bow on the bottom. Her hair was lush—a beautiful golden yellow like the perfect strand of wheat. It shined in the light and rested in curling waves down to her waist. Yes, down to her waist!
The paparazzi followed her for a reason and not because she had more money than the Monopoly guy, but because of how she looked. She looked perfect, and that was only her face. Her body matched her face in its stunning loveliness. Tall, elegant, refined, and with more class than Jackie-O, Julianna made lovely pictures. Pictures the rest of society without as much money and good looks stared longingly at and pretended to hate.
Really it wasn’t fair to the rest of the women in the world to have to compare to women like Julianna Greenwich. Not fair at all.
In fact, Felicity decided she might just hate her.
“Thank you for joining us tonight. I’m looking forward to hearing about your previous work experience and seeing some of your designs,” his mother said with a smile. She had the kind of polite smile that had been refined through years of having political friends and throwing strategic parties. Felicity suspected Lady Blackmoore was a master at hiding her true feelings.
A moment later, a soft knock sounded at the door and Ian shuffled in carrying a silver tray with a crystal decanter and four glasses. Felicity watched the blood-filled decanter with longing, her tongue watering. She hadn’t fed that morning because she was out of blood again, but she hoped to rectify that problem tonight. She’d get this job, get paid upfront, and buy some of her favorite blood—AB. Lots of it. Maybe she’d even buy crates of it she could stack up in her spare bedroom for safekeeping.
Felicity watched Lady Blackmoore sit at the edge of her seat as she efficiently poured four glasses of blood. She filled each of the glasses so that the blood stopped at exactly a quarter inch from the rim. The entire time Felicity watched Lady Blackmoore’s elegant movements, she could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t need to shift her gaze to know it was him. No one could look at her and make her feel heat from just looking. No one except Dominic Blackmoore.
Lady Blackmoore passed the crystal glasses one at a time and as Felicity took hers, her eyes betrayed her and swept to Dominic. What she saw made her freeze, made her gut clench, and her body respond in a flush of wet heat.
His low-hooded eyes were fixed on her with a burning fire of their own. Only this time it wasn’t in anger. It was pure sex. A look that said he was visually fucking her with his imagination right now. He snagged the glass from his mother, his eyes never leaving hers, and he brought it to his full sexy mouth and drank from it without ever taking his eyes off her.
They might as well be the only ones in the room. The air was so thick it felt like fog covered them. A sensual fragrance filled the air—musky, sweet, and raw. Dominic’s nostrils flared as he inhaled the same fragrance she did. His eyes closed in an expression she could only describe as pained ecstasy before they flung open to devour her.
Felicity jerked her gaze away, a bright red flush coating her cheeks. The blush shamed her even more because she didn’t know whether it was from his look or because his mother shot them both a cowing glance.
Felicity forced herself to pull her gaze away. She was supposed to be torturing him not the other way around and as it stood right now, the memory of this night and the palpable intensity in the room would never be forgotten.
“I’ve heard you have quite the eye for refined, large parties,” Lady Blackmoore said.
Felicity’s eyes wanted so badly to pull back to Dominic. To see what he was thinking and to see if he was still staring at her. A niggling doubt sprung. What if this was all some joke on his part? After all, his bruid was sitting in the same room as them. This could all be faked, his way to toy with her after their encounter yesterday.
“Yes, I do. Call
The paparazzi followed her for a reason and not because she had more money than the Monopoly guy, but because of how she looked. She looked perfect, and that was only her face. Her body matched her face in its stunning loveliness. Tall, elegant, refined, and with more class than Jackie-O, Julianna made lovely pictures. Pictures the rest of society without as much money and good looks stared longingly at and pretended to hate.
Really it wasn’t fair to the rest of the women in the world to have to compare to women like Julianna Greenwich. Not fair at all.
In fact, Felicity decided she might just hate her.
“Thank you for joining us tonight. I’m looking forward to hearing about your previous work experience and seeing some of your designs,” his mother said with a smile. She had the kind of polite smile that had been refined through years of having political friends and throwing strategic parties. Felicity suspected Lady Blackmoore was a master at hiding her true feelings.
A moment later, a soft knock sounded at the door and Ian shuffled in carrying a silver tray with a crystal decanter and four glasses. Felicity watched the blood-filled decanter with longing, her tongue watering. She hadn’t fed that morning because she was out of blood again, but she hoped to rectify that problem tonight. She’d get this job, get paid upfront, and buy some of her favorite blood—AB. Lots of it. Maybe she’d even buy crates of it she could stack up in her spare bedroom for safekeeping.
Felicity watched Lady Blackmoore sit at the edge of her seat as she efficiently poured four glasses of blood. She filled each of the glasses so that the blood stopped at exactly a quarter inch from the rim. The entire time Felicity watched Lady Blackmoore’s elegant movements, she could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t need to shift her gaze to know it was him. No one could look at her and make her feel heat from just looking. No one except Dominic Blackmoore.
Lady Blackmoore passed the crystal glasses one at a time and as Felicity took hers, her eyes betrayed her and swept to Dominic. What she saw made her freeze, made her gut clench, and her body respond in a flush of wet heat.
His low-hooded eyes were fixed on her with a burning fire of their own. Only this time it wasn’t in anger. It was pure sex. A look that said he was visually fucking her with his imagination right now. He snagged the glass from his mother, his eyes never leaving hers, and he brought it to his full sexy mouth and drank from it without ever taking his eyes off her.
They might as well be the only ones in the room. The air was so thick it felt like fog covered them. A sensual fragrance filled the air—musky, sweet, and raw. Dominic’s nostrils flared as he inhaled the same fragrance she did. His eyes closed in an expression she could only describe as pained ecstasy before they flung open to devour her.
Felicity jerked her gaze away, a bright red flush coating her cheeks. The blush shamed her even more because she didn’t know whether it was from his look or because his mother shot them both a cowing glance.
Felicity forced herself to pull her gaze away. She was supposed to be torturing him not the other way around and as it stood right now, the memory of this night and the palpable intensity in the room would never be forgotten.
“I’ve heard you have quite the eye for refined, large parties,” Lady Blackmoore said.
Felicity’s eyes wanted so badly to pull back to Dominic. To see what he was thinking and to see if he was still staring at her. A niggling doubt sprung. What if this was all some joke on his part? After all, his bruid was sitting in the same room as them. This could all be faked, his way to toy with her after their encounter yesterday.
“Yes, I do. Call
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