Chapter 18

With Beckham occupied with work, Reyna hadn’t found time to tell him about Rowland. Maybe she was avoiding it. She didn’t really want to recount what had happened. Beckham was overly protective, and she would rather stay under the radar about it all.

But as the days grew closer and closer to the ball, her anxiety peaked. She didn’t want to see Rowland and have his disgusting eyes on her. She had scrubbed herself clean all afternoon to get over the feel of his hands touching her. To rid herself of the desire clear on his face.

She spent more time with her camera after that, to avoid revealing to Beckham what had happened. The driver had agreed to stop at another clothing store, where she picked up a few plain T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, a baseball cap, and her coveted Converse. She had stashed all of those clothes in a hiding spot where hopefully no one else would find them and throw them away. On the rare occasion that Beckham was home when she was planning to head out, she would stash her street clothes in an oversized bag and change in the car.

It was hard enough getting pictures the way she wanted without standing out like a sore thumb. She never again wanted to encounter what had happened when she had gone back to the Warehouses dressed in silk and heels. She might have a bodyguard, but she knew people were not forgiving of the wealthy in this environment. And she could hardly blame them. She didn’t want their anger to come down on her.

And the pictures she wanted to take weren’t nice normal pictures of the city. She preferred the ones that showcased the true heart of the city, sort of like the black-and-white ones hanging in Beckham’s living room. She wanted to capture what was really happening. She wanted to find her perspective.

Most of her time was spent trying to take pictures of the poor, the homeless, the beggars, blood whores, starving vampires, human–vampire interaction on every level. She wanted to remember what it felt like to see these people. She never wanted to become the establishment or forget where she came from.

Every afternoon after she finished with her shots, she downloaded them to her computer and uploaded them to a secure site Beckham had started for her to organize her photos. He had done it all without even asking her. She figured he was worried she would fuck up and reveal who she was…not that it even mattered. It was just pictures of the reality of city life.

But no matter what she did to occupy her time, the night of the ball approached. She had officially been in Beckham’s penthouse nineteen days. He hadn’t tasted one drop of her blood…and they had barely seen each other the last five days. She was both excited and anxious to spend the entire evening with him.

Beckham had hired a team of artists to do her hair and makeup for the event. When they finished and she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her hair was piled high on her head in an intricate creation exposing her neck and collarbones, she noted anxiously. Her eyes were smoky and sultry and her face a perfect mask of porcelain. She hoped he approved.

Swallowing back her anticipation she left her room, to find Beckham leaning against the kitchen bar in a tuxedo, completely engrossed in his cellphone.

“Well?” she asked, turning slowly in her ball gown. She had finally decided on a floor-length, strapless, black and rose-gold lace dress that shimmered with her movement. It hugged her curves and transformed her figure in the most flattering of manners. It had a tasteful slit up the right side, which revealed the strappy black heels beneath.

She could feel Beckham’s eyes on her, but he remained silent. And when she finally stopped her circuit, she stared into his eyes and saw hunger…desperate hunger…reflected back.

“Is it okay?”

“You look…exquisite,” he said.

She beamed at his approval. It was the most he had said to her in days.

He offered her his arm, and she rested her hand lightly on his sleeve, letting him draw her out of the apartment. They didn’t speak in the car. She was too nervous about what was about to happen. She had never been to a ball before and wasn’t sure what it was going to be like or how to behave. Couple that with her fears about Rowland and she was completely on edge.

When they pulled up to the giant building, Beckham helped her out of the car. A red carpet was rolled out for them, and as they passed the sea of reporters, cameras flashed, capturing their every movement. Beckham kept a tight grip on her hand. She felt safe in his grasp and wished he were like this all the time. But it was futile to wish for something that would never be.

Inside, the ballroom was enormous. The biggest room she had ever seen. The lighting was dim and crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting soft light on the crowd. Beautiful men in black tuxedos and women in tiny black skirts and white button-ups carried platters full of hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Glitz and glamour was everywhere, from gold-crusted champagne flutes to glittering diamonds on all the women. No expense had been spared for an event that had been planned in just a few weeks.

The room was already filled with Visage employees, celebrities, and important political figures. It was both incredible and overwhelming.

