The Vampire’s Offer (Bathhouse Beasts #9)

The Vampire’s Offer Will

The Vampire’s Offer: Will

Ayear ago I’d been the worst performing agent in the financial advisor office. I’d been driving a shitty car, wearing sweaters to work everyday, and wore a general expression of disdain toward every client I had to talk to. And, of course, that meant I only got the worst clients.

But, and I know this sounds goofy as hell, I got hooked on this self-help book about success and it actually changed my life.

I started hitting the gym, not because I needed to lose weight, but because I didn’t feel confident about how I looked.

As my body toned up, I started making an effort to dress better.

Almost instantly people began to treat me better too.

I found myself smiling more and excited about things that I hadn’t been in a long time.

That led to an increase in my commission and suddenly work stopped being a drag.

Now, as I glanced at the inner office scoreboard, I saw myself an easy twenty percent above all my coworkers.

Even the hunky werewolf that managed finances for his pack was quite a ways behind me.

I was taking home the biggest check, I got the wealthiest clients, and this weekend, I was gonna buy myself a new car.

For the first time in my life, everything was going my way.

I locked my computer screen and grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair. It was already past six, and most of the office had cleared out. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as I made my way toward the exit, my dress shoes clicking against the polished floor.

That's when I saw him.

He stood near the reception desk, perfectly still, wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

He held an umbrella even though it wasn’t raining outside, but I hadn’t checked the forecast either.

Dark hair swept back from a face that looked like it had been carved from marble—all sharp angles and aristocratic features.

His eyes found mine across the empty office, and I felt something cold slide down my spine.

"Can I help you?" I called out, trying to sound professional despite the weird flutter in my chest. We were technically closed, but a client this well-dressed was worth a few extra minutes.

He smiled, and even from twenty feet away, I could see how white his teeth were. "I certainly hope so. I was told you're the best advisor in this office."

Pride swelled in my chest. Word was getting around, apparently. I walked toward him, extending my hand. "I like to think so. I'm William Baker, but you can call me Will."

His hand was ice cold when it wrapped around mine. The contact sent another strange shiver through me, but I kept my smile fixed in place.

"Raoul Allard," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I've recently come into a rather substantial inheritance, and I find myself in need of...guidance."

The man didn’t look like he had just come into money, judging by his clothes alone and the way he carried himself. But I wasn’t one to argue or pry. I just wanted to make him a client so I could get more commission.

"Well, you've come to the right place," I said, gesturing toward my desk. "Though I have to admit, most people make appointments during business hours."

"I keep unusual hours," Raoul said, releasing my hand. "I hope that won't be a problem."

"Not at all. I'm flexible." I led him back to my workspace, acutely aware of how quiet the office had become. The cleaning crew wouldn’t arrive for another hour, so we had time. "Please, have a seat."

He lowered himself into the chair across from my desk with an unnatural grace, like he was floating down rather than sitting. I tried to shake off the odd impression as I settled into my own chair and woke my computer back up.

"So, Mr. Allard—"

"Raoul, please."

"Raoul. Tell me about this inheritance. What kind of assets are we talking about? Liquid cash, property, stocks?"

He tilted his head slightly, studying me with those dark eyes.

In the overhead lighting, I couldn't quite tell what color they were.

Brown? Black? They seemed to shift. "Primarily real estate holdings across Europe.

Some investments that have been... dormant for quite some time.

I need someone clever to help me modernize my portfolio. "

My pulse quickened. European real estate meant serious money. This could be the biggest client I'd ever landed. "I'd be happy to help with that. Do you have documentation I could review? Deeds, current valuations, that sort of thing?"

"Not with me tonight. I wanted to meet you first, to see if we'd be compatible." The way he said that last word made something in my stomach tighten. "I prefer to work with people I can trust. People I can get to know... intimately."

I cleared my throat. "Well, I pride myself on building strong client relationships."

"I can see that." His gaze traveled over me slowly, and I felt exposed despite being fully clothed. "You've recently undergone quite a transformation, haven't you, William?"

