“What?”

No respect whatsoever. Fire built along Doc’s muscles. “Council meeting.”

Remo laughed. “With one council member?”

“I’m making do.”

“All right. I’ll be up.”

“Soon,” Doc said.

More laughter. “What are you going to do? Start without me?”

Doc hit the button to disconnect and looked at Creek. “You may have to stop me from killing him.”

Creek blew out a breath. “You know that’s not really my area of expertise.”

Doc nodded and sat at his desk to wait. “Just make sure there’s enough of him left to stand trial.”

Damian nodded appreciatively at the penthouse’s foyer as he got off the elevator. The place was posh and seemed to be decorated in the style of the Primorus Domus with its gilding and ceiling mural. He studied the painted ceiling and snorted softly as he recognized the source. A copy of The Feast of the Gods by Bellini. How appropriate for a comarré. He brushed his fingers over the lion’s-head door knocker hanging off the bronze double doors. Oddly masculine, but he’d never known his mother, so he was in no position to judge her taste.

He held up the key the attorney had given him, waving it in front of the scanner. The bolt slid back and he tucked the key away. If the rest of the apartment looked anything like the foyer, he’d have to gut it and start over. He’d never be able to live in a replica of the place that had sold him into slavery. Of course, gutting the apartment would take money he didn’t have. Money he’d have to take from his mother’s estate.

He scowled at the thought. It felt so foreign to him to even think about a mother. Or a sister, for that matter. A sister who was pregnant with a vampire’s child.

He’d let Chrysabelle think he was happy for her, but in his gut, happiness wasn’t what he felt. He knew nothing about the vampire other than Mal had come with her to rescue him, but Damian hadn’t seen him since she’d returned from Corvinestri.

He might not have known Chrysabelle long, but his instincts to protect his sister had already kicked in. Any man, vampire or otherwise, who would create that kind of relationship with her only to disappear had a lot of explaining to do. Damian had endured nearly a hundred and twenty-two years of training. Killing a vampire who’d dishonored his sister wouldn’t be hard.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth, trying to calm himself. Chrysabelle was a grown woman. It wasn’t his place to interfere unless it was clear she was in danger and that hadn’t happened. Yet.

It was good this apartment was here. He should give her some space, especially with the baby on the way. Yes, they were family and they needed to get to know each other, but it was obvious she was going through something right now that only time could help. Besides, she’d risked her life to save his. He owed her that much.

He put a hand on the door and pushed.

The apartment inside was beautiful. Clean, modern lines and tall windows that looked out over the sparkling blue waters of the bay. The door swung softly shut behind him as he walked toward them to look out.

He planted himself before the glass and whistled softly. “Nice view.”

“Thank you. Can I ask what brings you here unannounced?”

Damian spun. “Dominic. What are you doing here?”

The vampire nodded. “Glad to know you remember me.” He tightened the tie of his silk robe. “And I believe I’m the one who should be asking you that question.” Small sparks of silver lit his eyes. “How did you get in here?”

Damian fished the key from his pocket and held it up.

The silver disappeared from Dominic’s eyes. “From Marissa’s attorney, no doubt.”

“So you know my mother owns this place?”

He smiled bitterly. “I should. I’m the one who gave it to her.” He pointed at the sleek leather chairs in the sitting room. “Please.” He turned toward the hall. “Isabelle. We have a guest.”

A moment later, a slender, lavender-eyed female in a clingy black dress glided toward them. Everything about her looked human, except for her lifeless, unnaturally colored gaze and weirdly plastic skin. “Hello, guest,” she intoned. “Would you like a beverage?”

“No, thanks.” He eyed the woman as he sat.

Dominic laughed. “To answer the question undoubtedly in your head, no, she’s not human. She’s a symbot.” He turned to Isabelle. “Lower the shades, please.” He glanced at Damian. “I hope you don’t mind, but even with the helioglazing, the sun is too bright for me this time of day.”

“That’s fine.” What a surreal conversation. He watched Isabelle while Dominic took the chair across from him. His hair was rumpled and stubble darkened his jaw.

“I take it I woke you from daysleep. Sorry about that, but I’m surprised. I hardly made a sound.” And most vampires went comatose during daysleep.

He shrugged. “Years of working at Seven. I sleep when I can and have trained myself to do it lightly. I have… enemies. I’m sure that does not shock you.”

“No. But I’m not one of them. I didn’t know you were living here.”

“Few do. Which is what I was striving for.” He nodded to Isabelle as she finished lowering the shades. “That is all.”

With a soft whirr, she disappeared back down the hall.

Damian leaned back. “You said you bought this place for my mother?”