Chapter 71

Let's Get The Party Started

Author's note: Given what they've been through, I think some fun is in order for these folks, don't you? I know I felt that way while I was writing the last chapter & the next couple. Is the threat over? No. Are they safe? For now. Mick is going to live but we don't yet know what the long-term effect on him will be. And how will all this impact the relationship between he and Beth? Can't say yet. Stay tuned…

Intro song: Get the Party Started, Pink

"Simone, I don't know about you, but I'm overwhelmed! How in the world are we supposed to choose?! More than a little tipsy from an afternoon of mimosas, Beth shook her head in bewilderment at the colorful array of dresses on the rack in front of them.

"That's what I'm here for, my dear." The cultured tones came from the professional stylist who had been supervising her assistant as he carried in one beautiful item of clothing after another. Another of Josef's surprises, Beth had thought with amusement when the woman had introduced herself a few minutes before. This was getting to be fun! What next, singing lessons?!

Carmen Hufstetler studied the two young women for a moment, eyeing them up and down with a speculative expression while she circled them. As the stylist completed her inspection, Simone glanced over at Beth and raised one eyebrow, simultaneously sucking in her cheeks for an exaggerated effect.

Beth's face turned bright red as she fought a losing battle to maintain her composure, finally surrendering and letting out a snort of amusement.

The beautiful brunette, who had consumed even more of the orange juice-and-champagne concoctions than her companion, responded by hollowing out her cheeks even further and crossing her eyes. That was too much for Beth, who broke into helpless gales of laughter.

"Is something wrong, Miss Turner?"

"No ma'am – I mean, Carmen," Beth answered dutifully, straightening, and shooting a murderous look at Simone, whose shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. As soon as the woman turned back to the rack of clothes, Beth reached over to punch her companion lightly on the arm. "Stop it," she mouthed, blue eyes wide as she shook her head warningly.

The lawyer bit her lip and straightened, pushing her heavy mane of dark hair back from her face. It was wonderful to see Beth finally relaxing and enjoying herself. About time. If anyone deserved it, it was her.

Simone Walker cared a great deal about Josef Kostan – maybe even loved him – but she could not imagine doing all that Beth had done to keep Mick alive. Did that make her a coward? No – a pragmatist. Involuntarily, her eyes were drawn to the long, pink scar on the inside of the young woman's left wrist.

Beth caught her look. "It doesn't hurt, Simone. It's just a little sensitive." Unconsciously, she ran her right forefinger down the slightly raised skin, shivering as the action reminded her of Mick's touch on that same spot.

"Uh-huh." Simone remained unconvinced. Let's get this show on the road. She remembered Josef's charge to her when he woke her this morning with an uncharacteristically tender kiss.

"I have some surprises planned for you and Beth today - my way of saying thanks." He had paused, reaching out to brush her hair back from her forehead.

"What?!" Simone had demanded, pushing herself to a sitting position.

"What part of the word 'surprise' don't you get?" The mischievous twinkle in Kostan's dark eyes had taken any sting out of the words. "Look, I know you – you will definitely have fun today. Do me a favor and try to see that Beth does too, okay?" Planting a kiss on her bare shoulder, he was gone. She had been determined that they would both have an enjoyable, relaxing day – and so far, she felt it had been a success. With that thought in mind, she stuck her tongue out at the stylist's back, watching Beth double over, wrapping her arms around her middle to steady herself. Tears of laughter streamed from her bright blue eyes.

Carmen whirled around, a tiny, stylishly emaciated figure, sporting a dark scowl. "I have a few more things to bring in and then we'll get started. Please don't touch anything until I return." With an imperious flick of her hand at her beleaguered assistant, she sailed out the door, the young man trailing unhappily behind.

"Poor boy," Simone commented dryly. "Remember, Beth, don't touch anything!" She shook one forefinger warningly

"Oh my god, you have to stop!" Beth choked out, her face aching from laughter.

"Exactly why should I?" The lawyer's tone conveyed the distinct impression that Beth was being unreasonable. "If you think for one minute that I'm going to let this lollipop woman tell us what we can and cannot wear… well, you'd better drink some more champagne! She is merely our supplier of fine clothing."