The use of my full name caught me off guard. "How did you—"

"It's written all over you. The confidence. The careful grooming. You're a man who's discovered his own potential." He leaned forward slightly. "I find that absolutely fascinating."

I shifted in my chair, unsure whether to be flattered or unnerved. "I appreciate that. It's been a lot of hard work."

"I'm sure it has." Raoul settled back, his movements liquid and precise. "Tell me, William, what drives you? Beyond the commissions and the scoreboard rankings. What do you truly want?"

The question threw me. Clients didn't usually ask things like that. We talked numbers, risk tolerance, retirement goals—not existential shit. But something about the intensity of his stare made me want to answer honestly. I almost felt like I had to.

"I want to matter," I heard myself say. "I spent too many years being invisible. Being the guy people overlooked or dismissed. Now I want to be someone people remember. Someone who makes an impact."

"Ambition," he murmured, and the word sounded almost sensual the way he spoke it. "How refreshing. Most people in your profession simply want money."

"Well, I want that too," I admitted with a laugh, trying to lighten the strange heaviness that had settled between us. "But yeah, there's more to it than that."

"And relationships? Are you close with anyone?"

I hesitated. The question was definitely crossing into personal territory, but I didn't want to offend a potential whale of a client. "Not really. I've been focused on work. Why do you ask?"

"Because I value discretion, William. My affairs are... complicated. I need to know that my advisor won't be distracted by outside obligations. That he can be available when I need him, even at unusual hours." Those dark eyes held mine. "Can you offer me that level of commitment?"

Every professional instinct told me this was weird, that I should politely refer him to someone else. But the promise of European real estate holdings, of the biggest commission of my career, kept me in my seat.

"I can be flexible with my schedule for the right client," I said carefully.

Raoul's smile widened, and for just a second, I could have sworn his teeth looked longer than they should. Must have been the lighting. "Excellent. Then I believe we have the foundation for a very productive partnership."

He stood abruptly, and I scrambled to my feet as well, not wanting to be rude.

"I'll return tomorrow evening with the necessary documentation," he said, producing a business card from his jacket pocket.

The card stock felt heavy and expensive between my fingers.

"This is my private number. I'd prefer if you kept our arrangement confidential for now.

No need to mention me to your colleagues. "

"Sure, I can do that." Though it seemed odd. Usually I'd want to brag about landing a client like this.

"Perfect." He extended his hand again, and despite knowing how cold it would be, I shook it. His grip was firm, possessive almost.

“And there’s one more thing,” he said, not letting go of my hand. “I’d like to get to know you better. Outside of work, I mean.”

I wasn’t sure why I felt a surge of excitement. It wasn’t strange for clients to want to meet outside the office for dinner or drinks. Liking and building trust with the person that managed your money was essential. But this felt… different.

“That’s fine,” I nodded. “Is there a place you prefer?”

“Yes.” He finally let go of my hand and I felt a strange sense of loss.

Reaching into his suit he pulled out a second card, this one handwritten in extremely fine penmanship.

“Meet me here tonight at eleven. Show this card to the man at the front desk and he’ll let you in.

” He paused for a moment, looking me over with those dark eyes that made my skin tingle. “And make sure you enjoy yourself.”

I took the card. “I’ll be there.”

"Wonderful. I look forward to getting to know you better, William. I have a feeling you and I are going to become very close indeed."

Then he turned and glided toward the exit, his umbrella tucked under one arm. I watched him go, my hand still tingling from his touch.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that I realized I'd been holding my breath.

I looked down at the handwritten card. The address was in the warehouse district downtown. Not exactly where I'd expected a guy in a suit like that to hang out. No business name, just an address and "11 PM" written beneath it in that same elegant script.

My phone buzzed. A text from Derek, one of the other advisors, asking if I wanted to grab drinks.

I typed out a quick excuse about being tired and having more work to get done.

It wasn't entirely a lie. I did need to get more work done, it just happened to be a private meeting with a client at practically midnight.