Chapter Six

We finally arrived at a restaurant, and he got down at the parking lot while I did the same. I looked around the location, Chevron L'eau, an upscale establishment owned by a mixed breed.

That meant the kitchen catered to every demographic in Noctara, serving distinct menus for vampires, humans, and wolves alike.

"You bring my sister here, don't you?"

"Why? You don't like this place?" he replied, already making a move toward the entrance.

"It's okay," I answered, following a step behind him.

Surprisingly, he reached the heavy glass door, pulled it open, and held it. I paused in my tracks, staring first at him and then at the open entryway.

"What? Aren't you getting in, or am I supposed to hold this all night?"

Elias holding a door for me? I sized him up with my eyes before stepping past him. He followed, letting the door click shut behind us.

We crossed the expansive, dimly lit interior, the quiet hum of jazz floating over polished marble floors, until we settled at a private corner booth behind floor-to-ceiling glass walls that looked out over the quiet night sky of Sable City.

I settled into my chair, and he sat down directly opposite me. A sleek service robot glided toward our table almost instantly.

"Your best on the menu," Elias said, before turning his eyes to me. "Aren't you going to order?"

"Just an Americano coffee. I'm on a diet."

He scoffed. "On a diet?"

"Why? Am I not allowed to be on a diet? I mean, you didn't even tell me where you were bringing me..."

"The orders," he interrupted smoothly, speaking to the machine. The robot bowed its head and glided away. Elias turned back to me, resting his hands on the table. "Okay, you were saying?"

"Fuck you, Elias," I said under my breath, biting my lip as I leaned back into the soft leather seat and crossed my arms tightly over my chest. "So, why are we here?"

"Shouldn't that wait until I've eaten? I'm starving," he said, tapping a hand against his stomach. "I'm not like you, you know."

"What do you mean..." I bit my lower lip, cutting myself off as the service robot returned, bearing a silver tray to set up his table with a polished dinner plate.

"This is our signature starter," the robot announced in a smooth, synth-tuned voice, placing a delicate portion of pan-seared venison topped with truffle reduction before Elias. "Prepared by Executive Chef Vane using prime game cuts from the Northern territories."

Elias picked up his fork and began to eat while I watched in silence. Within minutes, the plate was cleared, and a second robot glided over to swap it for the next course.

"Slow-braised beef short ribs marinated in rich vintage blood-wine," the machine chimed, setting down the steaming dish. "Complemented with roasted winter root vegetables."

Then came a third presentation, until they finally delivered their main signature course, a flawless, thick-cut dry-aged steak paired with seasoned garlic butter.

Before long, Elias was comfortably swirling a glass of dark red wine in his right hand.

He tilted the glass, watching the thick crimson legs streak down the crystal, brought it to his nose to inhale the rich aroma, and then, as if he were finally bored of playing with his food, raised his eyes to meet mine.

My Americano sat untouched between my hands. My legs were crossed, my gaze locked onto him the entire time. Watching him was the only way I could anchor the hot, restless anger churning inside me.

"Did you get a good look at me eating?"

"What?"

"I was trying to feed your memory of me, since you're so into me."

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my coffee and setting it down with a firm clink against the table. "I still remember you saying I should stop having a thing for you because you're my brother-in-law."

"Did I say that?"

"Do you have memory loss?"

"That's no way to speak to your brother-in-law."

"Shouldn't you be picking a side now?!" I snapped quietly, the thread of my patience wearing paper-thin. I was getting so tired of this back-and-forth, yet here I was, glued to this seat and unable to move an inch.

Did I really enjoy watching him eat? Damn it, he must have been reveling in the satisfaction because he was entirely right, I *had* enjoyed every second of watching those broad shoulders and calloused hands move.

"Why are we here?" I demanded, leaning forward. "Are you still going to dodge the question?"

"I told you earlier," he said, his voice dropping into a calm, measured register. "You're going to help me save my marriage."

"And how do you intend for me to do that?"

Elias leaned in across the small table, his deep brown eyes staring straight into mine. "You should know by now."

"What do you mean I should know by now?"

"You're not clueless, are you? Or do you just want me to explain everything to you like a child?"

What was he actually trying to say? In all my twenty-five years of life, had I ever been this completely frustrated by a person?

"You know," Elias started, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his wine glass, "from the ancient history of vampires, I once read a story. It said that whenever a marriage starts proving difficult between a couple, the sister steps in to help save it."

If only I understood even a fraction of what he was sitting there majestically blabbering about... "What story, and what difficulty?"

"Sexual difficulty," Elias murmured, his dark gaze unwavering. "The sister steps in to help..."

"Are you having sexual difficulty with my sister?" I asked, suddenly sitting up straight as the word *sexual* slammed into my brain.

There was no way in hell he was having sexual difficulties with Cynthia. Was he? That would be a massive, explosive bomb. I had never pictured something like that in a million years.

He just stared at me, silent and composed.

A slow, disbelieving smile crept onto my face. "So I'm right? You're having sexual difficulties with my sister? And you think that this 'difficulty' you're tip-toeing around is the reason she's ditching you for another man?"

Wasn't he hilariously pathetic right now? Who knew Elias Hart could disguise raw desperation behind such sophisticated corporate phrasing?

"And where the hell did you read such ridiculous vampire history anyway?"

"Are you going to help or not?" he pressed softly.

"Help with *what*?" I asked teasingly.

Elias leaned in close, the distance between our faces shrinking until I could feel the solid heat radiating off his skin. Then, just as quickly, he pulled back.

"Sleeping together."

"Sleeping together..." I paused, my brain stalling out. "Wait...WHAT?!"

I blinked, my mouth hanging half-open as the air rushed out of my lungs. "Sleeping..."

Elias took a slow, composed sip of his wine, watching me struggle to catch my breath like it was the most entertaining show in Sable City.

"You want me to sleep with you?" I whispered harshly, my heart hammering against my ribs. "That way... you can strengthen your relationship with my sister?!"

The ancient texts...

Memory flooded back to me, a dark, dusty tome I had flipped through years ago in my mother's private study. I had dismissed it as complete rot at the time.

It was an old, archaic custom: when a married couple faced severe bedroom incompatibility or a dying spark, the husband would turn to his wife's sister.

The ancient vampires believed that engaging intimately with someone sharing the same bloodline would unlock what was missing, rekindling the husband's instinct and saving the primary union.

It was absolute bullshit, of course, an absurd, male-designed excuse engineered to let husbands cheat with their sisters-in-law under the guise of 'marital preservation.'

And here Elias was, dusting off that exact garbage and throwing it straight into my face.

I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging raw crescents into my palms as I stared at him in utter disbelief.

"Looks like you finally understand," Elias said smoothly, setting his wine glass down onto the table with a final, definitive click.