The Vanishing by Karla Nikole
Thirty-Six
Two weeks later, Cellina pushes the weight of her thick curls behind her shoulders as she steps inside the restaurant. It glows with warm candlelight and old romance, busy in its location just off a cobblestoned street within the Brera district. She looks around the crowded room and at all the prominent vampires celebrating the restaurant’s opening. She mumbles to herself, “Where is he?”
Giovanni is here. She can feel him. Not just externally—like a static electric current caressing her skin—but inside as well. The power and strength of his blood swirl within her, pulling her toward him as if they’re magnets. When he’s close, it feels like he’s everywhere, all around her. It’s magnificent.
She flips around on instinct just as his large hands grip the small of her waist. He’s handsome in his dark suit, his eyes sparkling with affection. No creases whatsoever in his forehead. Without a word, he leans down. She wraps him up in her arms and lifts to her toes to meet Giovanni’s mouth, parting her lips for him. He kisses her once, fully and sensually, as he holds her, then lifts his head. His voice is low and husky. “Amore della mia vita.”
Love of my life. She smiles. “When did you get here?”
He holds her a little tighter and she stifles a squeal from the pleasure of being pressed against his muscled body. “Ten minutes ago—but I was stuck outside. Boring business stuff with Esposito.”
A waiter walks around the fancy oak desk and gives a little bow. “My lady, my lord, this way, please.”
Giovanni unwraps her body, but she reaches down and holds his hand as she follows the waiter. Cellina tries to ignore the blatant stares as they move through the restaurant. They’ve announced their bond and are doing formal social visits, but the news is still fresh. Aside from a few envious remarks, the aristocracy at large is very positive about their union. Everyone is looking forward to the wedding ceremony they’ll have next year in the spring.
“Esposito runs the software company out of Hamburg, right?” Cellina asks as they walk. “He’s looking for a new lead front-end developer?”
“Right,” Giovanni confirms. “And they have the programming deal with the Fischer Corporation that depends on it.”
The waiter guides them to a table in the middle of the floor. Cellina feels like she’s in a fishbowl as Giovanni pulls her chair out, but this is her life now. She holds her head high as she sits, smoothing the fitted material of her black dress hugging her curves. Giovanni sits beside her and the waiter hands them menus.
“Thank you.” She smiles, then opens and glances at the contents. “And Paul Fischer is the youngest son who’s getting married in January—I already have the date on my calendar. He’s leading the project on the client side, if I remember correctly?”
When Giovanni doesn’t say anything, Cellina blinks up at him. He’s staring at her, mesmerized. “You are incredible. Andstunning.”
“Why thank you.” Cellina winks.
“I can’t believe how quickly you’re memorizing and learning all this banal bullshit I have to endure every day. You act like you’re really into it—”
“I’m not acting, Giovanni. I am into it. Because I’m into you and our society and helping. It’s interesting to me, learning about and being privy to all these different facets of business and the aristocracy. It’s exciting.”
Picking up his menu, Giovanni’s face reads skeptical. His broad shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath. “Exciting? I wish I shared your enthusiasm. I’m in a perpetual functional state of exhaustion.”
“I think it’s a huge relief that Domenico is responding well to our mixed blood, and Nino and Haruka’s. One less thing to be stressed about.”
He sits back hard in his seat, shaking his head. “Huge relief. God. All these years I’ve had to suffer alone. And listen to this—the doctor called me an hour ago and said he thinks Father’s biology is being healed from this mix of all of us. Something about the combination of me, Nino and our mates is making him stronger than he’s been in decades. Can you believe this shit? Fuck me.”
“Just focus on the positive.” Cellina smirks as he lifts his menu to read. She watches him in silence. Since they’ve bonded, he’s unquestionably more relaxed—the frown lines in his forehead almost invisible. It’s nearing the end of the busy season for the art gallery and Cellina is a little worn down herself.
“G.”
“Yes, beautiful.”
“Have you ever been on vacation?”
He looks up from the menu. “What’s that?”
“Stop…”
“How did you pronounce it again? Vay-kay-shon?” Giovanni laughs, setting his menu down. “I know what a vacation is, but I might as well not.”
“Okay…” Cellina folds her arms against the table, leaning in. “What’s your dream vacation?”
“Tanzania.”
Cellina narrows her eyes, suspicious. “Are you sucking up to me right now?”