“Wow,” she murmured.

“A bit pretentious, don’t you think?”

She startled and looked up at Beckham. Had he just made fun of the party for his boss?

She laughed softly, loosening up a bit. “A bit.”

“Let’s go make nice,” he muttered under his breath.

Beckham meandered them lazily through the crowd. Everyone seemed to know Beckham and want a few minutes of his time. At every turn, he stopped to say hello to a different person, and she was introduced to more people than she would ever remember. They were a blur of faces and tuxedos and ball gowns. All vampires. The only humans in the whole place were the servers, entertainment, and herself.

They finally made it to the front of the room and to his boss, Mr. Harrington.

“Beckham!” he cried. They shook hands like old friends. “I see you’ve brought the lovely Reyna. Rowland and Cassandra have just shown up with their Permanents. We’ve had a few others roll into the program as well, and they should be in attendance tonight. Jesse, I believe, was bringing his subject.”

“That’s great to hear, sir,” Beckham responded cordially. “Everything working out with all the new positions?”

“As good as we could hope. One had to be taken back,” Harrington said flippantly. It didn’t seem to occur to him that he was talking about a human being. Or if it did…he didn’t care. “They didn’t seem to work out. No worries though. Everyone else seems fine. Once the Blood Census goes into effect, we can start rolling this out company-wide.”

Beckham nodded. “Sounds like another success.”

“Indeed. Well, I need to go prepare for my big speech.” He nodded at Reyna once more and then disappeared.

“Reyna!” Sophie called, running up to her and kissing her on both cheeks. “I didn’t see this gown. I’m so jealous. That cow didn’t want me to have it, obviously.”

“You look beautiful, Sophie. Eclipsing, of course,” Reyna said.

“Of course,” she said, beaming.

And then Rowland snaked his nasty arm around Sophie’s waist and drew her close to him. “I have to agree. Innocent virginal white suits you, ma chérie,” he purred against her skin.

Reyna instinctively moved closer to Beckham. Her body tensed and felt coiled like a snake ready to strike. Everything about Rowland set her on edge, and it was worse because Beckham only vaguely knew how much of a threat he was. She was mentally chastising herself for not clueing him in. Especially as Rowland’s eyes crawled her outfit. She shuddered. She hated the way he looked at her.

“And you…” Rowland smirked. “You chose a different dress.”

“The other one made me feel uncomfortable,” she said pointedly.

“Either way. It’s a good choice. Beckham, your girl looks like a dream, don’t you think?”

Beckham had been staring off and away at that moment, but suddenly he snapped back to attention. His eyes landed on Reyna, and everything narrowed down to him. Only him.

“A dream. A daydream,” he agreed. “And a nightmare.”

“Her or you, Anderson?” Rowland asked. He laughed as if what Beckham had said was a joke. Reyna knew it was not.

“Me, of course,” Beckham said. “I’m the one with the fangs.”

“Right you are! At least nightmares get the blood pumping,” Rowland said devilishly.

“Excuse me.” Beckham placed his hand on her arm, and she jolted from the sparks that flew between them. She met his heated gaze. “I’m going to…get a drink. Would you like anything?”

“Yes, please.”

“Champagne?”

She nodded. “All right.”

She watched him leave, her heart beating furiously in her chest. How did one touch ignite her so? How could his words and actions be so contradictory?

Her eyes followed his progress across the room.

“And you say you’re not fucking,” Sophie said crudely.

“Sophie!” she snapped.

“What? Just look at the way he looks at you! That’s a man ready to eat you right up.”

Reyna looked over at Rowland anxiously and then back to Sophie. “You are ridiculous. It’s not like that…at all.”

Such a lie.

“Tell yourself whatever you want, but in that dress every guy in the room is watching you,” Sophie said with a hint of jealousy. “And Beckham is not blind.”

“He might as well be,” she grumbled.

“Oh, but he’s not,” Rowland said, walking past Sophie. When he moved into position right next to Reyna, he leaned forward and breathed into her ear, “Nor am I.”

Reyna shivered in disgust and yanked away from him hard. Sophie glanced between them, but either she was a twit and didn’t understand Rowland’s objective or she didn’t care so long as he continued to buy her expensive clothing.

