Midnight Serenade (Moonhaven World Romance #1)

Chapter One- Mia

I was working the late evening shift at Happy’s Diner. The owner, Happy, liked to stay open later than other diners to catch the people getting out of the bars and nightclubs down the street. Personally, I thought it was an idiotic idea. People getting out of bars and nightclubs were not generally good customers, and dealing with drunks was never my favorite idea, either.

As a matter of fact, I had an aversion to random people pinching my butt or coming in so tipsy that they crashed into their table, knocking the plates and glasses to the floor in a crescendo of broken china. And it really irritated me when Happy glared at me as if all of it were my fault.

I grumbled under my breath as I picked up the broken china and swept the area. You would think working mostly at diners for the last eleven years of my life would give me more than enough experience to be above the grunt work of certain diner jobs—to be a manager or owner—but nope. And it wasn’t because I was a terrible worker. I was a dang good worker. It was for the simple reason that people and I did not mix well.

Being around people left me all jumbled and chaotic inside. There was this huge mix of feelings that swirled around and around inside me whenever I was around them. Like someone had taken a fireman’s hose, opened it full throttle, and shoved it down my throat. It was not pleasant.

I’d really tried. I’d tried as a child, and then as an early teen to make friends. But I could tell when people were lying to me, and I could tell when people were saying something not because they felt it, but because they thought it would make me think better of them. I could tell when people were being insincere. And, the sad truth was, there was a lot of lying and insincerity out there in the world. So much of it, in fact, that I’d stopped trying.

It was a rare find to find a decent, truthful person who didn’t live or die by others’ opinions of them. People gravitated to people who made them feel better about themselves. And, sadly, that wasn’t me for most people. Hence the no friends, and the cleaning broken china, and the leering man with crazy eyebrows and bloodshot eyes who tried to pinch my butt again.

I stood up and glared at him, my chest heaving. His cronies around the table were snickering into their food, watching the scene play out; none of them speaking up for me, none of them seeing anything wrong with putting your hands on someone else’s butt when it was clearly not wanted. The man winked at me, and I saw red. I gently set the tub of broken china down on the table, fisted my hand, and punched him as hard as I could in the nose.

The man squawked, covered his nose, and said in a high-pitched, grating voice, “I didn’t mean anything by it, idiot woman! Stop being so sensitive!”

His cronies were cracking up now, guffawing into their waters, and I could tell the butt-pincher was getting embarrassed. I knew this would go one of two ways: One, he would drop it and slink away. Two, he would create a scene with my manager.

He went with option two.

“You’re fired,”

Happy sneered. “Get your things and get out.”

The other servers and cooks avoided my eyes, and not one of them stood up for me. It hurt a bit. I knew I wasn’t really friends with any of them, but we were at least friendly with each other most of the time. I tried to help my coworkers as much as possible, taking shifts when they were sick or had to take care of a sick child, and staying late so they could get home to families and kids.

But none of them stood up to Happy. I understood, or at least I tried to comfort myself that I understood. They didn’t want to lose their jobs, either. And the economy was terrible. I sighed, glaring at Happy. His name was a huge misnomer. He should have been named Growly the Ghastly. It certainly would have fit better than Happy.

I gathered my things, glared at the table of guys in the corner who’d gone quiet, nodded at my coworkers, and left the diner.

The sky was thick with dark clouds, and it was starting to drizzle. I pulled the collar of my coat up and wrapped my scarf around my neck, tucking the ends inside my coat to keep myself as warm as possible.

The streets were deserted at this time of night. Occasionally a car passed, but I didn’t look up and take note. I kept my nose down and my eyes on the sidewalk and walked as fast as I could toward my apartment building.

It wasn’t the smartest idea to walk home at this time of night. I knew that. But I had zero extra money for a cab, and I didn’t own a car. Heck, I would just be grateful if I could scrounge up enough money for my rent. Right now, all of my money was going toward the business classes I was taking online. I juggled bills to pay the tuition each month, taking extra shifts at work whenever I could swing it.

Until last week, I’d been working two jobs: Happy’s and The Juice Box, a juicing bar down the street that was always crazy busy. But I’d had to let that job go so I could focus on my upcoming finals. I was nearing the end; so close to my certification that I could almost taste it.