Beth thought this over… and then took her friend's advice and gulped down the bubbly liquid. Refilling her glass, she wobbled over to plop down on the plush, off-white sofa, positioned on a dazzling wool and silk hand-woven rug in a contemporary abstract design. The deep, rich colors in the rug were a perfect complement to the pale sofa and old wood floors, polished to a high sheen that gave them a modern feel.

Simone had explained to Beth that Josef had tried, wherever possible, to retain original floors, woodwork, and walls, commanding his protesting interior designer to make it work with his more modern taste.

In this room, Beth reflected, he had certainly been successful. The suite was apparently used by whichever paramour the vampire brought to the vineyard. The flavor of the month, she thought and immediately felt disloyal – to both Josef and Simone. After all the lawyer had done to help Mick – and her - she hoped that Simone meant more to Kostan than that.

"NO!"

Beth jumped at the sudden sound, spilling a few drops of the champagne concoction on her bare leg. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her.

Simone's nemesis had two black dresses draped over her arms, her assistant trailing behind her with an armful of black and charcoal selections. Simone was planted in front of the stylist, hands on slender hips.

"What did you say?!" Carmen's tone was challenging.

"I said… NO! No. Black!"

"But" the stylist protested, "black is perfect for Miss Turner! Black is classic, it's elegant, it's-"

"Boring! Predictable!" Simone broke in, waving one hand dismissively. Behind Carmen, Beth could see her assistant hide a smile at the young woman's audacity.

"Miss Walker, I think I've been doing this professionally for far longer than you…"

"Don't care," Simone stated almost gleefully, crossing her arms. "Carmen – may I call you Carmen?" Without waiting for a response, she continued. "Carmen, you may be a professional stylist, but I know what Mr. Kostan likes." She emphasized Josef's name, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Therefore, I'm telling you… no black!" She swayed slightly as she spoke, her inebriation undermining the authority she was trying to convey.

The older woman, however, recognized when she had met her match - tipsy or not. With an exasperated sigh, she turned to her assistant, who had been busying himself with hanging up black dress after black dress during the exchange.

"Barry, you may as well take all those dresses back to the van. Ms. Walker says we won't be needing them."

"Yeah, Barry," Simone chimed in. "You do that."

The young man's lips twitched as he tried not to laugh at his employer's outrage. Gathering up the dresses in one gigantic armload, he marched off, shaking his head in amusement.

"Simone!" Beth hissed, trying to get the attention of her out-of-control companion.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Turner," the fashion consultant sniffed audibly. "I still have a number of attractive dresses; I just won't be able to put you in the elegant dress I was envisioning. I'm sure we'll find something… serviceable." Carmen smiled stiffly as she handed Beth an array of dresses in every color under the rainbow.

"Miss Walker?"

Beth stood rooted to the spot, her arms full of dresses, waiting to see if Simone accepted what the older woman had picked out for her to try on. Not for the world would she miss this interchange!

Simone arched one well-groomed eyebrow and casually flicked through the dresses the woman held out, selecting three of them. "These will do for now. Thank you so much for your help, Carmen." Her voice was dripping with false sincerity.

The two women disappeared into the adjoining bedroom, leaving the stylist shaking her head.

These young women who appeared – and disappeared – from the arms of powerful, wealthy men like Josef Kostan were a dime a dozen – and none of them had any fashion sense. She sniffed and turned back to packing away the last of the rejected black dresses.

Beth leaned up against the door she had just closed behind Simone and howled into the mass of dresses she still held.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Turner!" Simone parroted, hands on hips. "Damn, the arrogance of that woman! Do you think Josef sent her just to get a rise out of me?" She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "No," she answered her own question. "He's good, but he's not that good. I mean, if he looked for months, he couldn't find someone who could piss me off as much as she can!"

"Oh my god." Beth staggered over to the bed, dropping the dresses in a heap on the ivory silk bedspread. "Simone, honestly, I've never seen you like that! I thought I was going to pass out just from holding my breath so I wouldn't laugh!" She collapsed onto the bed, letting herself fall back onto the soft covering as her head spun from the champagne.