“I will find you later, love,” he murmured. “Be sure of it.”

Rowland wandered off, but Reyna couldn’t eradicate the sinking feeling of despair at his words. She needed to find Beckham and fast. The last thing she ever wanted was to be alone with Rowland. She cast her eyes around the room, looking for Beckham. His height and bulk made him easy to pick out, even in a room full of vampires. He was standing at the bar with a glass of some kind of whiskey in his hand. She watched him tip back the entire glass, grimace slightly, and then pass it back to the bartender, who refilled it quickly.

The bartender began filling a glass flute with champagne when a woman approached Beckham. He spoke with her comfortably, relaxing in a way he never did around Reyna. The woman placed her hand on his sleeve, and he didn’t move it. What the hell?

Even from behind, Reyna could tell she was pretty. Her dress was solid royal blue with a tight bodice and empire waist, with ruched taffeta to the floor. Her hair was held up in some fancy design off her neck, but still let some of the loose dark curls fall down her back.

Then she turned around and Reyna’s mouth fell open slightly. She was not pretty. This woman was dazzling. Slender like a ballerina with a perfect heart-shaped face, button nose, and full pink lips.

She seemed to be searching someone out, but finally shrugged and said something to Beckham. To Reyna’s surprise, he tilted his head back and laughed.

Beckham laughed.

She couldn’t rectify that with the Beckham she knew. He never laughed. He was stern and solemn. There was no humor in him at all. In fact, as far as she knew, he didn’t even like people talking to him. Let alone trying to make him laugh.

Without even realizing it, ice seemed to fill her veins. All the heat that Beckham swept through her system was replaced by this ache…this inexplicable ache. Who was this woman?

“Sophie,” she murmured, trying to keep herself calm. “Who is that vampire woman?”

“Which one?” She looked around to try to figure out who Reyna was talking about.

“The one talking with Beckham at the bar.”

“Oh,” Sophie said softly. She looked at Reyna with stark sympathy on her face.

“What?”

“That’s Penelope Sky.”

“Penelope Sky.” Why did that name sound familiar?

“Yeah. She’s the mayor’s daughter. And human not vampire,” Sophie corrected.

“Human,” Reyna said hollowly. Beckham was that comfortable with another human, and he couldn’t even get near her! What the hell? How did it even make sense?

“Yeah,” Sophie said. She patted Reyna’s arm twice.

“Well, he seems awfully comfortable.”

“Not surprising since they’ve been dating on and off for at least a year,” she said as if it were the most normal thing.

“What?” Reyna cried.

Shock hit her like a tidal wave. Beckham was dating someone?

After the kiss that they had shared, she was sure she was breaking ground with him. Now, she was second-guessing everything. He didn’t feel comfortable with her. He didn’t even want to be around her. He avoided her, kept her at a distance, and he had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want anything to do with her besides a professional relationship. All because he was dating Penelope Sky. The mayor’s daughter. Fuck…it hurt. Way worse than she thought it would.

“Honestly, do you not pay attention to tabloids?” Sophie asked.

“No…”

“They were the talk of the town this summer. A human and a vamp. As you can imagine, it was everywhere. I guess you don’t get that information outside of the city.”

“I guess not,” she said softly. Her stomach was in knots. Beckham had never mentioned that he was dating anyone. He had never mentioned anything though. Why was she even surprised?

“Well, it fizzled out for a while, but it looks like they’re back on. Maybe that’s why he’s not fucking you,” she said crassly.

Reyna paled. “We’re not like that, Sophie. Whether he’s with her or not.”

Sophie patted her hand again sympathetically. “Whatever you say. But I’m glad I’m not competing with…that.”

That was the understatement of the century. Competing with Penelope Sky was like competing with the sun.

Reyna tried to pull her attention from them, but she couldn’t help but watch him. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, the easy way that his breath hit her skin, the way she smiled up at him like a lover…with the effortlessness that came with intimate familiarity.

She had about had her fill when Beckham seemed to notice her stare. Their eyes met across the room, and her cheeks heated. Then he smiled, a dangerous wicked smile, and started walking Penelope across the room…straight toward her.