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    Violet: Revealed (Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance): Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance Series, #2
    Violet: Revealed (Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance): Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance Series, #2
    Violet: Revealed (Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance): Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance Series, #2
    Ebook120 pages2 hours

    Violet: Revealed (Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance): Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance Series, #2

    By Michelle Fox

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    About this ebook

    My target is a vampire with a name fit for a Greek god—Zopyros Persopoulos—and he has the good looks to match. More importantly, he runs Datagenex and it's his DNA database that will reveal why my blood kills vampires.

    I just need to get him alone and hack Datagenex's servers without falling into that smoldering gaze of his that makes me feel like I'm on fire.

    Posing as a blood courtesan is the perfect cover...right up until everything goes wrong.

    A brand new novella in the Blood Courtesans world. Complete story with HEA and no cliffhanger. Enjoy!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMichelle Fox
    Release dateOct 22, 2018
    ISBN9781386017141
    Violet: Revealed (Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance): Blood Courtesans Vampire Romance Series, #2

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      Book preview

      Violet - Michelle Fox

      Chapter One

      Before we start...Be sure to subscribe to my mailing list for free reads, exclusive sneak peeks and giveaways. Get a free story just for signing up!

      ***

      Stalking a vampire all over New York City was a bad move. But it wasn't my worst or last one—not by far. I'd never been an underachiever. Which was why I was sneaking into a ballroom full of vampires.

      Unknown, unwanted and most definitely uninvited.

      Seriously. I was doing it.

      Tonight, in fact. Right here. Right now.

      It was my dumbest idea yet, but also the only move left on my chessboard.

      Why? Well, I'd tell you, but it's unpronounceable.

      Here, try it.

      Zopyros Persopoulos.

      Who the hell can say that? I had to look it up.

      Zo-pie-rows  Per-sow-po-los

      Stupid vampires and their ancient names.

      At the thought of him, my memory served up his CEO head shot. The picture had the usual boring blue background, but the guy in front of it? Was everything that made boring jealous.

      Zopyros was as chiseled as an ancient Greek god with intense dark eyes and wild hair in the same light-eating shade. Broad shoulders threatened to burst through his suit like a superhero—you know, just in case the god thing wasn't enough— and he didn't smile.

      I'd seen picture after picture of him, pictures spanning hundreds of years and...

      Not even a smirk.

      I might have called him handsome if he hadn't been ignoring me for months—hence the stalking. I mostly referred to him as that jerk and sometimes, when I was really annoyed, that asshole. But tonight, I would smile and pretend he wasn't the most annoying vampire on earth.

      Whatever it took to get between a vampire CEO and his data, right?

      With his DNA database and the data from my experiments, I could unravel the mystery of my blood and expose the truth. This wasn't what I'd thought a career as a scientist would be. I'd planned to work on yeast and anti-aging, but then a vampire tore my world apart with his fangs and now I needed more vampires to put everything back together again.

      Zopyros had ignored me so far, but every year he sponsored the most important social event for vampires in New York. The Blood Ball. He couldn't ignore me if I was in his face, and I planned on making an impression he couldn't resist. And I didn't let the fact I couldn't wrangle an invitation stop me.

      Metal clanged and brought my focus back to the world around me. I glanced over my shoulder for the source of the noise. One of the cooks had dropped a pot lid.

      Nobody looked at me. They'd tracked the noise same as I had, but I fidgeted in my over-starched waiter's uniform anyway.

      So far, so good. No one had challenged me. I'd slipped into the hotel kitchen with a group of other servers. It had been so easy, I didn't quite trust it.

      I'd heard the security was tight at the Blood Ball, but that didn't appear to extend to kitchen staff. It didn't seem right. I worried I'd missed something, but it was too late to go back and change anything.

      Since I wasn't supposed to be there, I stayed out of the way and tried to look busy in some official capacity. I'd fussed with a bin of silverware for a while, and now I was fluffing a pile of napkins over and over again.

      To my left, trays of champagne bubbled on a stainless-steel counter. At another counter farther down, butlers in crisp tuxedos mixed blood with champagne, making crimson bubbles. Because not everyone eating tonight was human.

