Page 23 of Bleed

I snap the folder closed, leaning back and folding my arms across my chest. “Seriously,” I say, narrowing my eyes on her. “What’s the catch?”

“Honestly?” Francesca sighs, dropping the pretense for a moment and lowering her voice like she’s about to share classified information. “He’s known to be… difficult to get along with, socially. He’s made this exact arrangement four times now, and the longest any donor’s lasted was two months.”

I snort. “Please. I’m a pro at dealing with assholes.”

Fran gives me a look so deeply unconvinced it borders on offensive. “Then I’m sure you’ll beat the odds,” she says dryly, settling back into her chair. “I should mention that given Dr. Faulkner’s social standing with the public, becoming his exclusive donor means you’ll no longer be able to utilize your agency alias to conceal your identity. The tabloids can be relentless, and if you’re spotted together, they’ll stop at nothing to find out who you are. Use of an alias suggests you have something to hide and invites further investigation, which is generally bad for business.”

“Noted,” I murmur.

Bye, Tiffany. It was fun being you while it lasted.

“Take the next twenty-four hours to review the contract,” Fran continues, “and you can e-sign if you’re comfortable moving forward. Once it’s finalized, we’ll coordinate our relocation team to assist with your transition.”

I cock a brow. “That easy?”

She dips her chin in a nod. “That easy. Exclusive donor arrangements are becoming increasingly common, Miss Hamilton. We facilitate them regularly.”

I toy with the bracelet around my wrist, eyeing the folder sitting between us.

Three million dollars.

A year living with a hot vampire scientist.

No sex– just blood, cohabitation, and whatever being his ‘research assistant’ entails.

Honestly, the last part sounds boring as fuck, but I’m more than willing to suffer boredom for a year in exchange for a three million dollar payout.

I heave a sigh, leaning forward to reach for the contract. “You got a pen?”

Fran visibly stiffens. “I’d strongly encourage you to review the contract thoroughly before making any final–”

“I’m good,” I cut in, holding out a hand and wiggling my fingers impatiently. “Pen?”

She clears her throat and swivels toward the pen holder on her desk, plucking one free and handing it over slowly, like she’s expecting I’ll come to my senses at any moment and back out.

Not happening, Franny.

I flip the folder open, thumb straight to the signature page, and sign on the dotted line.

Because the truth is, I never really had a choice.

This is what it’ll take to keep Taylor safe, and at least with Dr. Faulkner, I won’t have to play dumb about why I’m doing this. There’ll be no pretending, no dancing around secrets, no wondering if he knows more than he’s saying. This arrangement is exactly what it claims to be– transactional, necessary, and temporary.

At least that’s what I tell myself while signing away the next year of my life.

I scrawl the final letter of my name, then toss the pen down and slide the folder back across the desk. “Am I free to go, then?” I ask, uncrossing my legs and pushing to my feet.

“Yes, but…” Fran trails off as she checks my signature, brows lifting slightly. “We’ll need some time to process everything and coordinate the relocation team. Usually donors take a little longer before signing.”

“I’m good with whenever,” I reply flippantly, already wondering how the hell I’m supposed to break this news to Devin and Alaia.

Maybe they’ll be thrilled to have the apartment to themselves.

Maybe they won’t even miss me.

A hollow feeling cleaves through my chest, my stomach bottoming out.

Fran closes the folder with a soft snap. “I’ll be in touch, then.”