Vampire Bride

Chapter Nine

Charlie

No matter how much I don’t want another work week to start, it does. There are plenty of things to occupy my mind, but one thing keeps blocking my judgment…Maxwell. The screaming children at the birthday party I had this past Saturday kept me on my toes, though. The cries from the children made my head hurt and made it completely impossible to think about anything. However, the birthday party might have kept my mind in check, but Juliet kept my emotions in check.

She refused to call me about her talk with Wilson. She just sent an email that consisted of three words: you owe me. A few days later, I received phone calls from eager parents wishing to enlist their child for the party. She’s still angry with me for refusing to tell her anything about Maxwell, not as if I have a choice. I can’t flaunt a vampire in her face.

After almost two weeks of surprising him in his hotel room, I haven’t seen him since. All I can do to keep myself from going insane is count down the remaining hours to the next party. Thank goodness, it’s tomorrow.

I walk into the office to see Morgan behind her desk hard at work. “I didn’t think I was late,” I say as I stop by her desk.

“You’re not, I just came in early. I’m super excited about the party tomorrow night.” She bounces in her seat.

“Morgan, are you sure? It doesn’t start until ten in the evening; do you not have to go to church Sunday morning?” Any party that starts that late at night screams trouble and part of me wants to protect her.

“Yeah, but I’m going to stay as long as possible. I can’t miss anything that happens.” The innocent smile that spreads across her face makes me want to pinch her cheeks. Even though I feel the urge to treat her like my little sister, I don’t.

“We’ll see, Morgan.” I tap her shoulder gently before I make my way to my office. My feet stop abruptly in the doorway. My eyes can’t rip themselves away from the large wooden desk. “Morgan?” I hear her mumble ‘yup’ in reply. “Did you put this package on my desk?”

I hear her footsteps coming down the hall. “Package? I don’t know anything about a package.” She now stands beside me, staring at the blood red wrapped gift box lying perfectly centered on my desk.

“It wasn’t by the door or delivered by a postal man and you just forgot that you put it in here?” I question her.

“I think I would remember if I saw that wrapping paper. I mean…wow; it reminds me of blo—”

“You can go back to work now,” I say, cutting her off. I don’t need her to tell me that the color of the paper reminds her of blood. The mention of blood only leads to one person. I walk over to the box cautiously and place it aside as gently as possible as if it were a bomb. Forcing myself not to open it until I get home takes a toll on me and drains me of all energy. I like to think I have an exceptional amount of patience, but that package taunts me.

I can’t help but stare at it all day. There’s something about it that draws my curiosity in the worst way. Grateful once seven o'clock rolls around, I grab my purse and head up to the front door, more than ready to have this day end.

Morgan is nowhere in sight when I make my way to the front of the office. “Morgan?”

“I’m in the back. Just a sec.” Her hair is ruffled when she finally comes into view. A puff of air from between her pursed lips blows stray strands of hair out of her face. “Whew. Those boxes back there. Killer. Where’s your box? Did you open it?”

“Oh, it still must be in my office. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Don’t be silly, I can get it for you.” In a matter of seconds she reemerges with the red wrapped package.

“Thank you.” A fake smile spreads across my face.

“Just make sure to tell me what’s inside it.” Her index finger taps the corner of the box.

“Of course.”

“Goodnight, Charlie,” Morgan says before walking to her car.

“Goodnight, Morgan.” Not so gently, I put the box in the backseat so I don’t have to stare at it on my drive home. The dark sky and limited streetlights keep me from spying on the box in the rear-view mirror. Nonetheless, once I lock myself in the comfort of my home, I can’t help but to gawk at it once again. Sitting on the very edge of the couch, my eyes roam over the crisp red paper. Curious as to what’s inside, I’m also fearful of what I’ll find.

Shaky, unsteady hands extend outward to touch the wrapping. A frightful shudder washes over me just as two fingertips graze the paper the same moment the doorbell rings. My heart clenches in my chest, my lungs automatically get deprived of oxygen, and my joints freeze up as I will my body to answer the door. I assume it to be the worst person in the world since the sun just went down a little bit ago.

I don’t bother looking through the peephole. I just grab hold of the knob and slowly open the door. A hand pushes against the wood and forces it to open faster, followed by them inviting themselves in.

“Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Juliet says, closing the door behind herself.

Ghost…vampire, both are dead, does it matter. “Oh, it's just you.” I literally exhale in relief.

“Yeah, just me, don’t be so excited.” The sarcasm in her voice allows me to lighten up just the slightest.

“Not in a bad way. I’m actually glad it’s you and not somebody...else. Why are you not getting ready to go out tonight?” I know she should be arriving at the club in about an hour or so.

“I wanted to talk to you instead of partying like a good friend should do unlike the awful one I’ve been. Or am I intruding on something?” she asks, but plops herself on the couch without caring if she is or not. “What’s this?” She grabs the mystery package and shakes it near her ear as she tries to guess what’s inside.

“I don’t know. It was left at work for me today. Morgan doesn’t recall anybody leaving it and she didn’t move it, which makes me kind of scared to open it.”

“Are you saying you don’t know who left it?” she asks.

“Not exactly,” I reluctantly answer.

“So you do know who left it?” she questions yet again.

“Most likely.”

“Why so cryptic? Just open it. I want to see what’s inside.” She throws the box at me and the corner digs into my chest.

