An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Ten

E verything moves quickly after I agree. It only takes a couple of days for Benjamin to file paperwork with the vampire courts to make sure I’m protected. He’s kind enough to encourage me to stay with him during the waiting period—and I’m starting to think he knows I don’t have anywhere else to go, even though I haven’t admitted it. I ask him if I should text or call my new patron before I head to see him again, but to my stupefaction, Benjamin says that Sebastian doesn’t have a cell phone.

I pass one day working a final shift at the diner because I feel guilty leaving them stranded, and then hand in my resignation. On another, Lissa insists on taking me shopping for a few new outfits.

“You’re officially a valentine now,” she says when I wince at the price tags. “You should look the part.”

But even when I’m draped in silk and diamonds, I feel like an impostor. I swear that any second now, Sebastian is going to retract the offer and declare it was a cruel prank.

Yet all of a sudden, I’m on a plane, and then in a limo with tinted windows, being transported to Lord Sebastian’s mountain home as his official valentine.

When Benjamin warned me about how remote Sebastian’s estate is, I thought it sounded luxurious and romantic. Yet a couple hours into the ride, with nothing but classical music playing over the speakers for company and the city lights far behind us, I find myself wondering if it’s more of a gothic horror story that I’m waltzing into.

But oh well. I’m here now, and the extensive paperwork is signed. There’s little to do except lean back in my absurdly plush seat and sip from the bottle of champagne that was waiting for me in a little ice bucket.

“Fancy as heck,” I mutter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and putting my bright yellow sneakers up on the seat next to me.

But then I remember: there is still one more thing to do. I take another sip of champagne to fortify myself and call my sister.

“Amelia! How was your writing retreat?”

“Good. Great, actually.” And as impromptu as that lie was, it set the stage for my next one. “Matter of fact, it led to an even better opportunity for me. I’m not allowed to talk about the details quite yet, very hush-hush, but… I’m traveling up to the Bay Area for six months for a contract job I’m excited about.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. “Oh,” she says. “That’s really great! I’m happy for you, but…”

“You’re worried about where you’re going to stay for school,” I say, before she has to say it. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Matter of fact… the money from this new job means that I’m able to rent you an apartment of your own.”

“What? Seriously?” Maisy’s tone teeters between concerned and excited. “That sounds expensive. I really don’t need— I mean, I’m grateful, but—”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. I want to help you.” I pull the phone away from my ear and text her the information about the apartment I’m arranging. It’s a cute two-bedroom spot near the university. It is expensive, but the rent is doable with my generous valentine salary. And it works out perfectly, really—my six-month contract with Sebastian will be done in August, the same month that Maisy starts school.

In addition to securing a safe place for my sister to live, I’ll have somewhere I can travel to if things don’t work out with my mysterious patron. After what Declan did to me, I never want to end up stranded again.

“The one condition is that if things don’t work out between me and Declan, you’ll let me move in,” I say, disguised in a joking tone, but testing the waters.

“Oh my God, don’t even joke!” Maisy says. “We all know you two are destined to be together forever.”

I swallow a lump in my throat. “Right.” I guess that’s what I get for keeping the worst parts of my relationship from her. I never wanted Maisy to worry about me. Which is maybe why I want to keep the breakup and this valentine gig a secret for just a little while longer. She has her upcoming move and the start of the school year to worry about.

“But seriously,” she says, catching a hint from my tone, “you’re welcome whenever you want. Though I can’t promise I won’t try to pry details about this mysterious new job out of you.”

I smile to myself. If only she knew… and one day she will. But not today. I excuse myself soon after that and finish off the rest of the bottle of champagne as a reward for the conversation going well.

After that, I’m feeling pleasantly hazy. With nothing else to do, I doze off.

* * *

When I wake again, there is a castle outside the window.

