The Billionaire's Heir (Sucubus For Hire Book 1)
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Succubus For Hire:
The Billionaire’s Heir
Book One
By
Michael Don Anderson
Succubus for Hire: The Billionaire’s Heir is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This Special Kindle Edition is an original publication of
CRIMSON WEREWOLF LIMITED.
Copyright © 2018 by Crimson Werewolf Limited
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission of the copyright holder except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Crimson Werewolf Limited, 7260 W. Azure Dr. Suite 140-798, Las Vegas, NV 89130.
Published in the United States by
CRIMSON WEREWOLF LIMITED.
ISBN 978-1-935698-70-8
Printed in the U.S.A.
www.crimsonwerewolf.com
Dedication
This book is dedicated to powerful women everywhere, whether they be housewives or mothers, professionals or thinkers, artists or laborers (or any combination thereof), without whom all of us men would live much inferior lives. I am lucky to note that all of the women in my life have incredible strength of character and I look to them for my heroine, Bianca Savage. She’s a woman who has difficulties all of us can relate to: love, sex, trust, integrity; while making them unique to the problems of being a succubus.
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In memory of Gwen and Grace; Stella and Ruth; Clara and even Hallie. The strongest women in my family, all loved and missed.
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And to the women who have shaped this work by sharing so much of their personal lives with me: Coreen, Miyuki, Rain, Roxanne, Cindy, Chrystal, Seona, Janice and Sue. And (for reminding me that I was missing a series featuring a powerful female lead) to Nicole.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
About the Author
Succubus For Hire:
The Billionaire’s Heir
Book One
Michael Don Anderson
Crimson Werewolf Limited ● USA
Chapter One
I was led to a table in the middle of the crowded restaurant by the mater di personally. The dinner rush was always hectic in central Los Angeles. This was Long Beach. There should’ve been a few empty stations. There weren’t.
Expensive suits. Dresses from high-end stores. Real jewels in their broaches and necklaces. Much bigger than the tiny emerald studs I wore. Clearly the rich and powerful liked the place.
It was called The Meerkat. Egyptian-flavors added to liven up high-end grub. Steaks. Lobster. The usual dishes twisted into the exotic. I loved Cairo street food. Wasn’t sure it was translate well into mainstream dishes. Overly complicated. Like this meeting.
The diners’ energy tickled along my skin. Made wild with their sense of entitlement. Arrogance. My stomach grew cold with hunger at the presence of so much food gathered together in the busy restaurant. I pressed my hand against my belly. Reined in my power. Focusing on the table I was being steered toward.
My potential client, Henry Gibraltar sat with two young men. Hard to judge how tall he was sitting down. I’d guess about five-ten. He had silver hair. Fine lines marked his brow from frequent frowning. Narrow jaw. But sturdy. Narrow shoulders, too. Lean all over. Skin thinned with age. Still handsome at sixty-three except for a bitterness in his grey eyes.
I only recognized Gibraltar’s face because it had been splashed on the news the day before. Presumably the reason he’d asked for this meeting. Although what a billionaire could need with a simple private eye was beyond me.
Gibraltar eyed the stiff-backed mater di. The expressionless man bowed and slipped away silently. Well trained to earn his position.
“Please have a seat, Miss Savage.”
“I usually meet my clients at the office.” I reluctantly pulled the chair out and sat down. None of the men stood. That was something in their favor. I knew it was probably an insult. Rather than an acknowledgement of my equality. But I was happy to give them the benefit of the doubt.
“Considering your nature, I felt a public meeting was safer.” Gibraltar smiled but his eyes were empty. Hollow. Except for a smoldering impatience.
His gaze roamed from my woolen-knit beret to stare at my gloved hands. The dark crimson silk went all the way to my elbows. Snug and flexible so that my fingers weren’t constrained. Only my shoulders were exposed. The beret was navy, like my skirt and blouse. The top was low cut, revealing enough décolletage to distract a man from staring into my eyes too long. Most women had the opposite problem. Of course the sunglasses helped.
“If you don’t trust me, I doubt we have any business.”
I stood. Annoyed that I’d wasted thirty minutes driving across downtown Long Beach during heavy traffic for this meeting. Anger weakened my self-control. I felt my skin grow warm as the testosterone in the room prickled at my power. My stomach filled with icy needles of need. It wasn’t just my stomach. Tendrils of ache stirred lower down. I’d learned long ago to ignore any potential sexual nature to my appetite.
If anyone had touched me just then, skin on skin, it would’ve been bad. My appetite spiked in the moment. Fortunately, no one was that foolish. Of course, I didn’t have to touch someone to feed. But I’d had years of discipline to learn restraint. Breathing deeply, the sensation ebbed. I moved my fingers away from my belly.