It had taken me two years of double shifts, night shifts, two jobs, extra jobs, and eighteen-hour days to get me to this point. The finals were on my laptop at home, waiting for me to send them in. I just had to proof them one last time and then I was done. I would never have to work a diner job for the rest of my life. I could polish up my resume, add in my education and certification, and get a better-paying job that would help me get out of the slums and into decent housing. Maybe afford a car, and an occasional meal out.

A car with very faded headlights passed close by me, spewing muddy water on my lower half. I growled and wanted to shake my fist at the driver, but I didn’t bother. They probably couldn’t see any better than I could in this wet weather.

A woman with a very bundled-up baby was up ahead on the sidewalk. He was in what looked like a snow suit, including a hoodie, and the woman had on two coats and what appeared to be three differently colored scarves, with boots up to her knees. I wanted to laugh. It wasn’t that cold, but as she drew near, I felt a strange surge of peace. She smiled at me, despite the drizzle, and I felt warmth blossom inside of me.

I smiled back at her, despite the crappy day I was having. She was one of those rare types of people that made you smile simply because you couldn’t help yourself. We nodded as we passed each other and went our separate ways. I didn’t really find it odd that she was out in the drizzle at night with her baby. Or that she wasn’t taking a cab, because there was what looked like a harried dad following her. He looked asleep on his feet; his tie was askew, his dress pants were wrinkled, and he quickly tried to catch up with her with a huge umbrella so she and baby didn’t get wet.

I smiled and shook my head. Little family out for a walk? Maybe they were trying to calm junior so he could fall asleep? I didn’t know. But it was interesting, and the woman seemed like a good person. The dad just seemed tired, and maybe a little frustrated that his wife was outstripping his pace. I looked at the apartment building they’d walked out of. It was brightly lit, and had a doorman just behind the glass doors, staying out of the rain. This was a better and safer part of the city. I purposely went out of my way to walk through the more affluent areas of town on my way home. I had no desire to be a statistic.

When I could no longer walk home via the affluent areas of town, I quickly marched down the streets closer to home. A homeless man was on the corner, babbling to himself, and empathy hit me hard. I’d been homeless once. I’d eaten out of dumpsters and begged for scraps and essentials from others.

I had five bucks in my pocket. It wasn’t a lot, maybe enough to get a small meal, but it was all I had. I handed it to him as I passed, and he smiled a vacant, gap-toothed smile at me. As I turned the corner, I heard him singing.

I passed the alley right between my apartment building and another, and felt a chill skitter down my spine. I pivoted and saw a man leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette under an overhang that kept him dry. For no discernible reason, as the man’s eyes met mine my insides turned to ice and I felt intense fear. He made no threatening move toward me—in fact, he didn’t move at all—but I felt like my life was in jeopardy. I turned away from him quickly, and because I’d felt such things before and trusted my instincts, I bolted for my building, running flat out.

I opened the outer building’s door with my key and slammed it shut behind me, breathing hard and looking out at the man who’d followed me so quietly I hadn’t heard him. We stared at each other through the small patch of dirty glass, me with my heart beating like a runaway train, and him looking like he was contemplating nothing more dire than dinner. I palmed my phone, preparing to call nine-one-one, when he smirked and left.

I almost collapsed to the dirty floor in relief.

I had no idea how I knew he was bad news; I just did. I always did. A person could look like the most affluent businessman, but if they were a danger to me, I always knew. As a matter of fact, I’d had that happen in the past.

One of my night classes had been on a local campus, and it was a packed classroom.

Most of the students had seemed and felt friendly to me, but one man hadn’t.

And the craziest part was that he’d been among the friendliest of the class. He’d laughed and joked with others, gone out to coffee with the group, and just generally seemed to get along with everyone. His eyes had looked bright and cheerful. His dress was always business casual, and I’d seen him drive home more than once in a nice late-model car. But every time I was around him, my heart had pounded, my chest had tightened, cold would pulse through my body, and I would shake. Which made it dang hard to take notes and pay attention to my instructor.