"I'm going to need a nap to sleep off this champagne!" she announced cheerfully. Her legs dangled over the edge, a flip-flop hanging off one foot.

"Well," Simone said, strolling over to the full-length mirror on a stand in one corner, where she held a dress up speculatively in front of her, "women like that drive me crazy. They've somehow managed to hitch their wagon to someone rich or famous, so they think that people like you and me are beneath them. As if being born without a lot of money somehow prevents a person from having good taste!" she huffed.

She tossed her dark hair back in irritation. "The good news though…" She paused and twirled back around toward Beth, still holding the dress in front of her. "The good news is that, underneath all that snobbery, those types of people have very little self-esteem. It's so easy to rattle their cages that it should probably be criminal to do it. What do you think of this one?"

Beth propped herself up on one elbow. Simone had gathered up her hair with one hand, pinning it on top of her head, while she held the dress up with the other. The additional dresses the lawyer had brought into the bedroom were pooled at her feet, like a multi-colored pond.

"I think," Beth began, eyeing her up and down, "that dress will look spectacular on you - and it's perfect for tonight." Suspiciously, she asked, "You wanted that one all along, didn't you?!"

"Guilty as charged!" Simone grinned. "I spotted this color the second she hung it up on the rack. I knew it was the one."

Beth shook her head in admiration and then reluctantly rolled over toward the mass of color next to her on the bed. "I wish I had your style sense - and your figure!" She reached out and fingered the beaded hem of one dress.

Simone snorted. "And here I was, wishing that I was built more like you! Isn't that always the way! No wonder men can get in our heads. Okay, there are a few good options in that mess."

Walking over to the bed, she rummaged through the selection for a moment, pulling several dresses free. Laying them out on the bed, she pushed the remainder to the floor and studied them thoughtfully.

"Try those three."

Beth looked doubtfully at her choices. "They're awfully bright... and short."

"Beth! This is a party, not a funeral! And you have great legs - you need to show them off a little." Simone added wickedly, "Besides, I think Mick should see what he's missing."

Her companion's face flamed bright red in embarrassment. How was it possible that their sex life - or lack thereof - seemed to be the topic of discussion with everyone here? "How did you know-"

"That you and Mick have to abstain? Oh, Josef, of course. That little tidbit was way too tasty for him to keep to himself - he doesn't have that much self-control! I imagine everyone at the vineyard knows by now. He might even have put it on the invitations…" Simone smiled kindly at the obviously distressed young woman. "It wasn't done out of meanness, Beth. Josef is just having a good time the Kostan way - make life hell for those you care the most about!"

Beth sighed. "Well, I guess there's nothing I can do about it now. I should have expected it - you'd think I'd have learned by now." She straightened and squared her shoulders. "I am not going to let him get to me though, dammit. Sorry, Simone, I know he's your boyfriend... or employer... whatever. Sometimes he just makes me so angry, though."

The brunette burst out laughing. "And you think he doesn't piss me off?! Oh, Beth, I completely understand. I want to stake him at least once a day!" Impulsively, she leaned over to hug the young woman. "Let's get them both so hot and bothered, they are tripping over their own tongues all night. So... I'm going to go with this little number and you try on the yellow dress and the blue dress. Forget the lavender one. Now that I look at it in light of all this, it's just a little too 'sweet'. We want smokin' hot sex tonight - not sweet. I'm betting on the blue, myself."

Beth nodded, and gathered up the two potential choices, feeling more carefree than she had in a very long time. Tonight was going to be fun.

This is going to be fun. Dapper in a black Armani suit, crisp white dress shirt and colorful, multi-colored striped BVLGARI silk tie, Josef Kostan stood, arms crossed, surveying the terrace. A jazz quartet with a sultry front singer was tuning up, the candles and Chinese lanterns were lit, the bar was well-stocked, and a sumptuous, albeit small, buffet was laid out on a corner table.

There were few humans attending this very private party, so, while the need for food was small, the bar that had been set up in the opposite corner of the terrace was laden with bottles and carafes of every size, and shape. A bartender was putting the final touches on the arrangement. The predominant color, was red. Blood red.

