Мишель Роуэн - Stakes & Stilettos

"Change my life forever, huh?" I said. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Definitely a promise. New directions, new opportunities. A chance at a fantastic future."

"If I even get the job."

"You know me. Of course you'll get it!"

Okay, I had to admit it. I was a little excited. Especially since Heather had asked me personally to interview with her new boyfriend that very night. We were meeting at a café just down the street from the club. We weren't meeting at Haven because it was vamps-

only. It was a rule. Heather's boyfriend was human, but obviously pro-vampire since he was with her, so it was all good.

I liked Heather a lot. She was fun and funny and never gave me a hard time when I worked the bar and she waited tables. She'd quit two weeks ago after she met the man of her dreams, who had started a brand-new merchandising website called Vamp

International that was set to launch next month. The job I would be interviewing for dealt with the fashion end of things and it sounded, from Heather's description, too good to be true.

Plus, it paid big bucks.

I pulled my tip money out of a small juice glass next to the till. A small juice glass was all I needed. Nobody tipped the bartender here. Or very rarely. I'd noticed that on the average, vampires were extremely lousy tippers.

Haven was my boyfriend's nightclub, which catered to the fanged citizens of Toronto, open from 9:00 p.m. until nearly dawn.

Less than a week from now Haven would be transferring over to the new owners. Thierry had recently made the decision to sell the club, and apparently the new boss wanted to bring in his own servers. A bummer, but not an unexpected one. Luckily, it would still be a vampire club—one of only two in Toronto at the moment—so it was nice to know there would still be somewhere to hang out, but I couldn't count on getting a semiregular paycheck anymore.

Therefore, this job opportunity had seriously come at exactly the right time for me. I was broke.

I felt a warm hand at the small of my back, and I turned away from Heather to see Thierry now standing next to me. I hadn't even seen him approach. Master vampires—they were a sneaky lot.

Thierry was, in a word, gorgeous. At first glance, or even second, you'd never guess he was pushing seven hundred years old. He looked more like he was in his midthirties, and super hot with the whole tall, dark, and fangsome thing going on.

A lot of people were either scared or turned off by his sometimes cold and aloof manner, but I preferred to think of that as part of his charm. I knew underneath that icy exterior was a man as wonderful on the inside as he was on the outside. But I was fine with it being my little secret.

"Is everything all right over here?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm about to take off for my interview."

"Hi, Thierry," Heather said, smiling widely at him even though I knew she was one of those who didn't like him very much. "Why don't I wait over here for you, Sarah?" She moved far enough away to give us some privacy.

Thierry moved his gaze to mine. His eyes were a medium gray color, but somehow managed to look metallic, like silver. It was a bit spooky until you got used to it.

"You don't need to get another job," he said.

"Oh, but I do. I definitely need a nice, normal job to help pay the bills." I fished into the juice glass and pulled out the penny that was stuck to the very bottom, and then knelt to tuck the money into the front pocket of my purse. "I wanted to buy a new dress for the reunion, but since I can't afford it, I'm going to ask Amy if she has something I can borrow."

My ten-year high-school reunion was in two days. Despite my life being in constant peril in the ten weeks since I'd been turned into a vampire, things had cooled off enough that I felt that I didn't want to miss it. It was to be my last gasp as a normal person before I finally, grudgingly, accepted my new life as a vampire. And yes, life as a vampire.

Vampires being the walking dead was just another unfortunate rumor, like me being a weapon of mass destruction.

The rumor currently going around was that I was the "Slayer of Slayers." Sheesh. You kill one vampire hunter in self-defense—an act that had now grown in legend to twelve hunters and counting that I'd taken down with my well-manicured, but lethal hands—and a girl gets a reputation.

I hated to admit it, but I think that's one of the reasons Heather's boyfriend, Josh, had agreed to meet me for an interview at this crazy hour of the night. He was impressed by my rep. Hey, if it helped to get me a cool new job, I would milk it for all it was worth.

Thierry frowned at me. "Of course you should have something new to wear. Why didn't you say anything to me earlier?" He slid his hand into the front pocket of his black suit jacket, pulled out a money clip, and proceeded to peel off a few bills. "How much do you need? Will a thousand be sufficient?"

"Uh… yeah, that should just about do it." My mouth began to water at the sight of the money, but after a moment I forced myself to hold back the drool. "Wait, no. No, Thierry, please. I don't want to take any more of your money."

"What do you mean?"

Ninety percent of my body reached out to that roll of money, but 10 percent was holding me back. That 10 percent was surprisingly strong. "Look, I feel like I've sponged off you for over two months. Now I have this opportunity to interview with Heather's boyfriend so I can make my own money. You shouldn't have to be there with a handout whenever I get sick of what I'm wearing."

"I don't mind," he said.

"Well, I do. I need to find my own way when it comes to this sort of thing."

God, I was being so mature. It was a little sickening. For my entire life I thought having a rich boyfriend would be the perfect solution to all of my problems, and don't get me wrong, it was fantastic. But it also made me feel… dirty. And not in a good way. It made me feel that by taking his money I was less of a person. Less of a vampire. Whatever.

Ten weeks ago I'd been fired from my full-time, lousy-paying, but regular job as a personal assistant. My funds had dwindled away to practically nothing. I was down to bartending tips and Thierry's generosity. A real job was way overdue.

A small smile curled up the side of his mouth. "Are you saying that you don't want me for my money?"

I smiled back at him. "Oh, I want you. But the money thing is something I need to work out for myself."

He reclipped the money and slid it back into his pocket. "If you insist."

I felt a quick pang of regret but stifled it. It was the right decision. I wasn't a kept woman.

And it's not as though we were married and half of Thierry's bucks immediately became mine.

No, the position of "Thierry's wife" had already been filled by a gorgeous seven-hundred-

year-old French vampire named Veronique.

She wasn't in the country at the moment.

Not that she minded our relationship. In fact, strangely enough, she encouraged it. They'd been married "in name only" now for over a century. Apparently divorcing somebody you'd been hitched to for six hundred years wasn't something you could do by simply hiring a lawyer and signing some paperwork.

Didn't bother me.

Much.

Okay, it bothered me a lot, but I tried not to dwell.

"Stay close to Heather," Thierry said. "And promise to return here as soon as this interview is over."

"I promise."

It sounded bossy, but he was just being careful. When my reputation first became known

I'd had a couple of bodyguards assigned to guard my body. I now had just one. A big brute of a guy appropriately named Butch. He was also a vampire, which definitely helped.

My last bodyguards had been human. One of them had also tried to kill me, but that was another story.