Page 22 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Antoine looked at him fondly. It wasn’t Marcel’s fault that he was inadvertently reminding him of Belle—at least of her love for ostentatious luxury. “Very well.”

Marcel held out the keys as if they were something sacred.

“Thank you.” Antoine accepted them, turning toward the door. “Don’t feel you need to wait up.”

“You tell me every time, sir.”

The drive to The Berkshire took thirty minutes. The club was favored by the mayor for its exclusivity and proximity to City Hall. It also lay within Gabriel’s territory—another intrusion. But this time, there was no reason not to notify him. He’d likely hear of it anyway.

Settling into the car, Antoine scrolled through his contacts, wondering if Gabriel had changed his number. How long had it been since they last spoke? Years.

The phone rang a few times before connecting, Gabriel’s southern accent filling the car.

“Antoine? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Evening Gabriel. A formal courtesy: the mayor has invited me to the club tonight.”

“Oh?” A hint of interest. “Nothing like short notice.”

“My fault,” Antoine admitted. “He invited me yesterday, but time got away from me.”

“Ah.” A pause. “The club, huh? Not your usual scene.”

“Accepting seemed politic.”

“Politics?” Gabriel said. “Definitely not your scene.”

“I’ve been known to dabble.”

“There is a dress code, you know.”

“Thanks. Funny. I do own some smart clothes.”

“Well, I appreciate you making me aware. Enter, uphold our traditions, and keep my domain tranquil.” Gabriel’s lazy drawl made everything sound inconsequential—even vampire customs as vital as this one.

“Your trust is met with solemn commitment.” Antoine returned the formal phrase with feeling; Minh was causing problems, he could do without antagonizing Gabriel too.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.”

Antoine blinked. “You’re at the club tonight?”

“There’s a poker game.”

That made sense; Gabriel’s uncanny emotional abilities gave him an edge in cards. “You don’t need the money. Why still play?”

“It’s something to do.”

Well, there was that. “Then I’ll see you shortly. Though I may as well cut you a check now and save myself the time.” There. That sounded friendly enough, didn’t it?

“It’ll be good to see you, Antoine. It’s been too long.”

“Likewise.”

The call dropped. Antoine sat in the silence of the car, pondering the risks. Would Gabriel detect his increased power? If so, would he inform the Curia, or view it as none of his concern?

Antoine would have to keep his distance. How, he wasn’t quite sure.

The club had valet parking, and as Antoine handed over his keys, he wondered how much more chaotic his life would be by the time the evening was over and he got them back.

The Berkshire was an exclusive, members-only club that discouraged both new enquiries and non-members. Still, civility reigned as Antoine was directed through the various rooms. It wasn’t his first visit, and he was well-known here—or, more accurately, his wealth was.

The club catered to Boston’s elite, and the power within its walls transcended electoral results.

Generous donations to causes, both noble and not, earned Antoine several nods as he passed.

There was a moral ambiguity to spreading his wealth among people like these, but Antoine justified it by the careful selection of favors he so rarely called in.

The attendant opened a door for him. “The Green Room, sir.”

Several men were already seated at the card table. The lack of women only highlighted the misogyny that permeated this social structure. All the men were white, middle-aged, and, Antoine suspected, Protestant—though the latter seemed to matter less and less with each passing decade.

The mayor rose as Antoine entered, extending his hand. “Anthony! Glad you could make it.”

“Good evening, Bill.” Antoine shook the offered hand, his eyes scanning the table. Five other men sat there, one of whom was Gabriel. He recognized two others—leaders in industry and academia, the latter a member more for old money than academic distinction.

“Quick introductions?” Bill asked, with the easy charisma of a man amid his own peers. He gestured to the closest man.

Antoine only half-listened to the names being shared, acknowledging each man in turn. None of them rose to greet him; the game was in full swing, stacks of chips and cards before each player.

“And Gabe Wells, who I believe you already know.”

Antoine nodded. Gabriel’s response was as formally cool as his own. Neither vampire would give anything away in front of chattel, regardless of their status. It wouldn’t do to acknowledge any sort of friendship—if there was one. Antoine wasn’t sure there was.

Gabriel’s chip stack was already noticeably larger than the others’, and the game had barely begun.

An empty seat waited to the right of the mayor, a modest stack of chips before it.

That would put Antoine as far from Gabriel as was possible—which was still too close for comfort.

But whether Gabriel could sense the shift in Antoine’s power, he couldn’t say.

Either Gabriel would notice, or he wouldn’t.

He took a seat as Bill did the same, waiting for the current hand to finish and the next to be dealt.

“I’m glad you were able to make it, Anthony,” Bill teased once the hand had concluded. “Quite the excitement yesterday, I hear.”

Antoine folded back the corner of the two cards he’d been dealt, then pushed them dismissively towards the dealer. “Just helping out where I can.”