The billionaire had tapped into his private stash to provide a wide array of rare and exotic blood types, some enhanced with the alcohol or drugs the donor had ingested. It made for quite a bounty for the vampire guests about to arrive. However, he thought to himself, not one of them was likely to be more delicious or rare than that of one of the guests of honor. He had smelled Beth Turner enough to have an idea of how she might taste. An idea... and a thirst.

For a moment, he felt a twinge of envy that Mick St. John possessed something he could not. Something he couldn't buy, borrow, or steal - a situation he was not used to. Beth's blood was only part of it. The love and passion the two shared were even more precious, even more to be envied... He caught himself. Don't be an ass, Kostan! He had been given the same shot at the kind of love that Mick had now - and he wouldn't trade one day with his Sara, not even for a carafe full of Beth's most-certainly exquisite blood. They hadn't discussed it, but Josef had vowed to himself to do everything in his power to ensure that his best friend got with Beth what he had not had with Sara... time. Time with the love of his life. He shook his head. Wasn't this exactly what he had lectured Mick against? Chastising himself for the melancholy and self-pity he seemed to be descending into, he turned his attention to the serving team gathered before him.

"All right. The first of our guests should be arriving shortly. Vampires first; the humans' invitations are for a half hour later. The carafes are all labeled. There's an array that should satisfy everyone. If not, though - if someone asks for something not in the selection or doesn't appear to be drinking - you let me know right away. I want everyone to be well-fed and happy before our human guests show up. Capisce?"

The bartender and servers nodded wordlessly. They had all worked for Kostan Industries for several years and were not thrown by the thought of being surrounded by hungry vampires. Josef trusted them - as much as he trusted any random humans that knew their secret. It was always a gamble to allow others to know of their existence, but a necessary one - there just weren't enough vampires to handle all the needs of one another. He minimized the risk by paying even the lowliest servers a king's ransom for their work - money well-spent in his estimation.

Dave Adkins, Kostan's vineyard manager, regarded the team dispassionately, confident in their ability to handle the night ahead. His wife was not among them. He had been pressed into service for tonight by his employer, who wanted to be free to enjoy the evening once guests began to arrive.

At least that was the excuse the billionaire had given him. Dave wasn't privy to the real reason Josef conscripted him for this affair. Under Adkin's experienced oversight, the Kostan vineyard was now running like clockwork. No more waste, no more worker issues... the man was a born manager of people. An asset at any point in time, that skill might prove particularly helpful tonight.

Josef was pleased with himself in his choice of a vineyard manager. The vineyard was now producing premium stock - due in large part to Dave's contributions. Even if he didn't decide to broadly market it, such quality wine was all but required when courting the elite - which meant that, in addition to providing an opulent hideaway, the operation could also function as a nice tax shelter. There were many benefits to owning the vineyard - some tangible, some less concrete - and the highly skilled vineyard master was a cornerstone in Josef's plans.

Yes, he was pleased with his choice. He was even more proud, however, of the way he had talked the man into staying on after his wife turned in her notice. Josef had developed a master plan for keeping the vineyard manager on - a simple one.

He had walked into the kitchen where his hard-working manager was taking a coffee break and laid a piece of paper in front of him with a number written on it. A large number.

"What's this?" Dave had asked, picking up the heavy linen paper in one work-calloused hand.

"Your yearly salary - if you stay. Plus, I'll set you up for profit-sharing."

Adkin's jaw had dropped. "B- but..." he'd sputtered. The amount was more than he had made in the last five years combined - even when included with his very healthy salary from his first year heading up the Kostan Vineyard operations.

Just as Josef had expected, Dave Adkin's response was like those of so many others over the years. In business circles, Kostan Industries was known for its generous salaries and other rewards for high performers. This strategy was based on Josef's hard-won experience - and, in fact, had been key to his success – and survival - over the centuries. He'd lost count of how many humans he'd paid handsomely to provide vital information about a village, a monarchy, the Church, or any number of people who were hunting vampires - and that had been why he'd managed to keep his head. Many of his compatriots over the centuries had not been quite so fortunate.

