Filthy Rich Vampire Husbands (Filthy Rich 2)

I laid in a complete state of malaise, feeling ill and paralyzed. I didn’t know what to do. And then my phone buzzed another damn time.

Bonus for you being such a good girl.

“My name is Smith, and I’m an alcoholic.” Following the video were pictures of Smith leaving a church and meeting Leonie again. He’d confided in her, not me, and that hurt. It hurt so damn much.

I sat on the couch with my head in my hands and I did the only thing I could think of doing. I dialed the number on my cell.

“Vern. Can you come now? I’m in so much trouble I don’t know what to do.”

As I broke down, I told him some of what had happened.

“I’m on my way. I’ll get someone to cover me here. Don't worry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. You got somewhere you can go?”

There’s a hotel I stayed in when I was a journalist. I’ll book us rooms there and send you the details.

“Hold tight, baby girl, I’m coming. We can sort this.”

“Thanks… Dad.” I said and my heart broke all over again.

18

Smith

Truth be told I couldn’t stand Cynthia Delaware. The daughter of a property magnate, she was one of those that displayed her wealth constantly on social media. You know the type: they take a selfie in a tub full of money; or a picture of their wrists dripping in diamond bracelets. She’d always tried too hard to fit in, hanging around where she wasn’t wanted. Cynthia just wasn’t a nice person. If you could be used to gain favor with the press, with other wealthy people—she’d be on you like a fly on shit. The rest of the time she’d cut you dead.

There was no way in my right mind I’d hit on Cynthia, so the question was, was I losing mine?

I sighed as I rang the doorbell to the family home. After being greeted by a member of staff, I made my way through to the side of the pool where Cynthia lay sunbathing.

If she was trying to look sexy it was lost on me. Cynthia was stick thin, bones protruding at her hips and collarbone. I’d bet her teacup Chihuahua didn’t leave her alone, trying to feast on her, though in reality it probably only ever got near its owner long enough for the requisite Instagram shot.

She leaned back on her elbows and smiled at me, revealing gleaming white teeth. “Smith. What a delight to see you.” She swung herself around, flicking her cherry-red hair from her face and rose, walking toward the outdoor table and chairs. “Take a seat.” She gestured toward them.

Once seated, a woman came out to us.

“You want a drink, Smith? Champagne on ice, maybe?” Cynthia smiled.

“I’ll take a soda. You know I don’t drink.”

The woman nodded and left us.

“That’s not true though is it, Smith? Because you have been drinking. You’ve been a very naughty boy.”

“Cut the bullshit, Cynthia. Let’s get to why I’m here. Denny has a photo of me. Me and you, and h

e’s wanting to blackmail me with it. He got it from your brother apparently.”

“Rob’s such a loser. He had no right going through my things. But, Denny has a photo of us. So what?”

“What do you remember about that night, Cynthia?”

“We made out in the club and you bit me. And I loved it. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what you are.”

I moved closer to her and stared into her eyes.

“You won’t remember this, Cynthia. You won’t remember us being in the club, or us making out, or me biting you. Is that clear?”

Her expression went slack.