Brian tends to the grounds as well as chauffeuring for me when needed. Now, go and sit down. I’ll sear the steaks and bring them in.”

Oliver had to admit, he was quite proud of his efforts to be the perfect host. He brought out the side dishes, then the steaks with a flourish. “Tuck in,” he said, waving a hand at the tray of vegetables and the crispy green salad.

He poured them each a glass of wine. “Bon Appetit,” he murmured and watched her covertly as she cut into her steak. Phew, it looked okay. “Is it to your liking?”

She popped a piece into her mouth and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Yes, delicious, perfect medium rare.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you nervous about your cooking?”

“Maybe a little. It’s been a while since I entertained anyone.”

“Then let me reassure you, it’s the best steak I have had. Ever. Period.”

He gave a little scoff of pleasure. “My parents used to own a farm up near Avella, with two hundred head of cattle, before The Great War. Steak was something my father knew how to cook.”

“And these roasted vegetables are divine.”

“Secret recipe—olive oil, a sprinkle of balsamic vinegar, and maple syrup.”

She waved her fork at him, her eyes twinkling. “No longer a secret.”

“Damn!” He laughed. “But enough of my cooking. I’ll develop a swollen head if you keep paying me compliments. Tell me something about your family.”

“There’s my mom and dad and my older brother, Adam. He helps them run the business now. He’s married to Trina, and they have an eighteen-month-old daughter, Poppy.”

“So you’re an auntie?”

“Yeah, she’s the cutest thing ever. I miss her the most out of all of them.”

“Well, you will be reunited when you return to live in Tween.”

She paused. “I’m not sure I will ever go back to live in Tween.”

“What will you do instead?”