Red Angel by Helen Harper Page A

murmurs. ‘It is, of course, a pleasure to have you here with us again. If there’s anything I can do to make your night more enjoyable, please let me know.’
    She melts away. I raise my eyebrows. ‘You come here often? With dates?’
    ‘A few times. I’m normally the one who’s acknowledged first,’ he jokes. ‘Being around you will be good for my ego.’
    ‘Is that a good idea?’ I ask tightly. ‘To come somewhere you’ve already been seen with other women?’
    A tiny smile plays around his mouth. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’
    ‘No,’ I snap. ‘This is make-believe, remember?’
    ‘So what’s your point?’
    ‘If you want people to believe this … relationship is special, then we should go somewhere new. Not where you take any old flame.’
    ‘Bo,’ he says with conviction, ‘this relationship is very special.’
    A heartbeat later there’s another camera flash, making me blink and look away. ‘Good work,’ I mutter. ‘At least that photo will make it look like we were staring into each other’s eyes.’
    His voice is low. ‘We were.’
    I’m rescued from having to say anything by a waiter who smoothly offers us a bottle of wine – ‘compliments of the manager’. I accept graciously and take a sip. It’s hard not to wince at its tartness.
    ‘You can send it back if you don’t like it,’ Michael says, amused.
    ‘I’m sure it’s lovely. It’s just not what I normally drink.’ I pat my mouth with my napkin to hide my expression of distaste.
    ‘We have some good vintages back at the mansion. There are some even better ones at my apartment. I’m sure I can find one that you’d enjoy.’
    I draw in a deep breath. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
    He raises his glass and chinks it against mine.
    A shadow falls across the table. ‘What are we drinking to?’
    Both Michael and I look up at the unwelcome interruption. ‘What do you want, Medici?’
    ‘Last time I checked, I was still Lord.’
    ‘Not mine,’ I spit.
    Kimchi, sensing my antagonism, jumps to his feet, hackles visibly raised. Several people at nearby tables recoil and there’s a further flurry of camera flashes from outside.
    ‘Now, now, Ms Blackman, there’s no need to be rude. Although perhaps that’s what comes from being the media’s darling.’ Medici’s cold eyes sneer at me. ‘It won’t last, you know. The more they love you now, the more they’ll hate you later when it all goes tits up. And it will go tits up. You’re far too reckless to stay on the straight and narrow for long.’
    ‘You know nothing about me.’
    ‘I know enough.’ He pulls over an empty chair and sits down next to us.
    ‘Lord Medici,’ Michael says, the venom in his voice clearly audible, ‘this is a private dinner. If you wish to speak with either of us, please make an appointment for a later date.’
    Medici looks like he’s enjoying himself far too much to consider leaving. I grab Kimchi’s collar and bring him round to the other side of the table so that he’s further away from the vampire Lord. The last thing I need is for him to bite and snap in full view of all these people. Medici would start crowing about the Dangerous Dogs Act before I could do a thing.
    ‘Come, come,’ he drawls. ‘We’re all friends now, aren’t we? Especially now that New Order includes all our representatives.’
    I forget to breathe. Is he admitting that he sent Dahlia to us?
    ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Michael interjects.
    Medici reaches over to Michael’s place setting and takes his napkin, carefully unfolding it and tucking it into his collar to form a bib. ‘I didn’t have much choice. Damn female fledgling ran away to join you, didn’t she? I should have known recruiting her would be a bad idea.’
    ‘You didn’t recruit her,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘You forced her.’
    He looks up as if trying to remember. ‘Oh yes. I’d forgotten that part.’ He gives me what is meant to be a charming smile. ‘Oh