“No.” Giovanni laughs. “When we were kids, you would go to your aunt’s estate in Zanzibar for a month every winter, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“When you came back, you painted this vivid fucking picture of the white sandy beach and the turquoise sea just outside her property. The exotic birds and palm trees. So I always wanted to go there and see it for myself.”
Cellina blinks, impressed. “Huh. You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you. I remember the first time you came to the house with your hair straightened in the late thirties. I remember overhearing you telling Nino about how much you loved Boyz II Men and Guy in the nineties, so I bought both albums and ended up loving that shit, too. I remember you dated that little second-gen prick Carlos Russo in the early 2000s that owns that popular seafood restaurant in Navigli. To this day I won’t set foot in his restaurant and he has no idea why.”
“The first two were sweet.” Cellina smiles, shaking her head. “But the last one was petty as hell.”
“I’m petty as hell.” Giovanni frowns in a kind of smile. “Fuck him. He’s lucky to be alive.”
They both laugh, but Cellina composes herself when the waiter returns to take their drink orders. When he leaves, she turns back to Giovanni, amused. “So you kept track of all the vampires I’ve dated and have covertly held grudges against them? Was this some kind of romantic gesture? I would prefer roses.”
“Yes and no.” Giovanni grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just jealous. And overthinking. Lying in bed at night—because that’s the only time I’ve ever had to myself—stressed about you bonding with some loser who was beneath you, and how I could put on a happy face, attend your wedding and congratulate you without throwing myself off the nearest skyscraper immediately after. But with you feeding Nino for a century, I knew you couldn’t offer your blood to anyone else while he was still leeching off you.”
“Not leeching,” Cellina scolds, even though Giovanni is somewhat right. That had been a constant point of contention throughout her dating life. It’d been difficult to explain: “Sorry, I can’t offer my blood because I’m my best friend’s source. No, we’re not romantically involved. No, we’re not bonding. He’s emotionally traumatized and I just have to support him. That alright with you?” Her relationships never lasted very long, but she’d never been too attached to anyone, either.
That is, except for the male sitting beside her. He always lingered in the back corner of her mind and heart. She ignored it for years—ignored him. He was always there though, occupying space.
Giovanni folds his arms. “I suppose in a way, he ended up helping me. I’ll never say it though… little cockblocking bloodsucker.”
“You being rude to Nino is getting old—what did you do to make him show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night a few weeks ago?”
He pauses, the guilt written all over his face. “He didn’t say anything?”
“No, he didn’t. I could tell he was upset, but he told me he supported us and that I should call you. I didn’t, but an hour later you showed up on my doorstep anyway. Spill it.”
Giovanni exhales a deep breath and looks away, keeping his mouth shut. Cellina smirks. “You don’t want to tell me because you know you did wrong.”
“Not wrong. But maybe… harsh.”
“Listen, Nino is doing fantastic, right? He’s not latched to my hip anymore or hiding in your estate. He’s bonded with an incredible creature who adores him and would do anything for him. He has his own business and contacts in a new realm, and you even admitted that you were impressed with what he’s established for himself. He went all the way to Yemen to help rescue enslaved vampires and solve a long-standing cultural mystery! Will you cut him some slack? You totally yelled at him, I know it. He’s not a kid—if you just talk, he’ll listen to you.”
“I know. I won’t do it again.”
“Tell him he’s doing a good job—he’ll really appreciate that from you.”
“I do… sometimes. It was just a bad moment.”
“Right. Listen.With all the stress and drama lately, we need a vacation. Nino and Haru have the right idea. I’m taking you to Tanzania.”
The light in Giovanni’s hazel-green eyes flickers. An innocent smile spreads across his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Maybe we can adjust our schedules and go this December? We’ll call it a honeymoon for our bonding. Or we can wait until after our official wedding in spring next year?”
“The sooner the better.” He grins. “God, I cannot fucking wait. A vacation.” His eyes shift straight ahead and Cellina follows his gaze. A small woman with caramel-colored skin and lustrous black hair is walking toward their table. They both stand in greeting. Cellina reaches out to shake her hand, thrilled as she introduces herself.
Armeena Khan is the successful owner of a contemporary art gallery in Madrid. She’s visiting Milan for the weekend but joining them for dinner at Giovanni’s personal request. If anyone can give insight with regard to owning a thriving art gallery in a major metropolis, it is this woman.