Protection, food, shelter, information, business... it was really all the same. Know what you want, figure out the Achilles heel of those you need, make a plan, seal the deal. If you did that right, the cost was meager compared to the long-term payoff; and being a vampire was all about the long-term. Sure, occasionally, someone ended up in the tar pit... but that was only when absolutely necessary. Contrary to popular perception, killing was a very poor long-term business strategy and not one he enjoyed.

At first, the middle-aged man had just stared at the number disbelievingly, as if trying to make sense of it. Then, shaking his head, he had held the sheet of paper back out to the billionaire. "Look, Mr. Kostan. I appreciate this offer but..."

Josef had held up one hand, silencing him. "Dave, just think it over. I know what I'm asking. I know that what happened to my friend was too much for Marguerite to take. I understand that. And I'm sorry if it caused problems between the two of you."

In point of fact, he knew exactly what kind of trouble had arisen between the couple. Sometimes a vampire's acute hearing was his best ally - and Josef had used it shamelessly to eavesdrop on their arguments.

The housekeeper had adamantly refused to continue working at the vineyard, regardless of the money, while Dave had steadfastly held to the stance that they could not approach their combined salary and working conditions anywhere else - and reminded his wife of the college tuition bills that their only child generated now that she was in graduate school. The conversation had told the billionaire everything he needed to know - information he had put to good use.

"Believe me, I would certainly rather it not have happened - and I know Mick would have been thrilled. Something like this has never happened before - but I can't, in good conscience, stand here and tell you that nothing like it will ever happen again."

When the vineyard manager had remained silent, Kostan had continued. "I don't blame Marguerite. It's a lot for anyone to absorb - and many people just can't handle the fact of our existence, even when things are going swimmingly. I like her though - and I like you and respect the hell out of what you've done here so far. Lord knows, there isn't a better vineyard manager alive. So that amount would be your salary – and Marguerite would continue to draw her full salary, whether she works here another day or not."

When he saw the man's eyes widen, he had delivered what had proved to be the final bit of persuasion needed. "And, of course, I would consider it an honor to cover the cost of Meg's graduate studies. Wasn't there a program in Europe she wanted to study with for a semester?"

After promising to talk the offer over with his wife, Dave had offered his hand to the vampire. "I want to thank you for this offer and for considering my family in all this, Mr. Kostan."

Josef knew he had him. If a refusal wasn't immediately forthcoming, money always had a way of talking a person into doing things he or she might not otherwise do. It whispered seductively in one's ear, cajoling, arguing, convincing...

Dave's conversation with Marguerite had been short.

"We are taking this offer, M. It will set us up for life - and, more importantly, it will set Meg up for life."

The trim, middle-aged woman's face had flushed as she toyed with the saltshaker on their kitchen table. "I don't like the idea of him having anything to do with Meg! He's evil - they are all evil."

"No," he said patiently, "they aren't. Your view of them is from the movies, my dear. I know Josef - Mr. Kostan. How many employers have ever known or cared anything about us? About our family?" While he would never say it to his employer, it was the fact that Josef remembered their daughter's name and knew about the program she was interested in, that clinched his decision to stay, rather than the money itself, considerable though it was.

Dave saw the fear in his wife's face and his tone softened. He reached out to take her hand reassuringly. "Honey, you don't ever have to set foot in that house again if you don't want to. Mr. Kostan will keep paying you your salary, regardless. You won't have to work again; won't that be nice? I'd love to see you take it easy for once. We'll even move off the property if you want to - although god knows where we'd find anything this nice again. "Besides," he added, "the vampires are hardly ever here anyway. We have the place to ourselves most of the time."

Studying the face he knew so well, he could see that his words were having an effect. "M, I don't want you to be unhappy - and I certainly don't like backing you into a corner - but I'm staying on. I have to. For our family's sake."

Marguerite had reluctantly agreed to go along.

Tonight, when he was dressing to go to the main house to help with the party, she had scoffed at him. "See, he owns you now. That's what all this money is getting you - no free will."

Adjusting his tie in the mirror, Dave had looked at his wife's reflection. "M, just for your information - I volunteered to help out tonight and Josef took me up on it." Seeing the stricken look on her face, he turned around and took her in his arms. "What are you afraid of?" he asked softly.

