Shades of Gray

Marisa blinked, and blinked again, relieved to find herself back in her own apartment. She reached for a light switch, but the two table lamps beside the sofa came on before she flipped the switch.



The lights came on in the kitchen, too, and then in her bedroom.



Slowly, she turned to look at Grigori. He gave her a shrug and an enigmatic grin.



Marisa glanced at the clock on the VCR. It was just after two a.m.



"What day is it?" she asked.



"Monday," Grigori replied.



"Monday!" It had been Wednesday when Alexi carried her off. She'd missed three days of work. What must her boss think? She went to check her messages on the answering machine. As she had expected, there were several from work, as well as one from her mother reminding her that she had promised to come for a visit over Christmas.



The lack of sleep and the events of the last few days caught up with her in a rush, draining her of energy. "I don't know about you two," she said, smothering a yawn, "but I've got to get some sleep."



"Yeah." Ramsey yawned, too, and then grinned at her. "I'm bushed. I'll pick you up tomorrow, at five."



Marisa nodded. "Okay. Good night, or good morning, or whatever it is."



Edward hesitated; then, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, he kissed her on the cheek. "Sweet dreams."



"You too."



With a curt nod in Chiavari's direction, Ramsey left the apartment.



"He's sweet on you, you know," Grigori remarked.



"I know."



"What are you going to do about it?"



"Nothing. He's a nice man and I like him a lot, but that's all there is to it." She yawned again. "I'm beat. Are you going to stay the night?"



He nodded.



"You can't keep watch over me every night."



"Can't I?"



"Do you think he'll come back?"



"I don't know." He crossed the few feet between them and gazed down at her. "Go to bed, Marisa. We can talk about it later."



She stared up at him. He was going to kiss her good night. Just thinking of it made her heart begin to pound in anticipation. It seemed as if she could feel a thousand butterflies in her stomach, their wings beating frantically.



She gazed into his eyes, deep, dark eyes filled with power and knowledge, smoldering with desire.



His hand cupped the back of her head, and then he was bending toward her, blocking everything from her vision but his face. His lips touched hers and it felt as if the earth were falling away again, leaving her adrift in a black sea where there was no up or down, no right or wrong, just the incredible touch of his mouth on hers.



She swayed against him, hardly aware she had moved. Her eyelids fluttered down. From far off, she heard the sound of a woman's voice moaning with pleasure and realized, in a distant part of her mind, that the sound was rising from her own throat.



His arm went around her waist. It was the only thing keeping her on her feet.



She lost track of time. Had his mouth been moving over hers for a minute? An hour? A lifetime? She didn't know, didn't care.



He swung her into his arms, his mouth never leaving hers, and carried her down the hall to the bedroom.



He drew back the covers, and then, very gently, lowered her to the bed. "Rest well, cara." He brushed a kiss across her forehead and drew the covers up to her chin.



She was asleep before he turned out the light.



Taking a deep breath, Marisa stepped into Mr. Salazar's office. "Good morning."



He sat back in his chair and looked up at her. He was a handsome man in his mid-fifties, with wavy black hair and dark brown eyes. Working out kept him fit and trim.



He regarded her through narrowed eyes. "I trust you have a valid explanation for your absence."



"Yes, sir. I was called out of town rather abruptly."



He tapped his forefinger against the phone on his desk. "You couldn't call?"



"I'm sorry, sir, I know I should have called and explained, but there just wasn't time."



"Don't let it happen again."



"Yes, sir."



"I need to see the Walburg deposition this morning. And I'll need a copy of the Meekins bankruptcy. Oh, and call the Brownes and tell them I can't meet with them tomorrow afternoon. Ask them if Friday is all right."



"Yes, sir."



"And bring me a cup of coffee when you have time."



"Yes, sir."



He jerked his head toward the door. "Get on it."



With a nod, Marisa left the office, quietly closing the door behind her.



"Well, did he fire you?"



"No," Marisa said, grinning at Linda Hauf. Linda was married and had four sons. She had begun working for Salazar and Salazar two years ago, when her youngest son graduated from high school. It had started out as a part-time thing, but then Joe Salazar's secretary had quit and he had asked Linda if she wanted to work full-time. She and Linda had become good friends in the last year, although they didn't see each other much outside of the office.



"You're lucky," Linda said, rolling her eyes. "You should have heard him ranting and raving on Friday. I was sure you were history."



"He can't fire me," Marisa replied, laughing. "I know where all the bodies are buried." She regretted her choice of words as soon as she said them.



"So, where were you?"



"I got called out of town." Way out of town, Marisa mused. Standing here, surrounded by all the technology the world had to offer, her trip to the past seemed like a dream, but it had been all too real. "I'll talk to you at lunch."



"Right."



Back at her desk, Marisa located the Walburg deposition and the Meekins bankruptcy forms, poured a cup of coffee, no sugar, heavy on the milk. She delivered the papers and the coffee to Salazar, then went back to her desk and began answering the mail.



It was good to be back at work, good to be immersed in mundane, everyday matters.



She went to lunch with Linda. They ate at the mall across the street, and then wandered though one of the gift shops. Marisa bought a present for the office gift exchange, and picked out a delicate hand-painted teapot for her mother.



Returning to the office, she got caught up with the mail. She sat in on a meeting, taking notes. Salazar recorded all his meetings, but he still liked her to be there, to jot down pertinent points, to make note of their clients' reactions to things that were discussed.



Back at her desk, she typed up her notes, her mind straying, as it had several times that day, to Alexi. Where was he? Would he come back? What was she going to do about Edward and Grigori? She couldn't have them trailing after her day and night. Grigori had said Edward was sweet on her, and she didn't want to have to deal with that. Nor did she want to deal with Grigori. She was attracted to him in a way she'd never been attracted to another man, but he wasn't a man, he was a vampire.