      Chefs scurried back and forth preparing the hors d'oeuvres. The spread was Oscar-after-party worthy. Someone had carved roses out of various vegetables. The roses garnished shrimp and sushi and steak tartare with truffle oil and oysters and kabobs of exotic fruits I'd never heard of until tonight.

      Like jackfruit. What the frick was that? The snack you took to a carjacking? Whatever it was, it cost a hundred bucks a pop according to what one of the butlers had said.

      A man in a towering chef hat clapped big, meaty hands together.Waiters! Gather 'round.

      The energy in the kitchen changed as everyone zeroed in on him. I let the waiters cluster around the chef and then sidled up to them, bending my knees to keep myself from standing out. I wasn't tall, but I didn't want to attract any attention. Ducking just below the head level of the person in front of me seemed like a good move.

      Take a tray and get out there. The chef gestured to the champagne. They're ready.

      One by one, the tuxedoed waiters in front of me grabbed a tray and pushed through the swinging doors leading to the ballroom beyond. I hung back, waiting for the right moment.

      The waiter in front of me went, taking the last tray. There wasn't one for me—there wasn't supposed to be one for me.

      Before the chef noticed me, I slipped into the kitchen office—conveniently located right by the napkins I'd fluffed—and shut the door and turned off the lights. I watched through the sliver of window in the office door as the chef checked the counter and gave a satisfied nod when he saw it was empty.

      He waved to another line of waiters. Don't make them drink alone.

      They moved as stiffly as their tuxedoes. Backs straight, they held up trays of blood free champagne with ninety-degree elbows and filed out of the kitchen like overstuffed penguins. The chef marched through the swinging doors after them, I assumed to supervise the distribution of drinks.

      I grabbed the duffel bag I'd stashed in the office earlier—that had required a fake delivery uniform. It had been easier to make a drop than I'd expected. Thanks to online retailers, there were so many freelance delivery people, no one blinked when I wasn't from a major carrier like UPS or FedEx. The gig economy was a perfect cover.

      I ditched the uniform I'd used to gain access to the kitchen and pulled on the ball gown. My stomach fisted with worry. Money was tight no thanks to all the hospital bills, which I might finally pay off by the time I'd been dead and buried for a century. I'd been confined to thrift shops for tonight's wardrobe. The dress would either help me blend in or make me stand out like a poseur.

      I wanted them to notice me, but not realize I didn't belong. It was a fine line—one I'd never walked before. Tonight could be a disaster that wiped out my plans like a tsunami. Or, it could be everything I'd planned.

      I'd set up my own lottery and bought a ticket, but I had no idea if I would win or lose.

      The dress fit me well enough, at least. The corset style ball gown had a bell skirt in a subdued maroon shot through with gold sequins. The color complimented my skin tone and was tight enough in the boobs to make them look three sizes bigger. I'd added a long sleeved shrug to the dress to hide the scar on my wrist and keep my boobs from being too front and center. For shoes, I'd opted for flats. Heels would just hurt. Especially if I had to run later.

      I wadded up the kitchen uniform and shoved it into the bag and then put the bag under the head chef's desk, tucking it behind the kitchen supplies he kept there. The guy was a slob with boxes towering everywhere. There was a small open space for his chair, and that was it. My guess was no one would find the bag until he retired and someone cleaned out the office.

      Smoothing my skirt and taking a deep breath, I threw open the office door and strode into the kitchen. The other chefs were too busy to notice me, and I burst through the doors separating the kitchen and ballroom without having to use the excuses I'd rehearsed.

      The contrast between the steaming, clanking, bustling kitchen and the cool ballroom with soothing classical music and soft voiced conversations gave me pause. I stepped to the side and put my back against the nearest wall, taking a moment to study my new environment.

      Of course, I'd done my homework and scouted the place weeks ago. But it hadn't been filled with heart-stopping handsome men or beautiful women who'd practiced elegance until it looked like their natural state.

      It was all so civilized until you realized the men were just really well dressed apex predators and the women were their prey. I had no illusions. I'd been bitten. I'd seen enough fangs to last several lifetimes. I knew exactly what vampires hid behind their veneer. They couldn't fool me, no matter how nice their clothes were.

      Well, I had my secrets, too. And some of them were just as deadly as fangs.

      A few of the vampires looked my way, their gazes piercing as fish hooks and bright with lures inviting me to bite. I tilted my head and studied the swirls of

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