My frown deepened as I glared at him. “You’ll get a bill for wasting my time.”
“Sit down,” snapped the man on Gibraltar’s left.
The youngest of the three, he was thin like his employer. His dark hair flawless combed into place. His pinstripe suit too fitted to be off-the-rack. Expensive, like most of the clothing in the restaurant. I knew a lawyer when I met one
. He smelled of summonses and courtroom drama. Without the confidence.
“Hush, Mansfield. Miss Savage, I apologize for my attorney’s zeal.”
“More than an attorney, I’m guessing.” I was good with faces. Matching details others might miss. I noticed genetic relationships no matter how slight. It came with being more than human. These men would have said ‘less.’
“My grandson.” Gibraltar eyed me speculatively.
“She Googled you,” said Mansfield grimly. “Don’t give her credit she hasn’t earned.”
“I said hush! Google doesn’t know anything about you.”
Gibraltar turned to his grandson. The empty expression in his grey eyes grew cold. Hateful. The old man didn’t like being disobeyed. Good to know. I didn’t like to be told what to do. We were off to a great start.
“Y—yes, Sir.” Mansfield glanced down at the table. But not before shooting me a look of loathing.
“Please, Miss Savage. Sit back down.”
Gibraltar tried to look humble. It wasn’t a natural expression for him. Reluctantly, I took my seat again and waited.
“I expected your hair to be darker.” Gibraltar spoke with compulsion. As if he had to get it off his chest. He didn’t like surprises. “It should be black.”
“Spawn of the Devil and all that?” I laughed. It was a good laugh. A sexy laugh. Men had been enthralled by that laugh, in combination with my gaze. Tonight I avoided Gibraltar’s eyes. My sunglasses protected him. But I didn’t want to see that sour expression for a moment. Judging me.
I surveyed the restaurant instead. Distracted from his fear by so much potential food. The two-legged kind. “Auburn goes better with my pale complexion. And I’ve never met the Devil.”
The man grunted. “It’s not as if there are people like you on every street-corner. Not even a handful on the world registry. Most of those dead by execution.”
I appreciated that he considered me a person. Although from the look in his eyes, his words might’ve been more generous than his thoughts. The street-corner reference, though—sounded like he lumped me in with twenty-dollar hookers. I wasn’t happy about that.
“There aren’t many of my kind at all, as far as I know. Registered or otherwise.” I held my temper. Better than I’d expected. He’d distracted me from being hungry. “I’ll repeat, Mr. Gibraltar. If you don’t trust me, I can’t work for you.”
I put my hands into my lap to keep him from staring at them. He’d ignored my breasts so far. Most men didn’t have his restraint. Even gay men tended to admire them. Married men certainly. Curious about what sex with me would be like. How would it be different from ordinary women. From their wives or boyfriends. The thrill of danger and all that. Gibraltar was a cautious man. Distracted from any carnal needs by his unspoken desperation.
He struggled for the words. His composure wasn’t the problem. He didn’t know how to say it. “I need your help. The police have been useless. And this requires a more—more personal touch.”
“I’m aware that your grandson Vincent was kidnapped. It’s hard to live in Long Beach and not see it on the evening news.”
Vincent Gibraltar was the heir to Henry Gibraltar’s fortune. A billion dollar company with its headquarters right here along the waterfront. It wasn’t common knowledge that the old man had two other grandchildren. One still living as evidenced by Mansfield’s presence. I didn’t know the name of the granddaughter. Or if she’d even survived into adulthood.
“Yes. Only—” Gibraltar stared at the third man. Mid-thirties. Well built. Handsome in that Tab Hunter, surfer kind of way. Blonde and blue eyed. The Nazis would have approved except for one thing. He wasn’t any more human than I was.
The man smiled, revealing two sharp canines. He shrugged harmlessly. I’d sensed the undeath on him before I’d reached the table. A metaphysical dead-spot. An absence of the energy that I could feed from. “I’m afraid Vincent may have been lured away voluntarily.”
“And you are?”
I studied his hands. Neat. Well-manicured. Strong fingers. Most vampires were on the thin side. Came from having a strictly liquid diet. This man worked out. Even with his innate preternatural strength he’d developed an athletic physique. Not that I’d met many vampires.
“Joseph.”
“Joseph? That’s it? No last name?” I leaned back, crossing my legs at the ankle. It meant I couldn’t move as quickly, but it was a crowded restaurant. No one had tried to kill me all year. I felt I could chance it. “I know it’s LA, but I didn’t know vampires were divas.”
“I’m Mr. Gibraltar’s personal bodyguard.”