Gradually and unnecessarily cautious, I tear away the wrapping paper. Hesitation stops me from lifting the lid of a white box. Juliet nudges my arm with her elbow, urging me to continue. With closed eyes, I lift the lid only to slam it back down as I hear Juliet’s rush of air.

I need to hide whatever is in this box before she gets a better look at it, because there’s no way I can explain anything about it. Without warning, she rips the box away from me and digs her fingers inside. I scrunch in on myself to hide from her stare as she pulls out the mysterious gift. I quickly take a peek. She stands up and lays a beautiful navy and black lace dress up against her body. Acting like a little school girl, she twirls in place, admiring the dress as if she’s never seen anything like it before.

“It’s obviously from this mystery guy you refuse to tell me more about. He has spectacular taste. You hate him why?” She twirls some more, admiring the dress. A shrill whimper escapes her mouth as she goes a little overboard with the spinning and crashes into the corner of my coffee table. Hobbling on one leg, she still manages to keep the dress perfectly lined up to her body.

Stifling a giggle, I ignore her clumsiness. “He’s not all that he seems. Sure, he gives me a gorgeous dress, but he broke into my office to leave it for me.”

“However bad you think he is, maybe you should give him a chance.”

Her words cause an ice like freeze to paralyze me. If he didn’t already tell me that he can’t influence other people I would wonder if he talked to Juliet.

“I can tell that it’s a bad topic, so I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” She drapes the dress over the arm of the couch and walks toward the door.

“Wait, you can stay. I would like it if you stayed.” I would prefer her company more than being alone with my own thoughts. She wavers in the entryway, debating if she wants to stay. While she silently thinks about the offer, I grab the dress and shove it back in the box.

“Fine, but only because you asked so nicely. Along with the fact that we haven’t sat down and spent some quality friend time together in a while.”

Tossing the box aside, I rush back to Juliet, who has laid herself down on the couch. She fumbles with the remote in her hand and just like that a never-ending debate of which onscreen hottie is cuter.

Hours later Juliet bids her goodbyes. Not expecting anything less from her, she reminds me that I have to feed her next week. With a wave and a smile, she drives away, leaving me alone. I refuse to draw attention to the dress and go straight to sleep. My eyes might scan the half open box that lies on the kitchen table with the contents peeking out urging me to look further at it, but I don’t. I’m not giving him any more of my attention.

I’m eager yet apprehensive about the party tomorrow night and now knowing that Maxwell is lurking in the shadows makes sleep difficult. Staring at that dress and either admiring it or not only makes things worse.

I wake up later than expected, but since the client for the party tonight didn’t request outrageous details, the set-up won’t take long. What little they did want, I find to be useless, but they requested my help and I won’t turn them away. With nothing better to do, I lounge around most of the day, waiting until it’s time to get ready. Since the event is at the actual client’s house, I change into my appropriate party attire at home.

The sound of hangers scrapping against the rod as I rummage through my closet fills the room. Nothing seems good enough. My mind wanders to the dress that still resides in the box on the kitchen table. I weigh the options and decide that I’ll indulge myself. It’s not as if Maxwell will be seeing me, this is at someone’s house after all. He’d have to break into a stranger’s home, which is entirely different than showing up at a public venue and party crashing.

I slip into the dress, grab a pair of heels from my closet, and look at myself in the mirror. The fabric clings to every curve and I begin to second-guess my decision as I start feeling self-conscious. You only live once though. Walking confidently to the bathroom, I fix my hair into an up-do and apply a little blush. Thankfully, by the time I finish it’s time for me to leave. Less time to think about changing into something else.

Having never been to the part of town the client lives in, I find myself wonderstruck. The gated community is one of the most high-end neighborhoods I’ve come across and some of my clients are very wealthy. I don’t have trouble finding the address, but I do however have trouble finding a parking spot. The streets are packed as if the party has already started.

After finding a spot a couple of blocks away and making my way up the sidewalk, I spot Morgan loitering in front of the house we’re supposed to conduct the party at. My pace quickens as I want to talk with her before someone sees us out here.

“Is this a joke? The party is here, right? Because it looks as if it has already started,” Morgan asks me as I reach her with heavy breaths.

“You know what, go home.” I take in her angered stare. “Morgan, listen to me. Go home and I’ll talk to you later. I’ll pay you as if you were here and if you leave without a snide remark, I’ll pay you overtime. Understood.” The possible outcomes that this party could have make that sisterly instinct kick into overdrive. Nothing good can come out of this and bribing Morgan to leave is the best idea I can come up with.

“Yes, captain.” She hangs her head and walks toward her car.

I wait outside the front door of the house until I see her drive away. Before I have a chance to ring the doorbell or even knock the front door swings open to reveal a beautiful woman.

“You must be Charlie. You didn’t have to send your assistant away. I realize you’re confused and a little frightened about the start of the party before your arrival, but I assure you everything is fine. My name is Grace, by the way.” She waves me inside her home and as the door shuts behind me, I know something is not right.

Her demeanor, her smooth, seductive voice. She reminds me of a certain someone and a pit of dread forms in my stomach. As I follow her to the backyard, I scan her slender frame and her flowing golden blonde hair.

Once the backyard comes into view I know I’m over my head. I see several individuals already dancing and drinking. They’re all dressed to perfection and their movements are extremely crisp and elegant. Looking at all the creamy pale bodies that fill the spacious yard makes my heart beat harder and harder. I feel my hands get sweaty as my mind yells for me to run. I’m relieved that I sent Morgan home, but now that leaves me to face the trouble alone.