She narrowed her eyes. Surely Vivian didn’t mean the command the way it had sounded.
“Vampires of his age are no stranger to playing games with humans. If that amuses him while he looks for his match, then you will encourage it. You will flirt, you will smile, and if he wants you in his bed, you’ll go there, too.”
“Like hell I will,” Abbey snarled. “I’m an employee, not a whore.”
“Lucian Redgrave is not only a high-profile client, he is a powerful member of the supernatural community. He practically runs New York. You will do whatever the hell he wants you to do.”
“I won’t.”
Vivian’s smile was far from sweet. “It’s not just me you need to worry about, honey. Vampires like the hunt, the chase. Once he’s had you, I very much doubt he’ll have further use for you. I’m sure we’ll be able to assign a VIP rep after your novelty has worn off. Humans. You’re such lovely playthings. But don’t mistake his interest as anything more than that.”
“He’s not like that,” she said before she could call back the revealing words.
Vivian snorted. “Of course he is. Play this out, Abbey, and get us that contract. Just don’t let your emotions get involved. I like you, really I do. Take my advice. This won’t end well for you if you don’t get smart about Lucian.”
Abbey fought the urge to drop her jaw.
“Dismissed,” Vivian said, turning to her computer monitor.
Abbey left the office feeling numb. She knew how relationships with supernaturals worked. Hell, she’d comforted sobbing humans calling in about dates gone bad all the time. Her lifespan was a blip in the timeline for Lucian. Not that she cared. No way she’d let herself get involved with him.
Ducking around the edge of the party, she slipped into her quiet office. Abbey collapsed on her chair and glanced at the profile she’d left open on the computer. Lucian stared back from the screen, a slight smile curving his lips as he posed for the camera. They’d found an old picture of him from an interview and uploaded it to his account.
She nibbled on her lower lip before quickly logging in to her account and navigating back to Lucian’s page. Her cursor hovered over the bright-red match button on the screen.
She didn’t do vampires. It wouldn’t matter what their match rating was. Besides, she doubted it would be higher than the 90 percent necessary to date him. Still, curiosity ate at her.
Holding her breath, she clicked the button and waited as the screen refreshed to display their compatibility rating.
Forty-seven percent.
The slight hope she’d refused to acknowledge died a quick death. Lucian Redgrave was far beyond her reach in all things. Perhaps Vivian was right. If she was stupid enough to fall any more in lust with him, he’d chew her up and spit her out.
If she was smart, she’d do her job and hold him at arm’s length. Despite Vivian’s warnings, Abbey didn’t believe refusing him would have any negative consequences. He wasn’t that sort of man.
But knowing how wrong they were for each other didn’t erase the memory of his lips on the back of her hand.
…
Lucian’s car pulled up to the address Abbey had sent him. Knowing he’d be moving in the human world, he’d gone a little more casual than he usually preferred. His cravat was still perfect, but he’d chosen a suit coat instead of his evening jacket and slacks instead of breeches. His lips curved as he thought of meeting his little matchmaker again. Would she appreciate his extra effort?
With a nod to his driver, he ducked out of the car and headed for the salon before him. With every step he felt his ever-present boredom lessen. This matchmaking business might be a sham, but spending a month in the human’s company was no chore. Women had changed since his time, but he found he liked Abbey’s backbone, her fire. She wouldn’t be easily won.
His fangs ached at the thought of her surrender. How sweet it would be. That was, if he could get her over her ridiculous ban against vampires.
He pushed through the glass door and stepped into a brand-new world. Mortals rushed by, scissors in hand. Bright lights lit large mirrors anchored before swiveling chairs, and hair dusted the white floor. For a moment he wondered if he had the right address.
“Mr. Redgrave,” a voice called. One he recognized instantly.
With a smile, he turned toward Abbey.
She was dressed professionally in a gray button-down dress with bright-blue buttons running from neck to hem, as if she couldn’t stand to be wearing only one color. The gray wasn’t right for her and he wondered if she’d chosen it on purpose. It didn’t matter if she had. The color choice wasn’t enough to halt his attraction.