I sat on the opposite end of the class from him, and avoided him at all costs. Others eventually noticed my behavior and asked me about it, but I kept my mouth shut, refusing to explain why I avoided him like the plague. I still had nightmares about the look in his eyes when he realized I could see right through him. It had only been then that I could see the eyes of a killer. Later that year, the news outlets had screamed about his arrest. Eventually, he’d been convicted of fifteen counts of murder and sentenced to a life in prison without possibility of parole.

That incident proved to me in a very visceral way that you couldn’t judge someone based upon looks and what they projected to the world. I’d felt icy fear around white-collar businesspeople, and I’d felt peaceful and happy around what most considered the dregs of society. It didn’t matter your skin color, the money in your bank account, where you lived, or what you did for a living. There were good and bad people in all walks of life, and in every imaginable circumstance. Most people seemed to fall between the two extremes.

I stiffened my shaky knees and walked up three flights of stairs to my apartment. I let myself in and flicked the light switch closest to the door, fear still surging through me, making me compulsively check every nook and cranny of my tiny apartment for some crazy person intent on murdering me in my sleep.

I wanted to collapse on my dilapidated sofa, but I quickly showered the diner smell off me put on some fuzzy pajamas, and made some ramen before I sat down. I huddled under a blanket and slurped my noodles, watching a Disney movie on TV. Something light and happy that would help the feelings of the day to drain from me. I drank icy water from a water bottle and slumped into the cushions.

I couldn’t ever remember feeling this defeated. I was a good worker, but I seemed to be cursed when it came to jobs. From my first job when I’d been a homeless sixteen-year-old, to this latest disaster at Happy’s, I’d had twenty-three jobs. Some I’d left on my own because I’d been really uncomfortable with an employee or boss, but most I’d lost because of circumstances similar to tonight.

It was like I was a magnet for disaster. No matter where I went or what I did, I couldn’t get ahead. Something would happen, and life would shove me down the stairs again, kicking me as I fell.

I didn’t believe in the supernatural, but I didn’t disbelieve either. And some of those lost jobs...they’d seemed unnatural. Occasionally people that I came across that felt different to me. And the strange thing was, they seemed to notice me as well. To be honest, it freaked me out that they seemed to see me clearly, when to me they were more murky. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. I relied on my sense of people. It had saved my life on more than one occasion. It bugged me that there were people out there that I couldn’t get a good sense of. They were complete mysteries.

I fell asleep with this on my mind and woke to pounding on my door. The pounding had a certain sound of doom to it. I knew who was at the door, and I knew what he wanted.

My super, Lando, wanted the rent money. The problem was that I didn’t have it. I wasn’t usually late on rent, but I’d had a last payment for my tuition, and I couldn’t graduate without being fully paid up.

Perhaps if I ignored him long enough, he wouldn’t pitch me out into the streets.

Making a faint noise of disgust at my thoughts, I rose from the couch, drew in a big breath for courage, and flung open the door.

Lando had an unamused expression on his pinched, scowling face. His beady eyes looked carrion bird-ish, making me hold in an inappropriate snort at my doomsday thoughts.

“Rent money.”

“I’m sorry, Lando, but I don’t have all of it right now. I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.”

Somehow. I might have to find some under-the-table work for a few days to scrounge together the remaining two-hundred dollars. I dug into my purse for my wallet and handed him what I had. “This is all I have so far. I promise I’ll get the rest to you this week.”

I wanted to plead with him to be patient, but knew better, even before he opened his mouth.

He squinted and pursed his lips. “I’ve already listened to five sob stories this morning; yours will not make a difference. If I don’t have the rest by Friday, I’ll deadbolt your apartment and lock you out.”

Never mind that it was illegal to do that, and I should have had thirty days. It didn’t matter. Housing in Manhattan was terrible in the slum areas. And it was rarely overseen by the city.

I was so screwed.

I nodded and shut the door in his face. It was only mildly satisfying, which was a sad commentary on my life at the moment.

I snatched another bottle of water from the fridge and stood in front of the mirror in my hallway.

I sighed and pushed my wavy dark hair away from my face. It was long and thick and so hot in the summer that it was not uncommon for it to be slapped up in a messy bun all the time. I had pale skin that veered into the porcelain range, and what some had dubbed “creepy bronze eyes”.

Literally. They were bronze. That metallic looking brownish-goldenish-reddish color.