"I- I don't know," she had stammered.

"Honest answer!" Laughing, he had deposited a kiss on the tip of her nose before heading out the door. "Don't wait up," he'd called over his shoulder, as he strode up the manicured lawn toward the well-lit house positioned at the top of the small hill. He understood his wife's reluctance to interact with vampires. As for himself... he was honestly looking forward to the evening. His curiosity was piqued.

Josef, having given his final instructions to the crew, turned to his vineyard manager and said, "I'm leaving all this in your hands, Dave. I need to go check on the guest of honor. I swear, if the man didn't shave..." He moved off, shaking his head.

Adkins resolved to watch his serving team closely and ensure that everything ran smoothly tonight. In his mind, he owed his employer that much, at least.

Beth hesitated for a moment before knocking on Simone's door. She glanced down at the bright dress she was wearing and nervously smoothed the filmy hem down. "A few more inches of fabric would be helpful," she muttered darkly, then rapped sharply.

"Come in!"

Simone sounded as bubbly as the alcohol they had sipped all day. In fact, Beth had had to go back to her much-smaller bedroom for a long nap to sleep off the effects of the champagne before having her hair done - the first time she'd had to resort to that in a long time. It had also been the first time she'd had to herself all day. If being wealthy requires this kind of preparation every time there's a party, they can have it.

She poked her head around the door, peaking into the suite. "You ready to go, Simone?"

"Almost. Come in, Beth. I have something for you." The slim brunette, gorgeous in a short, strapless green dress, motioned her in.

"What is it? We should go down to the party." A note of impatience crept into Beth's voice. It had been hours since she had seen Mick and she was anxious to find him.

Simone glanced at her watch. "We have almost a half-hour before the 'human' part of the party starts. What's your rush?" Then, she broke into a grin. "Oh. Yeah. I get it. Mick. The man is gorgeous - but I don't think he's gonna get any less so if it takes you a few more minutes to get to him. And he's fine now. Have some more champagne with me."

Beth accepted the tall crystal flute reluctantly, eyeing the bubbles rising in the clear golden liquid. "I shouldn't. You know I had to crash this afternoon after all we drank with lunch... and then those massages..."

"Don't forget while we were meeting with our 'stylist'." Simone raised her eyebrows for emphasis.

"How could I?! I think that memory will be burned into my brain forever!" Both young women laughed.

"Seriously, Beth, you look amazing. I cannot wait to see Mick's face when he gets a look at you." The lawyer reached out to grab her friend's hand and twirl her around. "You should always wear that color. I love your hair too."

Smiling, Beth collapsed into a chintz overstuffed chair, positioned by the bay window on one side of the sitting room, carefully balancing her almost-full champagne flute. "Thank you. You look pretty phenomenal yourself. It's just as I always thought, though."

When Simone paused in her preening in front of the full-length antique mirror to look over at her curiously, Beth added, "It's much easier to look great when you have all the money."

Simone nodded. "You are right about that. Oh - and speaking of that - Josef thought we might need a little additional 'dressing up' so he sent us each a gift. Made me promise not to open mine 'till you were here and we could open them together." This last comment was called from the bedroom, where she had run while she talked. Returning, she dangled an elaborate gift bag in front of Beth, holding a matching one for herself.

Reluctantly, Beth reached up to take the bag, setting her champagne flute on the antique side table. "He's done enough, Simone. This has been an amazing day - I feel like a new woman. No more parkas and ponytails." She made a face. "And I saw the label in this dress. There is no way I could ever afford an original Marchesa design."

Simone snorted. "Well, I feel the same - I don't exactly have a closet full of Vera Wang originals either. But look, we didn't ask Josef to do any of this. He wanted to. He enjoys this. He's so grateful that Mick is alive and well again - almost well, that is," she hastened to add. "He wants to show his gratitude - and, believe me, he can afford to. Let him have his fun, okay?"

Beth nodded and forced a smile. She was grateful to Josef for his generosity – but she had been raised to stand on her own two feet and be beholden to no one. It was hard for her to relax in the face of such largesse. Her companion interrupted her train of thought.

