Page 4 of The Donor’s Dilemma

Adam donated at the induction, for a gorgeous, leggy vampire who’d insisted on him calling her Bea. Apparently, it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, but he’d still demanded Verity text him after her donation to let him know she was okay. “Safety in numbers,” he’d said.

Verity

Still waiting x

The typing bubble appeared.

Maybe you can use your

bonus to buy him a watch x

She scoffed, before checking the receptionist wasn’t watching, and snapping a picture of the grandfather clock standing proud by the office door.

I think he's covered x

A pointed cough came from the receptionist wiped the bemused look from Verity’s face. Switching her phone to silent, she slipped it back into her pocket as stress crept back in.

A stack of newspapers sat on a side table and Verity grabbed one, hoping that the familiarity of ink on paper might calm her racing mind. “One-year anniversary of the Cliffhaven quarantine and no end in sight,” the paper read. She threw it back down. Reading about a pandemic on the other side of Havenshire was not a calming thought.

Late. He was late.

She was almost grateful for it, her nerves taking a back seat as she clenched her jaw. How dare he? First, he couldn’t be bothered to come to her induction, and now he was making her wait. Maybe it was a power move, reminding her who was in charge. Well, two could play that game.

Verity was about to march over to the receptionist and ask what was taking so long when the office door burst open.

“Maybe if you got your head out of your arse, you might be of some fucking use!” a man, a vampire, with salt-and-pepper hair and a look of pure fury on his face, raged as he marched out, leaving the door wide open.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” a voice called from the office.

The secretary jumped from her chair and ran to the doorway as the vampire stormed down the corridor. A few quiet words were exchanged before she turned to Verity and, with her first smile, said, “He’s ready for you now.”

Verity tried not to gape. That other guy looked like he was ready to rip someone’s head off. Didn’t he want a moment to calm down or something? And what the hell had the Lord Mayor said to piss him off so bad?

She had looked him up online, obviously, and Theodor Chapel might as well be the poster boy for vampires. Handsome, professional, charismatic. Endless pictures and interviews of him at charity events and opening businesses and festivals. Of course, he was on his seventeenth consecutive term in office. Fitting in a bit of charity work during his sixty-odd years on the job would hardly be difficult.

“He has another meeting after you,” the secretary prompted, holding the door open and Verity sprang out of her seat.

“Of course,” she said, walking to the door, nerves making a sudden and unwelcome return.

She hovered at the threshold, peering into the room. Huge, lavish, and perfectly ostentatious. On one side sat a couple of couches, the other a long table and chairs for meetings, and in the middle was a desk, and a man, typing away, head down, as if she weren’t there.

“I’d say he doesn’t bite, but…” The woman grinned, still holding the door. Her smile widened enough for her fangs to press against her lip. Verity hadn’t even noticed she was a vampire, too.

“Stella,” came a warning tone from the stoic figure, still typing.

Her cheeks heated, no doubt matching the burgundy of the room she entered. The moment she was through the door Stella swiftly closed it behind her, leaving Verity to stand there like a fool, waiting for instruction.

“I am so sorry, Miss Harper,” he mumbled, gesturing to a seat in front of his desk without looking up. “I’ll be but a moment.”

Verity moved into the space, until she stood behind one of the chairs, holding it before her like the last line of defence.

Gods be damned, the photos didn’t do him justice. For a guy who was knocking six hundred, he looked to be her age. Deep chestnut hair and icy blue eyes, a sharp jawline and full lips that moved as he typed. Why were vampires always so hot? It really wasn’t fair.

A few clicks of the mouse and he pushed the keyboard away, standing to finally look at Verity.

“My apologies,” he said, smiling and moving around the table, a hand outstretched and shaking Verity’s before she realised she’d moved.

“You seem a little busy,” she said, and he barked a humourless laugh.