I actually liked them, but most people avoided my eyes like I was Medusa and would turn them to stone with one look.

Sometimes I wished I had that superpower.

I would totally use it judiciously.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Okay, probably not.

I sighed and plopped down onto my couch again to read the comics. Just because. I even had it in me to smile a little at Dennis the Menace.

Such a cool kid.

A handful, yes. But awesome.

For the thousandth time, I wished I had a brother. Even if he drove me insane with his shenanigans, I just knew that I would treasure him.

I wanted a home and a sense of belonging. I wanted warmth and light and love. I wanted family and friends. I wanted an amazing boyfriend. But the thought of the chaos that swirled inside of me whenever I was around people made me cringe and made me gun-shy. I’d tried and failed so many times that I’d given up. At least for now. Loneliness was eating at me again, and I knew I’d probably try again soon. There were times I thought I’d accept a feral cat if it meant having someone to talk to.

I didn’t remember my birth parents; they’d died when I was very young, and I spent the early part of my life in foster or group homes. At fourteen, I’d been adopted by a kind family, but when I was sixteen they’d died in a helicopter accident. I had been stuck at home with the flu and unable to travel with them. Which, in retrospect, had saved my life. Who knew the flu could be lifesaving?

The days following were not so great and still felt like a fevered dream for me. My nanny was fired, the will and important papers were seized, the house was claimed, and my sick self was ejected from the house in short order.

Some still-living nephew had been the heir of their entire estate. It hadn’t mattered at all to him that I was a minor. He’d just kicked me out of the house with no warning. Whenever I thought of him, my teeth ground together. Who did that to a sixteen-year-old girl? What a scuzz.

I still wasn’t sure why my adopted parents had left me out of the will, but I hadn’t quibbled or fought back against Glade. After living with a great family the prior two years, I hadn’t wanted to go back into the system. Technically, my cousin should have gotten custody of me, but he’d felt like a rampaging bull in the short time I’d been around him and I’d had no desire to put myself into his care. Instead, I got a job at a diner in town that paid in cash, lied about my age to everyone I met, and lived on my own. It took months to scrounge together enough money for a down payment on an apartment. That was eleven years ago.

For a while after he inherited the estate, Glade had people following me.

At first, I thought I was losing my mind. I would get the distinct and creepy feeling of someone’s eyes lasering into my shoulders or the back of my head. I’d turn and there would be no one there. Other times, I would see a familiar face hanging around outside the diner. Someone I’d seen on the streets in passing, but they would never come in, and they never bothered me.

To say that it had irritated me would be a vast understatement.

He’d kicked me out, dumped me in the rain while I was delirious with fever, and to top all of that off, he’d had people tailing me for months.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

What was he worried about? That I’d set the house on fire? That I’d make a stink in the media about him stealing my home? I was sixteen. Far too young to take him on in court and win. Besides, I’d wanted to avoid him and avoid drawing attention to myself at all costs. I wasn’t about to take on a dangerous man all over money and a big house.

It just wasn’t me.

I huffed under my breath as I flipped the page and looked through the Help Wanted ads. I’d been looking at possible secretarial jobs for the last several months, just seeing what was out there and what they were paying, but I’d been waiting until I had my degree in hand before applying to anything. It was nice to see what the potentials were. But this ad was starting to tick me off. It had been running for a month now, and was still there in big, black and bold-as-you-please font, taking up nearly a quarter page of the paper. And it was completely and utterly ridiculous.

Wanted: Vampire’s Assistant

Duties will include, but will not be limited to: shopping, banking, accounting, making travel arrangements, supplying a daily itinerary, correspondence and communications with all Excelsior acquisitions and its management teams, etc.

The best applicant for the job will be:

Loyal.

Quiet.

Fearless.

Possess the ability to keep the CEO’s affairs private.

In good health.

Flexible.

Dependable.

Somewhat sturdy.

Applicant should also be intelligent and not prone to temper tantrums, moodiness or fits of terror.

Compensation commensurate with applicant’s percentage of match affinity with the job and the qualifications.

If hired, living accommodations will be provided by Excelsior Inc.

