Chapter 42
Zane cut her off. "I don't want to talk about it. So, either you stop asking about it or I'll drive you home now."
Portia clamped her mouth shut and nodded.
A few moments later, Zane stopped the car and turned off the engine.
"There's a great view of the Golden Gate Bridge from here."
He opened the door and climbed out. Portia followed him and crossed the street. Beyond it was another hole of the golf course, and past that she saw the San Francis...o...b..y and the Golden Gate Bridge which stretched over its entrance. Illuminated by lights, it shone in red and orange colors.
"It's beautiful," she admitted, and stopped next to Zane.
"Beauty has its price. Eleven men died during construction."
Portia sighed. "Do you always have to see the negative in everything?"
"I try not to forget that where there is beauty, misery isn't far behind."
"Have you always been a pessimist?"
"Only youth is optimistic because they don't know any better," he countered.
"And you do?"
He nodded. "I've seen more in my life than I ever cared to see."
"But not everything can have been as bad as you make it out to be. You must have experienced good things: friends.h.i.+p, love."
If only he would allow her closer, perhaps she could be the one who he would share those emotions with. The cool night air made her s.h.i.+ver, or maybe it was the tension between them that suddenly made the air between them seem to tingle.
"It's getting late. I should get you home. You've got cla.s.ses tomorrow."
The moment was gone. Zane wouldn't let her get any closer tonight, she understood that much about him. She might as well pack up and save her energy for tomorrow night.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
It was still dark outside when Oliver showed up to relieve him. He looked tired, and Zane felt compelled to ease his mind.
"She won't give you any trouble today."
Oliver raised a doubting eyebrow. "Right." Shrugging off his jacket, he stepped farther into the living room. "I swear that girl is more difficult to guard than a hardened criminal."
Zane almost wanted to smile-almost, but of course, he didn't. He never smiled. "I know what you mean." Did he ever! "I talked to her about the stunt she pulled yesterday. Trust me, she won't do it again."
"And how do you know that? The moment you turn around, she's gonna use mind control on me again and escape."
"She won't. She knows what the consequences are."
"What did you threaten her with? Torture?"
"Something like that." Unfortunately, if he really made good on quitting this a.s.signment if she gave him any more trouble, it would be more torture for himself than for her.
"I tell you, it sucks that she's part vampire, and I'm not. Puts me at a huge disadvantage."
This wasn't the first time Oliver had praised the advantages a vampire had over a human. Zane always wondered if the kid would one day ask Samson for permission to be turned. But did Oliver really know what he was asking for?
"Being a vampire isn't all that it's cracked up to be."
"In what way?" Oliver shot back.
"For starters, no more days on the beach," Zane responded lightheartedly. For a moment, he wondered whether he really missed the sun. He'd been living in the dark for so long that he could barely remember what it would be like to enjoy the rays of the sun on his skin. Besides, the darkness suited his mood. Particularly right now.
"Like there's ever any beach weather in San Francisco. The entire summer is fogged in, and when we do get our obligatory three days of hot beach weather, it happens on a Wednesday afternoon when everybody has to work."
There was some truth to Oliver's statement. "Yep, the weather is a little temperamental here. Of course, you could always call in sick."
Oliver frowned. Nope, the kid wouldn't neglect his duties. His loss.
"So, if that's the only thing I'm giving up by becoming a vampire, it's not a hard choice to make."
Zane shook his head. "The turning is painful."
"I'm no wuss."
"n.o.body's saying you are."
"For gaining immortality and all those awesome powers I don't mind going through some pain."
"With all those powers comes vulnerability. Besides, a long life can be very lonely." Like Zane's. Lonely and consumed with hatred.
"I wouldn't worry about that." He
"Right." As if that had anything to do with being a vampire.
Zane consulted his watch. "I'd better go."
"See you tonight."
Zane headed for his Hummer and drove to Samson's house in n.o.b Hill. Since it was well before sunrise, the streets were nearly deserted. He preferred it that way.
He pulled in front of Samson's garage and parked the car. Lights were ablaze in the Victorian mansion. He knew that even Delilah had adjusted her habits to be awake during the night and asleep during the day so she and Samson could live a near-normal life. Well, as normal as living with a vampire could ever be.
Samson opened the door himself and ushered him inside.
"You wanted to see me?"
Zane nodded.
"Let's go to my office."
Zane followed on Samson's heels and practiced in his head how to start the conversation. Unfortunately, he wasn't one for diplomacy, and there was really no easy way to talk about what he needed to say.
When he shut the door behind him, Samson turned to face him, resting his b.u.t.t on the ma.s.sive mahogany desk.