At least, that’s what it looks like. I expected someplace fancy the moment I heard vampire , and even fancier when I heard estate , but I didn’t expect it to be so close to my gothic daydreams. With the redwoods towering around us and mist draping the grounds, there is a dreamlike quality to the whole thing. We traveled only a handful of hours away from busy, sunny Los Angeles, but Northern California might as well be another world. I sit up in my seat and press my nose to the window, impatiently wiping at the glass when my breath fogs it.

The three-story house is painted dark gray, with deep crimson windows and doors. A porch wraps around the outside, supported by stark white pillars. Towers form sharp silhouettes against the sky, and the windows are huge and ornate and plentiful.

It’s beautiful and old-fashioned and… rather spooky. My heart beats faster and faster as it looms closer through the gloom.

Then the car stops, and the driver—a stooped, achingly polite old man who introduces himself as Vincent—opens the door and takes my hand. I step out of the limo and start shivering, unprepared for the cool, damp mountain air. Vincent leads me onto the winding stone path up to the front porch, and I feel as though I’ve been whisked away from my normal life and into a fairy tale.

Vincent opens the front door before heading back to grab the single suitcase I brought. I step into the foyer. A candelabra-style chandelier hangs overhead, and the floor is made of real, polished wood. The ceiling is at least a dozen feet tall and arched like a cathedral. A curving staircase on the left leads up to the second floor.

And straight ahead, a blur of white and black fur is barreling toward me. I have barely a second to react before impact. I pinwheel my arms, stumbling back, and barely manage to keep my footing.

“Barnabas!” A woman rushes down the staircase only to come to an abrupt stop and go red in the face as she notices me on the threshold. I blink at her and then down at the large dalmatian staring up at me with his teeth bared, his whiplike tail wagging a mile a minute behind him. I’m not quite sure what to make of the mixed messages, so I stand frozen with my hands out.

“He’s friendly, I promise,” the woman calls. “He’s just smiling. It’s, er, a dalmatian thing.”

I blink and then smile back at him. “Barnabas, hm? What a gentlemanly name.” I crouch, offer him a hand to sniff, and then scratch him behind the ears. He pants happily, pink tongue lolling out.

The woman flashes me an apologetic smile as she approaches. The blush when she first saw me already made it obvious she’s human, and I glean new details as she approaches. She has fair hair in a bob and a round face, but once she’s closer I see faint lines around her eyes that indicate she’s older than I would’ve guessed from a distance. She’s likely somewhere in her thirties or forties. “I’m so sorry. He’s excitable, and we rarely get company, so…”

“I imagine I’ll be much the same after living here for a few months,” I joke. Barnabas flops onto the floorboards and offers his belly, and I obligingly scratch it. One of his feet starts thumping as I find a good spot. “What a good boy!”

“Ah.” The woman stops a few feet away from me. She looks me up and down—not in a mean way, but she does look puzzled. “You must be the new valentine, then?”

Right. She probably expected me to show up looking beautiful and fancy, but instead I’m dressed in jeans and a T- shirt with my wild curls tied in a messy bun. It seemed ridiculous to dress up in one of my nice new outfits for a car ride.

“That’s me.” As much as I’d like to continue rubbing Barnabas’s belly for the rest of my life, I realize I’m being impolite and straighten, shaking off dog hair before offering my hand. “Amelia Burton. Nice to meet you.”

“Ellen Anders,” she says, shaking my hand and dipping her chin.

“Do you live here, Ellen?” I can’t deny that it brings me some hope. The place seems so huge and cold and strange, it would be nice to have some friendly, human company, especially after the icy impression I got of Sebastian.

“I live in town nearby. But I’m here every weekday, keeping the place tidy.”

“There’s a town?” I perk up; the place seems so remote.

“Yes. Anville. Though my use of nearby may have been misleading. It’s about an hour away by car.”

“At least we’re not fully removed from civilization,” I say.

“Speaking of which,” Vincent says, clearing his throat as he steps in behind me with my bag. “I should be making my way there to pick up groceries. Bridget will have my head if she doesn’t have fresh veggies in time for dinner.” He turns to me, sets the suitcase down, and takes his hat off to give me a small, formal bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and to welcome you to the estate.”