"Well, let's dig in, shall we?" Simone immediately began to rip through the tissue paper, coming up with a large box and a note written on stiff linen card stock, embossed with Josef's initials.

She paused to read over the note, smiling slyly as she did. Feeling Beth's eyes on her, she waited, her hands resting in the bag. "Go on, Beth," she urged. "I want to open them together."

Beth pulled similar items out of her gift bag, surprised by the heft of the box. She turned her attention first to the note, handwritten on the same thick paper as Simone's.

My Lovely Beth:

If I know you (and I'm beginning to), you are telling Simone right about now that you don't like to accept expensive gifts. That's an attitude I would normally applaud, unusual as it is. This, however, is not a normal day. It's a day of celebration for the saving of a man's life - a man whom, I think we all agree, richly deserved to be saved.

Simone will think this gift is to thank you for your part in keeping Mick alive these past two weeks - and, to a degree, she's right. I know what you have sacrificed and today is a small gesture of appreciation for that. You should also know, however, that I am mostly thanking you for loving and accepting Mick. Your love has saved him in ways that I cannot begin to describe. Thank you for returning my friend to me.

Affectionately yours,

Josef

P.S. If you tell anyone I wrote this, I'll deny it with my last breath...

Beth looked up at an expectant Simone, her throat tightening with unshed tears.

"Well?!" Simone demanded.

"Nothing," Beth sniffed. "You know Josef - I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

"Don't cry! It took a half hour to get your eye makeup just right - you can't ruin it!" To distract her friend, Simone suggested, "Let's see what he gave us!"

Each woman opened her box with the anticipation usually reserved for gifts on Christmas morning.

"Oh my," Simone said softly.

Beth was speechless as she lifted a heavy platinum bracelet out of the paper. It was at least two inches wide, its highly polished surface silky to the touch. One edge was smooth; the other, however, was an uneven line that resembled parchment paper when torn. That edge was lined with small, brilliant stones, many the same color as her dress. The card enclosed in the box described the piece of jewelry as a platinum cuff, edged with blue, white, and yellow diamonds.

Simone was sliding on a similar bracelet. Hers, however, was yellow gold, highlighted by stones the exact shade of her emerald-colored dress, interspersed with diamonds.

"This is incredible," Beth breathed, unable to bring herself to try it on. Instead, she sat with the heavy piece of jewelry in her hand, turning it over and over. This is probably worth more than my car. Looking up at her friend, she asked, "I can't believe he was able to find something that matched a dress color that bright."

"Me either, especially on such short notice. Mine are emeralds, according to the card. He must have had these cuffs all ready to go, just waiting on us to pick out our dresses to select stones."

Simone held her arm up, admiring the way the stones caught the light. Speculatively, she said, "Damn, if I'd known he was going to match the stones to the dress, I'd have picked out something only diamonds would go with - white, I guess..."

Catching sight of Beth's face, she trailed off, laughing. "I'm kidding, Beth! Besides, emeralds this vivid are actually rarer than diamonds..." She inspected the gift. "Even for Josef, he's outdone himself. Put yours on!" she urged.

Hesitantly, Beth pushed the heavy bracelet over her hand and slid it up a few inches. It hugged her slim forearm as snugly as a lover's hand, the precious metal growing warm from the contact with her skin.

"Perfect!" Simone declared, clapping her hands together. "Remind me that I need to show Josef my appreciation tonight." She grinned wickedly. Diving back into the bag, she pulled out a smaller box, containing large stud earrings set with emeralds matching those of her bracelet. "Ohhh," she said softly, "I love these. Check your bag again, Beth."

The young woman opened a similar box containing large blue diamond studs. "I can't accept all this, Simone. It's way too extravagant."

Stopping in the act of refilling both their glasses with more champagne, Simone burst out laughing. "That's so funny, Beth. That is almost exactly what Josef said you'd say! Oh - and he also wrote that if you did say that, I should tell you that there's not a snowball's chance in hell that he'll let you leave here without it."

Beth caressed the smooth metal of the bracelet, saying, almost wistfully, "It is beautiful..."

