Vikki

This has to be a dream…a nightmare…it can't possibly be real. I can't be in a library which swirls with books and gold leaf covered carvings, spiral staircases, and long mahogany tables.

I can't be about to agree to a contract which will net me a cool half a million pounds for one month's work. And not only that, but the troll who is offering it to me, is the legendary billionaire business-troll, the one they call the contract-killer because he's supposed to be ruthless in the extreme. Mr. Maxim Horenson. Even before the veil fell, his company Quake Industries had quite the reputation.

But it isn't a dream and there is a vampire lawyer merrily typing away on his laptop as my troll, the one who purchased me by accident, doesn't let those blue eyes leave me.

"Terms?" the vampire asks him.

"I want you to start tonight," Mr. Horenson says in his deliciously deep voice.

He has lit another cigar, and there is a fragrant gray fog hanging over his head. Those blue eyes twinkle with badness.

"Only seems fair," he adds, taking a sip of the amber liquid in the crystal glass. "For the amount I'm spending."

I look at Alyssia but all she can do is offer me a sheepish shrug.

"Okay, but then I'll need someone to take my car home."

"You won't need your car. Mine will be at your disposal," my soon to be employer says.

"I can't leave it here, it'll get towed," I grind out. "I want my car."

He holds his hands up in defeat. "Fine. You can have your car. John'll make the arrangements." He turns to the vampire lawyer. "Are you done?"

"All drafted," John says, spinning the laptop towards Mr. Horenson, who reads over it quickly, nodding once or twice. He presses his thumb on the trackpad before turning the screen to me.

I did my undergraduate degree in International Relations, which, as it turned out, was a complete waste of time once the veil lifted and the Lowerworld revealed itself. Nations were suddenly less bothered about each other and more about the influx of monsters into our world. So, for a while, I worked as a paralegal in a cross world law firm, and reading contracts doesn't faze me too much. I give Mr. Horenson the benefit of a good glare before I start.

It seems standard. There's no weird clauses which jump out at me. I find myself nodding just like the troll did.

"Okay, this all looks fine to me, other than what I'm actually going to do for you."

"We can discuss the finer details later," Mr. Horenson says, rising from the table. "If we are in agreement, I will get the car. Give John your details to complete the contract." He stalks around the table and is gone, leaving behind only a puff of smoke.

The vampire looks at me. "If you're ready to sign, place your thumb here."

He points to the trackpad.

I take a deep breath. I mean, I'm not going to be the troll's slave for a month or anything. The contract promises me work to match my abilities. And there is a break clause, either party agreeing to end the contract in the case of unreconcilable differences. It's also perfectly clear there's to be nothing untoward, if the parties don't consent.

Half a million pounds? I'll never have to worry about anything ever again. This is life changing. This means I can live again.

So really, what have I got to lose?

I put my thumb on the pad and then dig into my bag for my purse, sliding my debit card across the shiny tabletop. The lawyer picks it up and types in the numbers.

"There you go, Miss. Graham. All signed and sealed. I'll email a copy of the contract for your records."

I stare at him.

He leans across to me, all vampire cologne, the sort they think attracts humans.

"In my experience, Mr. Horenson doesn't like to be kept waiting," he says as I bristle. "Especially by his employees, old or new."