Chapter 4
I put aside what had happened, although sometimes late at night, when I was alone and everyone else was sleeping, I recalled the emotions Ian had evoked. Not love. I had been nowhere close to that when his betrayal had been revealed. But I had been inching toward—optimism, perhaps. Hope, definitely. Hope that after all my years I had finally met someone who would accept me for what…for what I believed he knew I was. Not me the vampire but me the thief. Naïve of me. Yes. But I had begun to think that in time I could reveal all to him.
Three days after we returned to the city, I approached Bryce Milton to find out if he would be interested in owning one or more of the James Kiefer paintings which were still on exhibit at the Prentice Gallery. His reply was, “Do you even have to a