"There you go. All settled!" Simone pronounced. "So," she continued, turning back to the champagne, I think you just need to resign yourself to looking like a million dollars tonight, and drinking a lot of this wonderful champagne." She emptied the bottle into Beth's champagne flute and brought the glass to her. "I love Krug Champagne, don't you?"

"Honestly? Never heard of it! If it isn't Brut or Andre, I probably haven't had it - before today that is." Tilting the glass, Beth giggled as the champagne's carbonation tickled her nose.

"Okay, well, let me tell you what Josef taught me about this Krug. This is Clos Du Mesnil 1995 - probably weighs in at about $750 per bottle." Simone nodded as Beth gasped at the number. "I know, right? Krug is supposed to be one of the oldest and most famous Champagne houses in the world. They don't advertise; the wines are just sold by word of mouth. Our Mr. Kostan, and the owner, Henri Krug, go way back. Waayyy back," she repeated, lifting one eyebrow for emphasis.

"You mean- "

"Absolutely. From one vamp to another. He's apparently the one who got Josef interested in owning a vineyard - for which I will be forever grateful. I love this place."

"I can understand that; it's lovely here." Beth didn't say what she was thinking. Temecula would be seen as beautiful to most people. Beautiful and peaceful. For her, however, the vineyard would always be tainted by the horrific events that had transpired here. She couldn't wait to put it in her rear-view mirror and get back to Mick's L.A. penthouse. With a gulp, she drained her glass, determined to squash these memories, at least for tonight. "One more?" she asked, holding out her flute.

"Absolutely! Now you're getting with the program!" Simone crowed, jumping back up to open a fresh bottle. "One more for the road."

Beth couldn't help thinking that if they finished off another bottle of this champagne, they might need a designated driver to get down that particular road.

Josef and Mick stood on the threshold of the study, the French doors swung open wide to the veranda to admit the cool evening breeze. Mick started to walk out, but Josef put a hand on his arm. "Give it a minute," he cautioned, nodding toward the last rays of the sinking sun crossing the slate surface of the terrace.

"Josef, I'm not going to melt," Mick protested. "I appreciate the concern and all... Dad... but I'm fine."

"For the last time," Josef gritted between clenched teeth, "I am NOT your sire! You were re-turned, not turned."

Mick smiled to himself, secretly delighted at the testy reaction. Yeah, Kostan could dish it out, but he sure couldn't take it! "Well, thanks for picking out my clothes, anyway... Dad."

"You know, keep that up and I might be tempted to test how 'fine' you really are... maybe a love tap to the chest...?" Josef smiled tightly. "At least you shaved that damn beard. I thought maybe you were going for the Charlton Heston role in a remake of 'Ben Hur'!"

Mick threw back his head and laughed, a deep belly laugh that felt good, despite pulling at his incision. Recovering, he said, still snickering, "No, Moses."

Now, it was Josef's turn to laugh. Then, sobering, he clapped the younger vampire on the back. "Maybe Lazarus is more appropriate. Seriously, I'm just glad to see you upright again, Mick. You scared the shit out of me."

"I scared the shit out of myself too. But thank you, Josef. For everything." The two friends shook hands, then, almost sheepishly, embraced.

As they broke apart, Josef quipped, with typical Kostan wit - and the need to defuse his emotion - "Oh... and I'm sending you the bill for those clothes. Be prepared - Tom Ford doesn't come cheap!"

Mick smiled. He knew Josef well enough to understand that shorthand. Nothing scared the billionaire like honest emotions. Still, the clothes were nice...

Josef had been thoughtful in his selection of attire for the injured man. A well-fitted, soft cashmere sweater, with no buttons or zippers to rub against still-healing skin, was a welcome change from the thin shirts and sweats Mick had been wearing. The pale navy wool complimented the exquisitely-tailored, deep navy Tom Ford suit and made him feel as if he were appropriately dressed for the party.

Gabrielle, just entering the terrace from a door at the far end, arm in arm with John Spector, caught sight of the two handsome, impeccably dressed men as they stepped out from the doorway. Oh my, she thought, tonight is going to be fun…

End Song: Bad Boy, Luther Vandross