With a deep breath, I took his offered hand. Warmth flooded my belly, and a zing shot up my arm and into my heart. He pulled me toward him and brushed a strand of my curled hair behind my ear. I rarely did much other than let it hang loose and messy around my shoulders, but I’d made a bit of effort tonight.

To be convincing for the vampire mob boss, of course.

“You look captivating,” he murmured.

“Thank you. You aren’t ugly.”

Smiling, he tugged me toward the door. “Our table is booked for eight. We only have fifteen minutes to get there.”

I hurried after him. As soon as we climbed into the car, he stretched an arm behind my head. I could almost feel the heat of him burning against my neck. The car rumbled into drive, and soon, streetlights flared through the windows as we spun downtown.

“Relax.” He massaged the back of my neck. The sudden contact made my thighs clench.

“I’m not going to relax until Serena’s safe.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “But try not to show it, if you can. We don’t want Lars to have any suspicions about us. If you’re on edge all through our dinner, he’ll know something is up.”

“Maybe he’ll think I just have date nerves.”

“You’re supposed to be my live-in girlfriend, Mia,” he said in a delicious purr that made chills sweep across my skin. “By now, you shouldn’t be so nervous.”

I turned to face him, my heart throbbing. “It’s not you I’m nervous about. It’s Serena. It’s this vampire mob boss. It’s me being bait tonight. You are the last thing that would cause me nerves right now.”

My lungs froze as I held my breath, waiting. He still hadn’t mentioned what had happened last night. How long could he dance around it? Was he worried I would think it meant more than it had? Or was he waiting for me to bring it up? Ha! Hardly. Az wasn’t the kind of guy to wait for anything.

“Well, then just focus on me for a couple of hours, lovely.” His wicked smile burned right through me.

The car slowed to a stop outside of the Waverley Inn. The driver opened the door for the both of us, and we headed into the restaurant. Inside, the lights were dim, and the clinking of glasses mixed with a soothing folksy music filtering in from hidden speakers. The elaborately-painted walls were lined with quiet maroon booths and small pockets of tables were dotted throughout a larger room beside a bar. It screamed old money.

A brunette smiled at us from behind a podium. “Last name, please?”

“Asmodeus,” my date replied with a smile.