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Charlotte was a high-school music teacher when Nicholae Dragomir found her and charmed his way into managing her career. She’s happy with minor fame until she meets Simon, a mysterious Englishman she’s irresistibly drawn to.
Simon lost his wife Caroline in 1530 to a devastating curse—she’s reincarnated every generation with no memory of him and he spends his days trapped as a statue. If they don’t fall in love again by her twenty-fifth birthday, the search starts all over.
When Simon hesitates to divulge his past to Charlotte, it sends her straight into Nicholae’s arms—a vampire in Lady Juliet’s clan—and a path of destruction. Simon, Agent Seven, and Adam must save Charlotte in time or she and Simon will be cursed forever.
This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult situations.
Charlotte and Simon's first meeting:
The food was such
an enjoyment; she came back for dinner at La Bistecca in the upper level when
Nicholae begged off for “business concerns”.
“No lady as lovely
as you should dine alone.” The statement
came from a man at a table adjacent to hers.
On a weeknight, the hotel restaurant was almost empty.
“Beg pardon?” She turned to the speaker.
Neatly-trimmed black
beard and shoulder-length black hair.
Though he wore a button-down shirt and slacks, there was an Old World quality to his face, like he belonged on a
vintage painting or a TV show about knights or something. That vibe was an interesting juxtaposition
with his smooth skin and no gray or white in his hair or beard. If he was thirty-five, every woman in the
city would kill for his dermatologist.
“That was probably
a bit forward, wasn’t it? If you wouldn’t mind some company, I’d be happy to
join you—unless you’re expecting someone.”
“Do I know you,
sir?” She peered at him. Something felt familiar. She wasn’t in danger in a populated restaurant,
but the request was something she wasn’t used to—men had certainly paid her
attention before, when she had the time to date, but… “You know what? Pull up a chair.”
No risk, no reward. And there was something beautiful about this
man close up.
“You’re most kind,
Miss…” The man moved his plate and glass
to the seat across from her.
“Charlotte
“Simon Cole.” He extended a hand, which she shook. It was warm, unlike Nicholae’s. “So, Miss Charlotte, what brings you to the
City of Angels
The first thing
that came to mind about him was pleasant. His voice, his smile, the twinkle in his
eyes…she suddenly didn’t mind the intrusion at all.
“Business. And
you, Mr. Cole?”
“It’s Simon,
please. A bit of both, really… I’m searching for something.”
“Ooo, a treasure
hunt?”
“The very dearest
of treasures.” He said it with such
reverence. Wow.
The waiter came to
take her order. She hadn’t looked at the
menu yet and picked something at random to make him go away. “Now you’ve peaked my interest. Are you some
kind of collector?”
“No…the item in
question was stolen from me many years ago. I live in hope of reclaiming it.”
“It’s that
precious to you.”
He met her
eyes. “More than I can describe.” The depth of feeling in his voice…whatever
he’d lost must be very personal, a family heirloom or gift of significance,
perhaps.
“I hope you find
it,” she said, and meant it.
“Thank you. So,
what kind of business are you in?”
“I play the
piano.”
“I imagine you
play quite well to stay in such elegant surroundings,” he said, nodding to the
opulence around them.
“I do
alright.” It was Nicholae that always
chose the posh accommodations.
“Modest and beautiful. My lucky night.”
She blushed and
reached for her water. How long did it
take to make a plate of pasta?
Simon’s eyes
twinkled over the rim of his wine glass.
All men were rascals, looking for any opportunity to turn a woman
pink. She’d wished for dark skin in high
school just so it wouldn’t show when she was embarrassed. Which was often back then.
Clearing her throat,
she said, “You’re obviously not from around here, so where is home?”
“England
“Well, duh.” Even she could tell that.
He chuckled. “Touché. But true. I’ve lived in many
places.”
“London
He nodded. “The longest, I think. And you’re not a
native of California
Good ear. “Raised in Oklahoma
“Oh?” His brows rose.
She shrugged. “Never seen my birth certificate. My parents
adopted me as a baby. I left to go to college. Haven’t been back.”
“Did they
approve?”
“Mom did. She
calls me a star now. She was always that mother that was too involved, wanting
the best solos, the best costume, coaching my performances…”
“Sounds charming,”
he said, laughing. “Yet you still play.”
Even his laughter
was musical.
“Only recently. I
started out as a teacher.” The waiter
finally brought her plate. “Thank
you.” He nodded and left.
Simon leaned
in. “An educator. Do you miss the
children?”
She paused after
taking a bite. “Sometimes. This started
as a summer gig, but the paychecks kept coming in. Nicholae has been good to
me.”
“Oh.” His smile dimmed. “Boyfriend?”
