Read Online Vampire Money (Paranormal billionaire erotic romance) by Delia Dirk - Free Book Online Page B

you before in my life.” And that's not a lie.
     
     
    It should be a lie, that's the frightening part. I've got a library of major players that goes back fifty years. Who the hell is this guy? He can't have come from nowhere, not with what he was sporting. He's got to have been around for at least a little while. Is he a holdover from the days when vampires were cold blooded murderers? A new convert to the business world? That'd make things complicated, ugly.
     
    But the VNC software and keylogger worked like a charm so I can watch what he's doing at any time and have records of it all. And for the most part it's... less than enlightening. The guy works on business transactions, the guy corrects Wikipedia articles about historical events, the guy, believe it or not, runs a blog! I mean, kinda endearing for sure but it's not helping me out at all.
     
    Here we go, banking info. Money shot. He's checking his accounts. But – before he gets his password in, he pauses. The mouse kinda hesitates on the screen, weird how you can see that. He opens a text document:
     
    It just hit me who you actually are. I know you're watching me , he types. Fuck. Now that is just the worst news I've had in a long time.
     
    I can't believe I didn't notice it sooner, but then I guess you're as much of a professional as I am. You hid yourself well, but you're going after the last person you should be. Quickly erased: I may be a vampire but – Replaced with: I'm a bit like you, I'm fighting back. I'm making my money legitimately. I am not going to ruin this company. If someone's tripped your radar, it wasn't me.
     
    It sits there on the screen for a minute longer than I take to read it, then is erased.
     
    And so for the next weeks I sit and watch, trying to decide what I'm supposed to do with this. He's probably lying, but god damn does the idea eat at me. I can't just go and oust this guy if he's innocent. Even worse: he seems like a pretty good dude. I mean, here I am watching him go about his daily business and the worst thing he does is get edit wars internet losers on historical Wikipedia articles. Hell, I could see myself doing that if I were hundreds of years old too. But most of the time it's work or the news. He avoids his bank from then on. Once in a while, though, he sends me a little message.
     
    Are you still there?
     
    These files are classified. Does Mrs. Lemming know you're doing this?
     
    I found your file. Don't know how to get rid of it. I hope you see I'm not doing anything untoward.
     
    The weirdest thing is when he gives me an explanation of what he's doing. Those ones, I just can't figure out. Is the guy just lonely? Why does he think I'd care?
     
    Written beside a chat window: I've known this guy for three lifetimes and he hasn't gone one day without being an asshole.
     
    Sometimes he even does explanations of the work he's doing, as if he knows I know my way around money. What's his game?
     
    Eventually, I figure it out. He wants to endear me to him. He wants me to like him so I can't go through with my job. He wants me to decide he's a good guy and let him go.
     
    But there's just – I can't just let it go. I can't just let him keep doing his thing. He's a fucking vampire. I didn't know they came in flavours other than 'soulless toolbag.' Everything in me is just so repulsed by the thought of leaving him alone.
     
     
    I'm going through his filing cabinet when he walks into his office. My god, this guy's timing is good enough that it must be a sixth sense. Our eyes lock and I slip the folder back into the drawer.
     
    Now, normally these guys look kinda amused when they see me. Y'know, like I'm being cute. But this guy, he- Christ, he just looks upset. Not angry or superior or anything. Kinda confused, actually. I guess he thought I fell for it.
     
    “I thought you may have decided to track down whoever is really at fault here. I'm sorry to see you still trying,” he says.
     
    “If you'd given me any