All inquiries please apply at:

Draven Leto Industries

P.O. Box 727

Moonhaven Cove, Oregon

97579

or

Attn: Draven Leto

@

[email protected]

I huffed again. My current straits were dire. I needed money quickly, and after the week I’d had, it irritated me that this man kept putting out this ad that was so ridiculous it was an utter waste of space. And it was a huge ad! That space could have and should have been used by genuine people looking for employees for their business. I didn’t know how it worked in newspapers, but what if real businesses were getting turned away for next week’s paper because this yahoo kept running an ad that was clearly meant as a joke for some unsuspecting fool?

I frowned at the ad again, reading through it a second time, then fired up my laptop, and started an email. I was going to tell this Draven Leto person that his joke of an ad wasn’t funny, and to please retract it. Placing a prank ad might be funny on any other day. A month ago, I might have laughed with the rest of Manhattan. I might have snickered into my favorite peppermint tea and rolled my eyes.

But today I was inches from getting kicked out of my apartment. I’d had to punch someone last night, who, yet again, didn’t seem to appreciate the word “no”, and I’d narrowly avoided what might have been a serial killer walking home. My hair was a tangle of wild in an I-will-tame-you-if-it’s-the-last-thing-I-do bun, I was stressed out and so tired—even after sleeping all night—that I could barely see straight. My eighteen-hour days had more than caught up to me.

Attn: [email protected]

Subject: Your ad

Mr. Leto,

I realize your ad is probably one big joke for you. Its placement nationwide, and possibly worldwide, means that you at least have the means to back up your pranks, but I need to inform you that your prank ad reduces viable space where other companies, and those looking to hire, might find applicants.

Applicants such as myself.

Since we do not live in a fictional world, and since there are no such beings as vampires, I have to assume that this ad’s audience was a person in your circle that you needed to get back at or have a little fun with.

Normally, that would be funny. Hilarious, even, as it shows a lightheartedness that I would usually appreciate. But, between the lecherous men at my previous place of employment, my rent being past due, and there being zero food in my cupboards, I can tell you that your ad, on this side of the paper, was not at all funny.

In fact, I found it to be in poor taste.

Please, in the future, refrain from taking up valuable ad space with your pranks.

There are people out there that really need a job and roof over their head that legitimate ads provide the chance of.

Thank you for your time.

P.S.

I hope your friend at least found it funny.

Sincerely, Mia Durran

I hit send and scrounged up some more ramen. It was cheap and filling, and my cupboards usually overflowed with the stuff.

I needed a job, and fast.

I spent the day polishing my resume, adding in my—hopefully—new degree, and proofing and submitting my finals. Later that afternoon, I got a return email with my graded papers. My teacher was lightning fast, and I smiled and internally cheered as I saw that I’d gotten all As. I was set to graduate a week from Friday. I danced around my apartment a bit at that news and wished I had some Martinelli’s to celebrate. But I ate another meal of ramen and surprisingly fell asleep with the irritating Draven Leto on my mind.

His ad irritated me, but for no reason at all, I found myself smiling when I thought of him. At least he had a sense of humor.

Little did I know that Draven Leto would frequently bring out those same emotions in me in the days to come.

Irritation.

And laughter.

After crawling out of bed and making an iced coffee to get me started the next morning, I fired my laptop up and checked for any messages I might have gotten overnight.

I’d inquired at a few offices yesterday if they were hiring and wanted to see if they’d gotten back to me.

Instead, I found a message from Draven Leto.

Hmm.

Taking a sip of my iced coffee, I clicked to open the message.

Attn: [email protected]

Re: My Ad

Dear Ms. Durran,

After reading your email, it occurs to me that there are quite a few things that you don’t know about yourself. Please know, Ms. Durran, that I had no intention of taking up valuable ad space with a junk ad. I realize jobs are at a premium these days, and if I had the desire to play a prank such as that on someone in my circle, I certainly wouldn’t place it nationwide where every person with an opinion would come out of the woodworks and send zinging emails to my inbox.

Since you don’t believe that such an ad can be legit, I offer you proof. Take the ad around to your neighbors and see if they can see the ad. I’m betting they won’t be able to.

Once finished, email me back, and we’ll talk.

Regards, Draven Leto

I almost spit out my coffee.