“Ah, Mr. Du Pont is being humble.” Bill peered at his own cards before calling the blind. “He was busy aiding our Police Commissioner with enquiries, and I’m dying to hear the story.”

Antoine kept his eyes on the green baize of the poker table, though he noticed Gabriel’s sharp glance at him. Bill had just effectively placed Antoine in Gabriel’s territory, and he hadn’t alerted the other vampire. Whoops, should’ve seen that coming.

“Oh there’s not much to tell,” Antoine said. Another player called, and the rest folded around to Gabriel on the big blind, who checked.

“Three players,” said the dealer discreetly, and dealt the flop.

“I found myself witness to a crime last night, and as I happened by the police headquarters, I thought I’d drop in and provide a statement.” He looked up at Gabriel. “It was rather last minute, and I wasn’t there long.”

Gabriel nodded subtly, accepting the excuse and apology, and pushed out a small stack of chips.

“Oh come now, you’re not getting off so easily,” Bill said, raising in turn.

“Gerry—that’s our Police Commissioner, by the way, as some of you will know—Gerry told me there was a pretty girl involved.

Surely there’s a story when one of the city’s most eligible bachelors drops in to convince the police of her innocence. ”

The player to Bill’s left folded, and Gabriel called. “Is that what you did, Mr. Du Pont?”

“Call me Anthony,” Antoine said. “I happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Two players,” the dealer said, laying down the turn.

Gabriel checked to the mayor. “How noble of you, Anthony, caring so much for the common folk.” His tone was mild, but Antoine could hear the real message: a subtle jab at his compassion for someone seen as little more than chattel, and an unspoken question of why he’d bothered.

At the same time, Gabriel was highlighting Antoine’s gallantry before an audience who would never stop to help the lower classes. A deft move to isolate him.

“Like I said, I was merely passing.”

“I hate it when Gabe does this raise-check thing from the big blind,” Bill commented lightly, checking in turn. “I never know how to act.” It was a polite attempt to break the tension.

The river hit the board, and Gabriel barely glanced at it. “I’m sure she was enthralled by you,” he drawled, the emphasis slight. He pushed a stack of chips forward, betting the pot.

“I assure you she was not,” Antoine replied mildly. Gabriel nodded, satisfied. It wouldn’t do for Antoine to have a thrall in another’s territory without due notice—something Minh knew all too well. But Minh had been seeking conflict, while Antoine was keen to avoid it.

Bill folded with a resigned grunt, and Gabriel collected the pot, adding further to his lead.

The next hand was dealt in silence. Antoine hadn’t been there long enough to gauge whether the men played quietly or if they’d sensed the tension between Gabriel and him. He peeled back the corners of the two cards before him—an ace and a king.

“Raise,” he said, tripling the big blind.

The table folded in succession around to Gabriel on the small blind. “Hmm,” he said, thoughtfully. “That’s a real power-play. But I’ll call.”

Antoine kept his face neutral as the big blind folded. Was there hidden meaning in that comment? Had Gabriel already picked up on his power levels? If so, there was little he could do about it now.

“Two players,” the dealer announced, placing a king and two nines on the board. Gabriel checked, watching Antoine closely.

Antoine held two pairs with an ace kicker and pushed forward a third of his stack.

He was entirely indifferent; it was only a fifty-grand buy-in, and he had no interest in the present company.

He was eager to leave, return to his solitude, maybe even check on Cally.

Betting recklessly could get him there sooner—but not just any hand. He still had a reputation to maintain.

“Another power-play,” Gabriel commented dryly. “Call.”

The turn brought an ace, improving Antoine’s position. Gabriel’s repeated mention of power wasn’t lost on him; twice was no coincidence. He’d sensed something and he wanted Antoine to know.

Gabriel checked, and Antoine bet again. This time, Gabriel re-raised him. “You think you have something, but will it be enough?”

Antoine pushed all his chips forward, indifferent. If he won the hand, he’d be in for a while, but at least he’d have a shot at beating Gabriel. If not, he could go home. Gabriel’s not-so-cryptic comments were becoming tiresome.

“Call,” Gabriel said, turning over a nine and a king—a full house. Antoine was beaten unless he got lucky on the river.

Antoine turned over his cards and tapped the table, showing respect. “Nicely played.”

“Sometimes, the sensation of temporary power leads one to act rashly,” Gabriel smirked.

Antoine smiled ruefully. The river card was dealt: another king. Antoine had won with a higher full house, and his jaw tightened. He was now the chip leader, by a significant margin. It was going to be a long night.

“And sometimes, it seems, power lingers,” Gabriel said. “Do you think yours will last, Anthony?”

“I honestly don’t know, Gabe,” Antoine replied truthfully, stacking his winnings with a sense of resignation. “But while I have it, I may as well use it.”

Gabriel nodded, conceding both the exchange and the hand, and the dealer collected the cards.