She stared at the computer screen. She would tell them both tonight that she appreciated what they'd done, but that she didn't need them to shadow her every move.



She finished typing up her notes, dropped them on Salazar's desk, and bid him good night.



Edward was waiting for her outside. He was wearing a dark brown sweater, tan slacks, and loafers. He smiled when he saw her.



"I guess they didn't fire you after all," he remarked.



"No."



He opened the car door for her, then went around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. "So how was your day?"



"Fine. Busy." She smiled at him. "Lots of catching up to do."



Edward nodded. "Would you like to go out to dinner?"



"I don't think so."



His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Got a date with Chiavari?"



"No. Why?" She turned sideways in her seat. "You're not going to... Tell me you aren't."



"He's a vampire, Marisa. We've got to kill them before they kill us. It's as simple as that."



"No! I owe him my life."



"Dammit, Marisa, the man is evil."



"I don't believe that."



"You're in love with him, aren't you?"



"No!"



Edward pulled up in front of her apartment and switched off the engine. "Listen to me. He's a vampire. He's taken your blood. He can read your mind. He can make you do whatever he wants, make you think you're in love with him. You can't trust him, Marisa. You can't trust any of them! They aren't human. They have no morals, no qualms about taking whatever they want."



"Edward, I appreciate your concern and everything you've done for me, really I do, but - " She blew out a deep breath. "I don't think I want to see you again. Or Grigori, either. I just want to forget this whole thing ever happened."



"I can't just abandon you. What if Alexi comes back?"



"I don't know. Maybe he won't."



"And what if he does?"



"I guess I'll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it. All I know is, I can't go on like this, being afraid all the time."



Edward sighed heavily. "All right, Marisa, if that's what you want."



"I'm sorry, Edward."



"Yeah, me too." He smiled at her, a melancholy smile that filled her with guilt. "Take care."



"I will."



"Would it be all right if I called now and then, just to make sure you're all right?"



"Of course." She unfastened her seat belt, then leaned across the seat and kissed him on the cheek. "Good-bye, Edward."



"You've got my number, in case you need me?"



"Yes."



"Don't hesitate to use it."



"I won't." She opened the door and slid out of the car. "Good night."



"Good night, Marisa."



She stood on the curb, watching him drive away, wondering if she had done the right thing.



Inside her apartment, she slipped the soundtrack to Braveheart in the CD player. The movie had been a little too bloody for her taste, but the music was beautiful.



Changing out of her work clothes, she went into the kitchen and opened the fridge.



"Well, Mother Hubbard," she muttered, "it looks like the cupboard is bare."



Closing the door, she grabbed her purse and headed for Angelo's. She wasn't in the mood to be alone, anyway.



"Hey, sweet cheeks, long time no see."



Marisa smiled at the waiter. "How are you, Tommy?"



"Fine, as always. You're looking good."



"Well, so are you. I don't need a menu."



"No? Well, what'll it be?"



"Just a plate of spaghetti."



Tommy nodded as he wrote it down. "And a glass of chianti?"



"Right."



"You've got it."



Marisa sat back in the booth and looked out the window. Christmas music came over the speakers. Brightly colored Christmas lights adorned the storefronts across the street. Where had the year gone? She'd have to get busy and do some serious Christmas shopping soon. Buy some Christmas cards. Paper, tinsel...



"Hey, Marisa, why the long face?"



"Just tired, I guess."



"Well, enjoy your meal."



"Thanks, Tommy."



"Give a holler if you need anything."



"I will."



"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be eating alone."



Marisa was about to reply when a deep voice said, "I agree."



Glancing past Tommy, she saw Grigori standing in the aisle.



"Mind if I join you?" he asked.



"I guess not." She took a sip of her wine as he sat down across from her.



Tommy looked at Grigori. "Can I bring you anything tonight?"



"Just a glass of wine. Red. Very dry."



"Wine again," Tommy remarked with a shake of his head. "Don't you ever eat?"



"When necessary."



Tommy frowned, shook his head, and walked away from the table, muttering under his breath.



"It seems we've done this before," Grigori said.



Marisa nodded. It seemed like years had passed since that night instead of only weeks. So much had changed since then. Her whole world had been turned upside down.



"Where's Ramsey?"



"I sent him away."



"What do you mean?"



"I told him I didn't want a bodyguard anymore." She took a deep breath. "And I don't think you and I should see each other anymore, either."



Grigori stared at her, one black brow arching upward. "Indeed? May I ask why?"



She took another sip of wine, hoping it would calm her rapidly beating heart. "I'm beginning to feel claustrophobic."



"What of Alexi?"



"He's gone."



"Is he?"



"Isn't he?"



Grigori shrugged. "For the time being, it would seem so."



Tommy approached the table and placed a glass of dark red wine in front of Grigori. "Anything else I can get for either of you?"



Grigori shook his head, his gaze focused on Marisa.



"No, Tommy, thanks." She stared at her dinner, and then pushed the plate away, her appetite gone.



"Alexi will come back, you know."



"I'll worry about it when it happens. Until then, I don't want to think about vampires, or vampire hunters, or  -  "



"Or me?"



"Or you." Taking her wallet from her purse, she placed ten dollars on the table and stood up. "Good-bye, Grigori."



"I'll walk you home."



"It isn't necessary."



He watched her leave the restaurant, and then, with a sigh, he followed her out the door, careful to mask his presence. He paused when she reached her apartment, his senses probing the area, but he perceived no threat. He waited until she was safely inside, and then he made his way up the stairs. She might think the danger was past, that Alexi had given up, but Grigori knew better.



With a sigh, he sat down on the top stair and gazed out into the darkness. So she wanted to be rid of him, did she? He smiled at the stars, because he was not yet ready to be rid of her.