⋆ Chapter 45

*Sunday.*

I woke up late, but the morning still felt like a fresh start. I decided to visit my mom and dad, figuring I could spend some time with them, away from everything that had been going on lately. I spent the afternoon cooking lunch for all three of us. My mom, as always, was eager to tell me about her time at the beach yesterday, how she collected seashells, and her new finds. She showed me the latest additions to her collection in her Shell Shed, and we talked about them until I finally got so comfortable that I dozed off in my old room.

When I woke up, my dad was sitting with me, sipping tea. We talked for a while—catching up, as we usually did. Then he told me about how he thought I needed “more fresh air and food that wasn’t frozen.”

Then he asked about work, about how I was holding up, and I told him everything was fine. Then I turned the conversation to him, asking if he'd gone to his doctor's appointment. He just waved me off and said, "Don't worry about it."

After some more chatting, we agreed to have a family lunch next weekend. Dad asked me to organize it with Trish, so I told him I'd reach out to her.

“I’d really love to go with you and Mom next month,” I said, and I meant it. I missed them more than I realized. Dad sounded pleased, though he tried to hide it in his usual gruff way.

It was already evening when I got home. I hadn’t even kicked off my shoes when my phone lit up. Cillian. I picked up.

“I just read your message,” he said, calm but with that edge in his voice that made me think he was trying not to yell. “Six dates, Pet?”

I grinned like an idiot even though he couldn’t see me. “Yep.”

“You’re unbelievable. Damian’s on his way.”

“What?”

But he’d already hung up.

I scrambled to change into something halfway decent—my go-to jeans and an old shirt with a fading logo. All my sweatpants were in the laundry and smelled like old popcorn. Typical.

When I got downstairs, Damian was already waiting in the black car. I slid in and buckled up.

“Hi, Damian,” I said, flashing a smile. He gave me the usual tight nod.

I wasn’t expecting anything more, but I was bored and kind of in a chatty mood. “So, how’s Leo? I haven’t seen that jerk around lately. And—wait, what’s Cillian’s butler’s name again? I always try to be polite but he always looks like my existence bothers him.”

There was a pause.

Then Damian said, “Alfonso.”

I gasped. Not dramatically, but still—a little gasp.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “You spoke to me.”

He didn’t even blink.

I grinned the rest of the way.

The car pulled into Cillian’s mansion and as usual, it was way too quiet for me. Damian parked and got out without a word, then opened my door like the silent vampire chauffeur he was.

Classic.

Alfonso, he finally had a name, was already waiting by the door. He didn’t say anything either—just gave me a tight nod and motioned for me to follow him.

I swear I saw his eye twitch when he noticed I wasn’t wearing my usual sweatshirt and sweatpants.

He led me through the grand hallway and straight to Cillian’s home office. The door creaked open, and there he was—Cillian Ravenscroft behind his massive desk, all sleeves rolled up and brow furrowed, looking like he was either solving an ancient mystery or writing a really intense email.

He didn’t look up right away, just said, “You’re here.”

I walked in and hovered awkwardly near the wall of bookshelves. “You look busy.”

“I am. But apparently I have six dates next week.”

Ah. There it was.

I shrugged. “I picked interesting ones.”

He finally looked up, eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t the agreement, Matilda.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I missed the part where you laid out any clear rules,” I shot back, arms crossed. “Besides, what better way to find your next Keeper than to actually talk to women who might want to be more than a walking snack?”

He opened his mouth—probably to argue—but before he could get a word out, the office door burst open.

A handsome man walked in with dark hair as black as midnight, a little longer and messier than Cillian’s, giving him a more relaxed, easy-going vibe.He looked about Cillian’s age, maybe a little younger.

His face was just as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as Cillian’s, but there was something about him that made him way more approachable.Like, you could tell this guy actually smiled, and actually liked to smile.

He also looked like the type of person who could talk to anyone—really, talk to anyone, not just make polite small talk, but actually enjoy it. And he didn’t even need to try hard for it—he just seemed like the kind of guy who was always down for a good laugh.

His outfit was a whole other thing. It was more... laid-back. He had this black leather jacket on, which was cool, but underneath was a simple white t-shirt, and honestly, he looked more like he’d just strolled in from some weekend hangout.  

Unlike Cillian, who looked perfect all the time, this guy looked like he was comfortable in his own skin, and it was... kind of refreshing.

It was the kind of vibe that made me wonder if he ever even tried to be intimidating. Because honestly, I could already tell he wasn’t like Cillian. And for some reason, that made me a little curious.

Cillian immediately stood up, his entire posture going stiff. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The man smiled, slow and wicked. “Didn’t you read the memo?”

“What memo?”

“Mother sent me here to learn from you,” he said with mock sincerity, “my dear perfect cousin.”

I blinked. Cousin?

I stared at the guy, then at Cillian, who now looked like he wanted to throw something—or someone—through the window.

I don’t know why it caught me off guard so much. Maybe because I’d only ever seen Cillian with Damian, Alfonso, and Leo. He just… didn’t seem like someone who had family. Except Lottie. But still, seeing someone waltz in claiming to be related to him? Weird.

The mysterious cousin finally turned his attention to me.

“Oh, hello there, little human girl,” he said, voice smooth and deep, like he was permanently flirting with everyone in the room. “Is she your Keeper?” He looked back at Cillian. “Mind if I have a taste of her blood?”

My jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

Cillian’s face instantly went stone-cold. “Leave her alone.”

The air in the room suddenly felt a little heavier, a little colder—something about this guy that I’d totally misjudged.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered to myself.