Read Online Vampire Money (Paranormal billionaire erotic romance) by Delia Dirk - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Delia Dirk
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pieces?”
“Because he's a vampire! I mean, the guys gave up blood, they gotta survive somehow. He's practically starving himself at this rate, but he's made a couple slips, stolen bigger amounts out of hunger, or desperation, or whatever. I've got a couple other guys in here he matches up with really well.” I thrust the folder at her.
She sighs, refuses to look at me. “Alright, alright, I'll... I'll look it all over in the morning.” My first victory of the night: she takes the folder. “I'm not saying you're right about Solomon, but I'll give the matter some thought.” Her hand on the door, stepping back into her house.
“Thank you so much, ma'am. You don't know what this means to me. I mean, a girl's gotta eat.”
The nice thing about the higher ups of Fortune 500 companies is that they've all got their names on their doors. Makes it way easier than when I'm going after one of the small-time operators. Hell, executives are falling so hard over themselves to let the world know who they are that sometimes they have crap like photos of themselves in their offices. Though it can be kinda hard to tell them apart, and let me tell you that can lead to some ugly situations.
Ah, there's our boy, Solomon Luria. He must be running out of names to use, too. Hah. It's a nice place, big window, some gold stuff, you know how it is. At least there's no framed self-portraits or anything this time.
I make my way around the oversized desk to plop myself in front of the computer. This, I've done a million and a half times. Not that it wouldn't be easy even if I'd never tried it before. Just gotta bring a USB key with a couple programs on it and copy those files over somewhere a person would never look.
The whole thing should only take a couple minutes, but I've mistimed myself. Misread the schedule or maybe the whole thing's running a bit off, I don't know, but damn it if the man himself doesn't suddenly loom in the office door. Terrible.
He's a tall guy, well built but pale, tailored suit, slick hair, easy to picture a cigar in his hand. Bit different from your average blood sucking freak, but totally normal for your big money grubbing one. Reminds me a bit of Gordon Gekko, and I've always had a thing for Michael Douglas.
“Sorry, sir!” I simper, “I was told you were in an important meeting. I'm just doing a system upgrade. For some reason your machine wasn't letting us in remotely so I had to walk over from IT.” And if he questions me, I can always start throwing technical terms at him.
He looks at his watch – who the hell still wears a watch these days? “That's alright, I've got a few minutes to spare.” He smiles, and I get an eyeful of his pearly whites. My, what big teeth you have.
And I think I've about got away with the whole thing, but then the fucker starts up with the small talk. And that's just damn weird. “Have you been working here long? I don't think I've seen you around before.”
“Oh, yeah I'm just a consultant. They're doing system-wide modifications so they brought in a couple of us to help out. I'll be done here soon.”
“But, you know, you look familiar somehow. Have we met?” His brow furrows slightly and he's sort of – lounging? He's got an arm draped out and is twirling an embossed pen around his fingers.
“I doubt it, sir. I'm new in town.”
“Really? So am I, actually. I was in São Paulo for a few years.” His eyes stay on my face. I don't like it. “It's almost like moving to a different universe.”
5... 4... 3... come the fuck on...
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Toronto,” I lie. The file's transferred, I'm done, I'm gone. “You can have your computer back now.” I'm practically running out of the room.
“Just a second.” His lightly cultured voice grips me like a fist. Vampires. “You really do look familiar. Are you sure we haven't met?”
“I've never seen
“Because he's a vampire! I mean, the guys gave up blood, they gotta survive somehow. He's practically starving himself at this rate, but he's made a couple slips, stolen bigger amounts out of hunger, or desperation, or whatever. I've got a couple other guys in here he matches up with really well.” I thrust the folder at her.
She sighs, refuses to look at me. “Alright, alright, I'll... I'll look it all over in the morning.” My first victory of the night: she takes the folder. “I'm not saying you're right about Solomon, but I'll give the matter some thought.” Her hand on the door, stepping back into her house.
“Thank you so much, ma'am. You don't know what this means to me. I mean, a girl's gotta eat.”
The nice thing about the higher ups of Fortune 500 companies is that they've all got their names on their doors. Makes it way easier than when I'm going after one of the small-time operators. Hell, executives are falling so hard over themselves to let the world know who they are that sometimes they have crap like photos of themselves in their offices. Though it can be kinda hard to tell them apart, and let me tell you that can lead to some ugly situations.
Ah, there's our boy, Solomon Luria. He must be running out of names to use, too. Hah. It's a nice place, big window, some gold stuff, you know how it is. At least there's no framed self-portraits or anything this time.
I make my way around the oversized desk to plop myself in front of the computer. This, I've done a million and a half times. Not that it wouldn't be easy even if I'd never tried it before. Just gotta bring a USB key with a couple programs on it and copy those files over somewhere a person would never look.
The whole thing should only take a couple minutes, but I've mistimed myself. Misread the schedule or maybe the whole thing's running a bit off, I don't know, but damn it if the man himself doesn't suddenly loom in the office door. Terrible.
He's a tall guy, well built but pale, tailored suit, slick hair, easy to picture a cigar in his hand. Bit different from your average blood sucking freak, but totally normal for your big money grubbing one. Reminds me a bit of Gordon Gekko, and I've always had a thing for Michael Douglas.
“Sorry, sir!” I simper, “I was told you were in an important meeting. I'm just doing a system upgrade. For some reason your machine wasn't letting us in remotely so I had to walk over from IT.” And if he questions me, I can always start throwing technical terms at him.
He looks at his watch – who the hell still wears a watch these days? “That's alright, I've got a few minutes to spare.” He smiles, and I get an eyeful of his pearly whites. My, what big teeth you have.
And I think I've about got away with the whole thing, but then the fucker starts up with the small talk. And that's just damn weird. “Have you been working here long? I don't think I've seen you around before.”
“Oh, yeah I'm just a consultant. They're doing system-wide modifications so they brought in a couple of us to help out. I'll be done here soon.”
“But, you know, you look familiar somehow. Have we met?” His brow furrows slightly and he's sort of – lounging? He's got an arm draped out and is twirling an embossed pen around his fingers.
“I doubt it, sir. I'm new in town.”
“Really? So am I, actually. I was in São Paulo for a few years.” His eyes stay on my face. I don't like it. “It's almost like moving to a different universe.”
5... 4... 3... come the fuck on...
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Toronto,” I lie. The file's transferred, I'm done, I'm gone. “You can have your computer back now.” I'm practically running out of the room.
“Just a second.” His lightly cultured voice grips me like a fist. Vampires. “You really do look familiar. Are you sure we haven't met?”
“I've never seen
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