“During the night,” I countered. I glanced at the front of the restaurant. It explained why the meeting had been after eight p.m. This time of year, the sun didn’t set until half-past seven. “Who guards your master during the daytime?”
“Such language, Miss Savage. What is this, the eighteen-hundreds?” Joseph watched me carefully. Relaxed. But behind his façade, he was assessing what kind of threat I’d be.
“I’m not that old. How old are you?” Some people thought it rude to ask. I didn’t care. With vampires it was important to know. Assuming he’d tell me the truth.
“I was thirty-two when I crossed over.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He smiled, trying for harmless again. It probably worked with a lot of people. People like Gibraltar. To them, vampires should have black hair. Pale skin. The way Gibraltar had expected me to look. Anything preternatural should be dark and ethereal at the same time.
Not Joseph. In addition to being blonde, he had a rugged tan. One of the things the fairytales got wrong. Vampires kept some of their physical attributes at the time of undeath. Hair color and length. Amount of melatonin. Yellowing of teeth. They could lose and gain muscle but a lot of other things stayed fixed.
“I know.” He didn’t answer the question. I guess that was better than being lied to. “I have an associate who takes the day shift.”
“Blood-linked?”
He blinked with surprise. I’d caught him off guard. It was a vampiric trade secret. “Since you are familiar with this term, yes.”
“What’s that mean?” demanded Mansfield.
Joseph ignored the grandson. Held my gaze without fear. Waiting for what I might say next. Wondering if I’d keep his secret.
“So he’s human.”
“Mostly.” I saw a flicker of a smile.
“Not very discrete to admit.” I looked at Gibraltar. “So you have a lycanthrope guarding you during the day. And a vampire at night. Now you’re here with me. But money can’t buy everything.”
Henry Gibraltar grew angry. He focused it on me. Avoiding eye-contact with Joseph, who was the real source of his anger. Afraid to express his frustration directly.
I wouldn’t hire someone I was afraid of. Of course, if the Gibraltars of the world didn’t hire people they were afraid of, I wouldn’t have a job.
The old man grunted. “It’s illegal to discriminate.”
I waited for him to elaborate. He just stared at the table as if he’d answered all my questions. Maybe he had. So I put a few more to him. “You still haven’t explained why you need my help. To do what?”
Joseph answered again. “Vincent may have met some people who led him astray because of me.”
That got my attention. “By people do you mean vampires?”
“We are people.”
I smiled. All the way into my eyes. It probably didn’t show through my glasses. “We’re monsters, too.”
“Can we get on with this?” asked Mansfield, struggling to sound professional. He wasn’t very good at it. I doubted he’d be very good in the courtroom. Gibraltar probably only hired him out of nepotism. Not that I understood families. I’d never had one of my own. Not really.
“Time is of the essence,” agreed Joseph.
Mansfield frowned. He didn’t appreciate the support. Maybe he hated vampires. He definitely hated me.
“Your grandson isn’t entirely wrong. I did research you, Mr. Gibraltar. Definitely beyond a quick Google. I understand that you had three grandchildren. But until Vincent was taken, none of them have appeared as public figures. No photos on the internet of the other two. Except for birth records, there isn’t a paper-trail on them. Like they vanished.”
He stiffened. “You know about what happened to my children? Their parents?”
I nodded. “Murdered in a failed kidnap-attempt more than thirteen years ago. Different from Vincent’s abduction.” I nodded politely at Joseph. “Vampires aside.”
“The police never found the people responsible. My son and daughter dead. Killed by a forty-five caliber handgun taken from their bodyguard.”
“Before Mr. Gibraltar upped his security to me.” Joseph wanted it clear that it would never have happened on his watch.
Probably true. Except, Vincent had been taken during his watch. Because of him. If I took him at his word. Hard to say which was worse.
Joseph continued the story when Gibraltar stayed silent. “Their spouses were killed as well. The police were led to believe the children were dead. To protect Henry’s bloodline. Instead, they were given different last names. Except for Vincent.”
“Why not Vincent?”
“He’s my chosen heir. The Gibraltar name will live on.”
I glanced at Mansfield. His hands were clenched in fists. He wasn’t happy about that. He and his sister hadn’t been born with the Gibraltar name. Their mother had married an Everwright. Obviously they hadn’t kept that name either.
“But you don’t think he was kidnapped?” I watched Joseph’s reaction. “He joined a coven of vampires voluntarily?”
The old man answered angrily. “Not voluntarily, Miss Savage. Vincent’s only sixteen. He can’t consent to be bitten until he’s twenty-one.”
“Or eighteen with court permission. I know the law, Mr. Gibraltar. I wouldn’t make a very good PI if I didn’t.”
There was need in his angry grey eyes. “Can you help me?”