"So, what's going on?"
Zane s.h.i.+fted his feet and tried to adopt a casual stance but failed. "It's about my a.s.signment."
Samson raised a hand. "Hold it right there. We've gone through this. We decided that you'd have a low stress, low risk job for a while until things have blown over and we can be sure-"
"That's not what it's about. We shouldn't have accepted the job."
Samson gave him a stunned look. "What? Listen, Zane, just because you're not keen on this a.s.signment doesn't-"
Zane interrupted once more. "We shouldn't have taken it, because what we're doing to this girl isn't right."
Samson narrowed his eyes. "Are you questioning Gabriel's and my decision?"
Zane widened his stance. "Yes, I am."
"Explain yourself."
"Do you have any idea what her father is asking us to do?"
Samson clenched his jaw. "If you need clarification beyond what's in your briefing file, I'm more than happy to explain it to you again: she's a volatile young woman who's grieving for her mother and acting out. We're there to make sure she doesn't hurt herself."
"Bulls.h.i.+t!" Zane spat. "That's what her father is trying to make us believe. It's a lie."
Samson pushed himself off the desk and squared his stance. "You'd better have something to back up that accusation."
"Portia's father is trying to keep her away from any men so she won't have a chance of losing her virginity before her twenty-first birthday."
"Get real."
Zane could virtually see what was going through Samson's mind. As a father of a hybrid daughter himself, he knew what this meant. And by the frown on his face, Zane understood that Samson would never impose this fate on his own daughter. He would make sure she would lose her virginity well before her body set into its final form, even if he had to line up potential lovers himself.
"n.o.body would do that to his own daughter." Samson's voice was firm as he ran his hand through his full, raven-black hair.
"He's doing it."
"And how would you know that?" Impatience crept into Samson's hazel eyes.
"She told me." The circ.u.mstances under which he'd found out, however, were none of Samson's business. h.e.l.l, they were n.o.body's business but Portia's and his own.
"Just like that?"
"I caught her trying to escape, so she told me." Well, that was close enough to the truth. That they'd kissed for the first time that night didn't matter. The truth was still the truth.
"Interesting," Samson mused. "And the fact that she's trying to manipulate you with this sob story hasn't crossed your mind?"
Of course Portia was manipulating him, but not the way Samson suspected. She was trying to get him to sleep with her. And f.u.c.k, he wanted that. "She's not manipulating me."
"I think you're being played."
Zane cursed. "n.o.body is playing me! Don't you see what he's trying to do to her? She'll be twenty-one in five weeks, and she'll still be a virgin. Do you really want that on your conscience?"
"I've figured you for a lot of stuff, Zane, but gullible wasn't one of them. You have a lot to learn about young women. She's practically a teenager. She'll do anything to get around her father's rules. She'll lie, she'll make up stories to elicit your sympathy. Heck, that's why we chose you for this job: because you don't soften when somebody tells you a sob story."
"It's not a sob story. Her father is condemning her to a life as a virgin. Do you have any idea what that means for her?"
"Don't lecture me on this issue. I know what it means. And I know that no father in his right mind would want that on his daughter. He loves her. All he's trying to do is protect her from herself."
"That's a lie!"
Samson huffed. "Fine. You wanna know how I know she's lying to you?" He rounded his desk and opened a drawer. A moment later, a manila file landed on top of the desk.
"Open it, look on page three."
Hesitating, Zane took a step and reached for the folder. He slowly opened it and turned to page three. He scanned the notes. Halfway down, his eyes stopped.
One of her favorite lies is to claim she's a virgin and her father is trying to prevent her from losing her virginity, it read.
"No..." Zane shook his head. Had she lied to him? Had she made it all up so she could gain his sympathy and goad him into sleeping with her? Was she some sort of nymphomaniac who couldn't keep her hands off the men around her?
No, he couldn't believe it. At the beginning, her kiss had been so innocent. Her reactions to him were honest.
"Do you believe me now?" Samson asked.
Just because it was written in black and white, didn't mean it had to be true. But he didn't contradict Samson any further. Samson was wrong; they were all wrong about Portia. He knew her better. He'd seen her tears when she'd told him about her fate. He'd looked deep into her and understood that there was no pretense, no lie to her words.
"She wouldn't lie to me."
Then he turned and left Samson's office, ignoring his boss's voice calling after him.
Samson tossed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was still mid-afternoon.
"I know it's bothering you," Delilah said softly and sat up.
It was one of the drawbacks of being blood-bonded: your mate always knew when something was wrong, and when he couldn't sleep, Delilah couldn't either.