Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
At least Pandora wouldn’t die if she ate at Victor’s parents’ house.
“That’s handy,” Elias said, making Victor’s brows pinch.
“How do you figure?” he asked.
“Oh, because of Pandora’s garlic allergy, of course,” Elias said.
Victor looked confused by that, likely mentally flicking through all of the questions they’d shared, trying to figure out if he’d forgotten something that important. “Of course.”
Pandora couldn’t figure out Elias’s motivation for that comment. Was he trying to make it sound like he knew her better than Victor did? Or was he simply trying to save Pandora from an extremely uncomfortable – if not fatal – meal?
“I have the same allergy,” Elias said. “In fact, isn’t it … genetic for you, Pandora?”
“Oh, er, yes, actually,” she said. “I think I forgot to mention that.” She looked at Victor. “We’re all allergic to garlic. Weird, but true.”
“Victor, dear, you are missing the most amusing story.” Ophelia appeared in the doorway, pointedly waiting until Victor moved away from Pandora’s side.
Victor looked back at Pandora.
“I’m coming too,” she said, snatching the two opened bottles of wine and following him out. She refused to give in to her mother’s scheming.
In fact, she even took her seat next to Victor at the table instead of staying next to Elias. His leg brushed against hers, and she could swear a jolt of electricity coursed up her thigh and sneaked across her belly.
“Elias is going to be staying with us for a few weeks,” Ophelia said, making Pandora turn her stunned look to her mother.
“Why?” she asked before she could think better of it.
“What a strange question,” Ophelia said. “Because we look forward to enjoying his company.”
Pandora glanced over toward her brother, silently asking if he knew anything of this. But Dante just gave her a small head shake. This was the first he was hearing about it as well.
Pandora was half tempted to declare that now that she was engaged, she was going to be moving in with Victor. She was all too aware, however, that her future was still in her parents’ hands. If she wanted to inherit her fortune, she had to play nice. Or, at the very least, not outright goad them.
“Victor, Dante, do you mind helping Ravenna clear the table?” Ophelia asked, knowing she was taking away Pandora’s only back-up at the table.
“Victor is a guest, Mum,” Pandora said. Normally, her parents were nothing if not well-mannered.
“Nonsense,” Ophelia said, waving an elegant hand. “He’s practically family now, isn’t he?”
“I’ll help too,” Pandora said, pushing her chair back.
“It’s OK,” Victor said, giving her hand a squeeze. “Of course, Mrs. Von Ashmore.” He got to his feet, then reached for the nearest serving dishes. “I’m happy to help.”
Pandora watched Victor follow Dante and Ravenna out of the dining room, before turning back with a sigh.
“So, Pandora,” Elias said, either oblivious to her sour mood, or not caring, “I hear you work at a … coffee shop.”
“I do.”
“Why?” he asked, gesturing toward the house.
She couldn’t exactly tell him that she worked there because she actually liked humans; she found that their mortality made them seem to just live more fully. They knew they only had a certain number of years, so they tried to fill that time with as much laughter and joy as possible.
It was endearing and refreshing.
“I like it,” she answered simply.
Ophelia prompted her. “Dear, this is where you ask Elias what he does for work.”
Pandora couldn’t care less. But she couldn’t be that rude. “What do you do for work, Elias?” she asked obediently.
“I deal in rare artifacts,” he said. Which, thankfully, prompted about three hundred questions from Uncle Reginald, who, apparently, had about a thousand items he might be interested in selling.
The discussion lasted long enough – despite Ophelia’s constant attempts to steer the conversation and get Elias and Pandora talking – to allow Victor to finish helping with the clearing of the table, whole pig and all, and take his seat beside her again.
“Never … more,” Vlad declared this into a sudden gap in the chatter, making Victor look over, brows raised as he inspected the raven.
“That’s impressive,” he said, nodding at the bird.
Pandora didn’t tell Victor that Vlad could actually recite the entire one-hundred-and-eight-line poem. In dramatized fashion. Or that he claimed he was the raven from the famous poem. That taunting Edgar had simply been another of his many pranks during a short stint their family had spent in the States. Nor that, despite all of that, Vlad’s favorite Edgar Allan Poe poem was actually Annabel Lee.
“He’s a chatty bird,” Pandora said, figuring there might be a time when Victor overheard the raven speaking, and not wanting him to be surprised by it.
Though, even she had to admit that the chances of Victor finding out that undead ravens existed, let alone that her family had one, were slim to none.