“My manager. I’m
single. It’s been a busy year.”
He smiled, looking
relieved. “But not too busy for a lovely
supper. My luck strikes again. How are you at cards?”
“Funny.”
A dimple appeared
in his beard. “People don’t often
appreciate that. I have a friend who thinks I was put on Earth specifically to
annoy him.”
“That’s rather
self-involved,” she teased.
“You don’t know
the half of it. I’d be in your debt if you could tell him you found me quite
charming.”
She shook her fork
at him. “Night’s not over, yet, Simon.”
“Oh, the lady doth
wound,” he said, clutching his chest.
“Drama queen.”
And yes, very charming. His hope
she was unattached gave her more confidence to flirt.
One elbow on the
table, he propped his cheek on his fist.
“You have the prettiest smile.”
From anyone else, it’d sound like a line, but he was completely sincere,
saying it as a statement of fact.
Sweetness. They could be two innocent teenagers in this
moment. She swooned inside. “Are you always so sweet to women?”
“There was only
one.”
Was? “I’m sorry.”
“No need to
be.” He kept his voice light. “The piano—are you here to perform or
record?”
She told him all
about the concert with the Philharmonic and what she was working on. He was a good listener, only interrupting to
ask for clarification. They ordered
dessert, then coffee, and before she knew it, the staff was warning them about
closing time at ten.
“Oh, my gosh, I
didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Early start
tomorrow?”
Standing for the
first time, she got to see how tall he was in relation to her. Average, about five-foot-nine or ten at the
most. It was nice to not have to crane
her neck up so much to look a man in the face.
He wasn’t large in build, either.
Hugging big men made her feel smothered.
“No, but Nicholae
doesn’t like me out at night. I told my bodyguard he could stay upstairs since
I wasn’t leaving the building, but I’m surprised they haven’t come looking for
me.”
They walked out to
the lobby.
“Are you allowed
to have any fun?” Simon asked.
“Yes. Sometimes.”
“The bar is still
open.”
“I don’t drink.” Much.
Definitely not with strange men.
“Not what I
asked.” He winked.
Argh, he was so
tempting. She’d never enjoyed a man’s
company so much before.
“I’d love to talk
some more, but…”
“You’re expected.”
“Yeah.” And regretting it for the first time.
He leaned in, his
voice taking on a conspiratorial whisper.
“I’ve heard of this amazing device for exchanging information. They call
it the telephone.”
She shook her
head. “You don’t do subtle at all, do
you?”
“Rarely.”
Upgrading opinion
from pleasant to cheeky. “Fine. I’ll
check in.”
Simon stayed where
he was, hands in his pockets, while she walked to the front desk and asked them
to call her room. Reed answered.
“Hey, just letting
you know I’m not lost or dead. I’m still downstairs.” She hung up before he or Nicholae started
asking questions. A part of her wanted
to keep this date to herself and she went with that feeling.
Simon offered his
arm when she returned and they strolled to the bar. The hotel had been here since the ‘20s and
displayed the pinnacle of Art Deco elegance.
The Gallery Bar was heavily detailed, with oak paneling and carved
angels floating above the granite bar.
Every seat was leather.
It was classy and
romantic.
“The Cognac Room
is a bit quieter,” he said, and led her to the smaller lounge filled with
Biltmore memorabilia and soft couches.
“They have a live band on the weekends.”
“You’ve been here
before?”
“Read the
brochure.”
“Ah. What did it
say they play?”
“A mix of jazz,
blues, and rock. Shame this is a Thursday night.”
“Why, would you
ask me to dance?”
“Hypothetically.”
“Ohh, hypothetically. Well, if you
hypothetically asked, I might hypothetically agree.”
He smiled, and she
felt warm. “I’ll remember that.”
“I don’t know how
long I’m staying after the concert tomorrow. We normally leave the next
morning, but I have a cousin in town and Nicholae said there could be room in
the schedule. We could meet for breakfast?”
His cheerful
demeanor dimmed. “I can’t.”
“Oh.” Here it comes.
“I want to. I’d love to,” he hurried to say. “I’ll just be otherwise engaged.”
Bummer.
“I understand.”
He chuckled. “You’re adorable. And I’m keeping you past
your bedtime, aren’t I?”
She stifled a
yawn. “I’m sorry. You’re not boring me,
I promise.” The evening had been so
nice, but she was already pushing her luck, and it had been an early morning.
“May I see you to
your door?”
“Thank you.”
Their leisurely
goodbye ended when she saw Nicholae get out of the elevator. “I have to go.” She hurried away before he saw Simon.
“Charlotte
“I’m sorry, I have
to go,” she called over her shoulder.
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