“Thanks so much,” I say, though I feel awkward, unsure if I’m supposed to bow or curtsy or whatever back. Should I give a tip, or is that insulting? Before I can break through my indecision paralysis, he’s already shutting the door behind him. It’s just me, Ellen, and Barnabas standing in the huge and unfamiliar house.

“Well, Barnabas and Vince both beat me to it, but allow me to welcome you as well,” Ellen says, dipping in a small, elegant curtsy. I guess that’s how things are done in a vampire’s employ, so I curtsy back. “Let me show you to your room, and then I’d be happy to give you a tour of the rest of the house.”

“Oh.” I hesitate, surprised that Sebastian isn’t here to greet me or show me around. But— duh, the sun is still up. He must be asleep. “That’d be nice, thank you.”

I insist on carrying my own bag and follow Ellen up a winding staircase to the second floor of the house. The wooden steps creak beneath my feet but shine with polish; the portraits on the walls look ancient but don’t have a speck of dust. Altogether, this place feels old but well maintained. Loved, even. As I watch one of Ellen’s slender hands trail along the staircase and as she leads me through the maze of halls with a familiar ease, I suspect she is at least partially responsible for that.

I linger behind her, my eyes wandering from portrait to portrait. The stern faces and dark, dark eyes are all too reminiscent of Sebastian, and I suspect these must be his forebears, previous owners of the estate. But there’s no time to ask, because Ellen is already carrying on ahead. I barely manage to catch up before she stops in front of one huge wooden door.

“This will be your room,” she says.

I step inside, so shocked that I gape without self-consciousness. The room is huge and lavishly decorated. There’s a gigantic canopy bed with lush silk sheets the color of fresh snow. Mahogany rungs shaped like twisting tree branches lead up to billowing crimson curtains stretched overhead. On the nightstand beside it, a single red rose sits in a porcelain vase. I walk over to smell it, smiling to myself at the gesture. Sebastian may seem cold, but perhaps there is a romantic side to him.

Across from the bed sits a delicate, old-fashioned vanity table. Atop it sits an ornate mirror, its metal frame carved in the shape of roses. The armoire is so huge, I’m not sure how I could possibly fill it, and there’s a walk-in closet and a personal bathroom. But I don’t peek into either of those yet because my attention is caught by the huge windows that line one wall. The view outside is far more beautiful than anything even this decadent room could hold.

The grounds are nothing like the manicured garden of the estate that hosted the Valentine’s Ball. These are more wild, more natural, and far more captivating. All rolling green hills lined with redwood forests. Even under the sunlight, the trees are dark and impenetrable from here, but rather than feeling intimidated by them, I feel a tug somewhere deep in my stomach, a pull to explore them.

“I hope everything is to your liking?” Ellen asks, and I tear my attention from the windows and turn back to her.

I’m smiling so widely, my face hurts. “It’s amazing,” I say. “This is amazing.”

“Lord Sebastian is very generous,” she says. “Would you like a tour now, or a rest first?”

As soon as she asks, I realize how tired I am. I’m not used to being awake during the day anymore. All of the excitement of my arrival gave me a burst of adrenaline, but now that it’s fading, I’m realizing that my nap in the car somehow only left me sore and tired. That big canopy bed looks very inviting.

“I wouldn’t mind some rest, actually,” I say. “And maybe a bath.” I feel sticky with stale travel sweat, and I don’t want to encounter Sebastian before washing it off. Plus, as eager as I am to see more of this beautiful house and those incredible grounds, I have time. This is my home for the next six months, as amazing as that is.

“Of course.” Ellen curtsies again. “Sleep well, Amelia.”

I barely manage to yank off my shoes before tumbling into bed, clothes and all. Just for a little rest , I tell myself as my eyes drift shut. And then I’ll…

Darkness takes me before I can finish the thought.