Insatiable

a vampire feed on the girls in Insatiable. Tabby’s friends. And let him brainwash Tabby, and

let Tabby be his vampire bride.”

Sy pointed at Shoshona. “Vampire bride,” he yelled. “I love it. Even better, CDI loves

it!”

Meena contemplated getting up, walking over to Sy’s office window, opening it, and

jumping.

“And you haven’t heard the pièce de résistance,” Shoshona said. “I can get Gregory

Bane—”

Sy gasped and leaned forward. “ Yes? ”

Meena moaned and dropped her head into her hands. Gregory Bane played the vampire

on Lust. There wasn’t a single person on earth who was sicker of Gregory Bane than Meena.

And she’d never even met him.

“—to get Stefan Dominic to read for the part of the vampire,” Shoshona went on.

Sy, looking disappointed, sank back into his chair. “Who the hell is Stefan Dominic?” he

barked.

Shoshona smirked.

“Only Gregory Bane’s best friend, ” she said. “I mean, they go clubbing together

practically every weekend. I know you’ve seen his picture with Gregory in Us Weekly, Sy. The

press we’ll get from hiring him will be huge. I can’t believe no one’s snatched him up already.

And the best thing? He has his SAG card, and he can come in this Friday to read with Taylor.”

Shoshona looked like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “I already talked to him about it. He

goes to my gym.”

Suddenly, Meena knew exactly why Shoshona was spending so much time on that

treadmill. And it didn’t have anything to do with fitting into those Crewcuts.

“There is no way,” Meena said, fighting for inner patience, “that Taylor”—Taylor

Mackenzie was the actress who played Tabby—“is going to agree to play a vampire bride.”

Taylor had recently gone on a macrobiotic diet and hired a personal trainer, shrinking

herself down to Shoshona’s size. Although Taylor was delighted about this—and the attention

the tabloids were paying to her because of it—she needed to watch out if she too didn’t want to

end up in a coffin…something Meena had been trying to warn her about by leaving large deli

sandwiches in her dressing room. Not exactly subtle, but the best Meena could do.

“Tabby will like it if the network tells her to,” Shoshona said. “This is what ABN

wants.”

Meena was trying very hard not to grit her teeth. Her dentist had already chastised her

for doing this in her sleep and prescribed her a mouth guard. Meena dreaded wearing it,

because it wasn’t exactly the most romantic thing to show up wearing to bed. She looked like a

hockey goalie.

But it was that, the dentist said, or a new, less stressful job.

And there were none of those to be found. At least not in television writing.

And since Meena was currently sleeping alone, she guessed it didn’t matter what she

looked like anyway.

“Cheryl isn’t going to like it,” Meena warned them. Cheryl was the veteran actress

who’d played Victoria Worthington Stone for the past thirty years. “You know she’s been

hoping this is the year she’ll finally get that Emmy.”

Thirty years, ten marriages, four miscarriages, one abortion, two murders, six

kidnappings, and an evil twin later, and Cheryl Trent still had never won a single Daytime

Emmy.

It was a crime, in Meena’s opinion. Not just because Meena was one of Cheryl’s biggest

fans and getting to write for her was the thrill of a lifetime, but because Cheryl was one of the

nicest ladies Meena had ever met.

And part of Meena’s plan, in the story line she’d submitted to Sy—but which he’d just

passed over for Shoshona’s vampire plot—had been for Victoria Worthington Stone to fall for

Tabby’s new boyfriend’s father, a bitter police chief Victoria was going to help reunite with

his wayward son…giving Cheryl a sure shot at that golden statuette for which she so longed.

But a vampire story line? No one was going to be handing out Emmies for that.

“Yeah, well,” Shoshona said, narrowing her eyes at Meena, “Cheryl can cry me a river.”

Meena’s jaw dropped. This was the thanks she got for having saved Shoshona’s butt so

many times with her late scripts?

Why had she even bothered?

“I love it,” Sy said, snapping his fingers. “Run it past your aunt and uncle. I gotta go,

I’ve got a meeting.” He stood up.

“Sy,” Meena said. Her mouth felt dry.

“What?” He looked annoyed.

“Don’t…”

There were so many things she wanted to say. Felt as if she had to say. For the good of

her soul. For the good of the show. For the good of the country as a whole.

Instead, she just said, “Don’t take Fifth. There’s congestion. I heard it on 1010 Wins.

Have the cabbie take Park.”

Sy’s face relaxed. “Thanks, Harper,” he said. “Finally, something useful out of you.”

Then he turned and left the room.

Meena swiveled her head to stare daggers at Shoshona.

Not because she was irritated that she’d just saved Sy’s life—if he took Fifth, his cab

would, indeed, meet with congestion that would so irritate him, he’d get out and walk, causing

him to jaywalk injudiciously at Forty-seventh and be struck by a Fresh Direct truck—and he

wasn’t the least bit grateful, but because she knew what “Run it past it your aunt and uncle”

meant.

It meant Shoshona had won.

“ Vampires, ” Meena said. “Real original, Metzenbaum.”

Shoshona stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Get over it, Harper. They’re

everywhere. You can’t escape them.”

She turned and walked out.

And for the first time, Meena noticed the gem-encrusted dragon on the side of

Shoshona’s tote.

No. It couldn’t be.

But it was.

The Marc Jacobs tote Meena had secretly been lusting after for half a year but denying

herself because it cost $5,000.

And no way could Meena afford—or justify spending—that much money on a bag.

And, all right, Shoshona had it in aquamarine, not the ruby red that would perfectly

round out Meena’s wardrobe.

But still.

Meena stared after her, grinding her teeth.

Now she was going to have no choice but to make an emergency run at lunch to CVS in

order to restock her secret candy drawer.

Chapter Seven

12:00 P.M . EST, Tuesday, April 13

Walmart parking lot

Chattanooga, TN

A laric Wulf didn’t consider himself a snob. Far from it.

If anyone back at the office ever bothered to ask—and, with the exception of his partner,

Martin, none of those ingrates ever had—Alaric would have pointed out that for the first

fifteen of his thirty-five years, he’d lived in abject poverty, eating only when his various

stepfathers won enough money at the track, and then only if there was enough cash left over

for food after his drug-addicted mother was done scoring.

And so Alaric had chosen to live on the streets (and off his wits) in his native Zurich,

until child services caught him and forced him go to a group home, where he’d been surprised

to find himself much better cared for by strangers than he’d ever been by his own family.

It was in the group home that Alaric had been brought to the attention of, and eventually

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