Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Spencer is tired of being in love with her French billionaire boss Etienne Hirsche. Not only was he way, way out of her league, but the darn guy didn’t even seem to notice she was a woman.
Determined to start fresh and kill her feelings once and for all, Spencer is about to tell her boss she’s quitting…when things suddenly take a crazy dangerous turn. Maybe she’s seeing things…but are those vampires suddenly trying to kill them?
Spencer is all for running for their lives and taking cover, but instead of doing the same thing, Etienne reveals himself to be a vampire prince that can kick serious ass.
Spencer’s accidental discovery of the truth of her boss’, er, secret side, has her worried that Etienne’s next step would be to either fire her or kill her. But instead her boss wants to…date her?
Note: Previously published as My Vampire Billionaire Boss
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
VIP PRODUCTIONS, it said on the darkly tinted glass door of Room 481. It sounded very much professional, especially with the letters all spelled out in lacquered calligraphy. No one was likely to believe her if she told them VIP stood for Virginity Isn't Priceless, which was the truth.
After giving her name through the wireless intercom, she was buzzed in, and Spencer was pleasantly surprised to find the office looking more like a high-end clinic with its tiled walls and flooring. She had imagined the place to look something between a seedy motel and an over-the-top bordello and had feared that such a tawdry setup might end up making her change her mind.
But this was much, much better, and Spencer found herself relaxing even more when the receptionist started discussing specifics in a calm and professional manner.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Ms. de Vries. We're very much delighted to inform you that we've found you the perfect match."
"That's, um, fast?" It had been barely 48 hours since she last submitted all the required documents, and in all honesty, even that part of the "application" process had been a little odd. To sell one's virginity, Spencer had been thinking she would be asked to submit a medical clearance to prove she wasn't suffering from any sexually transmitted disease or, worse, naked photos.
Instead, the agency had asked for a blood profile report, the results of her most recent medical exam, and a letter from her gynecologist, certifying the intact condition of her hymen. Other than the last, none of it made sense, but at this point she didn't really care. She just wanted to get rid of her V-card, and the sooner it happened, the—-
"Ms. de Vries?"
Spencer started in her seat. "Sorry, what was that?"
"It's fine, Ms. de Vries. I was asking if it's alright that we go through all the special conditions you and the other party have set for the transaction?"
She couldn't keep her lips from twitching even as she managed a nod in response. Transaction, huh? The term was a little on the cold-blooded side, but she was fine with that.
"For your conditions, you requested that the other party - to quote your own words - 'be so good in bed that you wouldn't want the night to end.' Did I have that right, Ms. de Vries?"
"Yup." She managed to maintain eye contact somehow despite the way her cheeks had instantly heated up at how graphic her request had been. God. If only she could excuse herself by thinking she was drunk while submitting that request. Oh, if only. But as anyone close to her would know, she had never touched a single drop of alcohol her entire life.
"There's no need to feel embarrassed about these things," the receptionist said gently. "It's actually quite refreshing, considering how most times, the requests we receive are material in nature. And in any case—-there is your other request, too. You asked that the transaction be conducted in a manner where both of your identities remain anonymous, correct?"
Spencer nodded. "Is it possible?"
"Absolutely." There was a delicate pause. "And for the third..."
Spencer lifted her chin. "I'm still good with that."
The receptionist merely nodded. "The good news is that the other party is willing and able to meet all three of your conditions."
"But?" Spencer's tone was stiff. "There's a but, isn't it?"
"The other party has his own request that you must meet as well."
Spencer couldn't help feeling wary. "Go on."
"The transaction has to take place tonight—-"
"What?"
"And if you agree..." The receptionist handed her a prepaid credit card. "Please use this to book a suite in any hotel of your choosing, and after which, you are to immediately text the booking details to the other party." The receptionist gave her a business card next, and Spencer was surprised to find it completely blank save for a mobile phone number.
"Is this for real?" Who the heck would print a business card without any other information except for his number?
The receptionist gave her a politely bland smile. "It's for real." She then offered a pen to Spencer, saying, "If you have no objections, Ms. de Vries, then we only need you to sign the contract, and payment shall be deposited to your account within the hour."
"ANY WORD ABOUT MY DRIVER?" Etienne asked as he handed his keys to the valet before bounding up the entrance stairs of the hotel.
"I'm afraid not, sir. All we know is that a request for emergency leave has been filed at 4:05 p.m."
"Update me if you know any more." Frown lines continued to mar the billionaire's forehead even as he pocketed his phone after the call. That brat had been driving for him for over two years now, and this was the first time the smartass hadn't shown up for work.
Countless heads turned the moment Etienne entered the hotel, with most of the women feeling an almost inexplicably strong attraction towards the tall and powerful-looking figure striding past them. His patrician features reminded them of English lords of the past, and his silky black locks had their fingers itching to feel its texture. But what really drew them, more than anything else, was the aura of danger and mystery surrounding him, which hinted of something almost viciously rough and decadently sexy burning under his handmade Italian suits.