Filthy Rich Read online

  Praise for Virna DePaul

  “If you’re looking for a hot, sexy, emotional read, Virna DePaul delivers!”

  —New York Times and USA Today bestselling author J. KENNER

  “Virna DePaul creates yummy alpha heroes.”

  —New York Times bestselling author TINA FOLSOM

  Praise for Awakened

  “Barrett and Nick’s electrifying chemistry, coupled with a clever and intricate plot, makes this one amazing read.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “A nifty romantic suspense to sink your teeth into.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Virna DePaul did an amazing job.”

  —Smitten with Reading

  “I am more than satisfied. Between the great character and good plot, a paranormal romance fan couldn’t do any better.”

  —The Jeep Diva

  Praise for Turned

  “A captivating start to a fascinating new series with a hero that’s to die for.”

  —Bestselling author RHYANNON BYRD

  “With Turned, Virna DePaul delivers a sexy and exciting new take on the vampire novel, one that comes complete with a kick-ass heroine and a to-die-for hero. I can’t wait for the sequel!”

  —TRACY WOLFF, bestselling author of Ruined

  “Turned is intense, intricate, and insomnia-inducing (plan to stay up way too late!). Virna DePaul puts the awesome in the awesomesauce of paranormal romance.”

  —JOYCE LAMB, curator, USA Today’s Happy Ever After

  “Plenty of action, an intriguing plot, a crisp narrative and stellar pacing pulls the reader into the story and keeps the pages turning.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “DePaul’s first Belladonna Agency paranormal will appeal to readers who like their vampires sexy [and] their heroines spunky.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “The chemistry between the two was great and made for some very sexy scenes.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “This book has everything you could want and so, so much more!”

  —Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

  “Turned is an intriguing story with flawed characters who I connected with immediately. Fans of paranormal romance rejoice, here’s a compelling new series to sink your teeth into.”

  —Harlequin Junkie

  “Strong characters and great writing…Virna DePaul will have you coming back for more!”

  —Booked and Loaded

  “Turned is a great start to a new series. If you like paranormal romance with a strong romantic suspense element, I recommend giving Turned a try.”

  —Under the Covers

  “I loved Ana and Ty…. The attraction for both is instant.”

  —From the TBR Pile

  “The world DePaul created is unique, suspenseful, sensual, and leaves a reader begging for book two.”

  —Dark Horse Romance Reviews

  “Gripping! Provocative! Sexy! Intense! Dangerous! Thought-provoking! These are only a few of the words that come to mind after reading Turned by Virna DePaul.”

  —BlackRaven Reviews (5 Ravens and a Recommended Read)

  “Turned, first book in the Belladonna Agency series by Virna DePaul, is a page turner and grabbed me from the beginning and had me reading until the wee hours of the morning.”

  —The Jeep Diva

  “This is an author whose work continues to delight.”

  —Just Talking Books

  Praise for the Novels of Virna DePaul

  “Seducer and protector—this vampire has it all.”

  —Fresh Fiction, on A Vampire’s Salvation

  “Virna DePaul is amazing!”

  —New York Times bestselling author LORI FOSTER

  “Incredibly well written, different, and hot.”

  —New York Times bestselling author LARISSA IONE

  “A gripping tale! DePaul creates the perfect blend of danger, intrigue, and romance. You won’t be able to put this book down!”

  —New York Times bestselling author BRENDA NOVAK

  “If you have not yet started this [Para-Ops] series…you are really missing out.”

  —The Book Reading Gals

  “This is my first book by Virna DePaul and it will definitely not be my last. Deadly Charade is a suspenseful story full of love, betrayal, and forgiveness.”

  —Fresh Fiction, on Deadly Charade

  “Intense, emotionally charged, and thrilling.”

  —Fresh Fiction, on Shades of Desire

  “DePaul’s romantic suspense has shades of a thriller inside the pages, with damaged characters, love scenes that make the pages almost too hot to handle and hair-raising villains.”

  —RT Book Reviews, on Shades of Desire

  “Plenty of chemistry between the leads—along with edge-of-your-seat suspense—will keep you riveted.”

  —RT Book Reviews, on Shades of Passion

  “DePaul offers up an intriguing world rife with moral dilemmas and mistrust.”

  —Publishers Weekly, on Chosen by Blood

  “Seriously sensual! The sexual tension leaps off the page. DePaul has made a name for herself with paranormal fans who aren’t shy when it comes to titillating dialogue and interaction.”

  —RT Book Reviews, on Chosen by Blood

  Filthy Rich is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Virna DePaul

  Excerpt from Turned by Virna DePaul copyright © 2014 by Virna DePaul

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  BANTAM BOOKS and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  ISBN 9780345542496

  eBook ISBN 9780345542502

  Cover photograph: © InnervisionArt/Shutterstock

  randomhousebooks.com

  v4.1

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dedication

  By Virna DePaul

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Turned

  Chapter One

  “Go. Just go. At a party like this, you could meet the love of your life.”

  Cara Michal didn’t bother rolling her eyes, mostly because her friend Iris was giving out unwanted advice over the phone and couldn’t see her do it.

  “I work on Wall Street, Iris. The guys I work with, the ones attending this company event, aren’t interested in love. Even if they were, I’m not.”

  “Well, apparently you’re not interested in fun or sex, either. Jesus, Cara, just how long has it been since you’ve be
en on a date?”

  This time Cara did roll her eyes, but smiled. Usually Iris wouldn’t have to ask the question—knowing someone since high school made it so questions like this were usually irrelevant—but their monthly mani-pedi meet-up had been forfeited for the last six weeks due to Cara’s intense work schedule, and Cara had barely managed to respond to Iris’s multiple texts with a simple thumbs-up or “ugh” face. She’d barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone check in with her friend. She missed Iris. Thankfully, the huge project she’d been working on was over and she’d be getting back to a seventy-five-hour work week instead of what had been closer to a hundred. And maybe get back to dating, too, although she doubted it. The last few dates she’d accepted had been more trouble than they were worth, and she wasn’t eager for a repeat.

  “It’s been awhile,” Cara admitted. “But I knew when I started the four-year analyst program at Dubois & Mellan, that’s what I was signing up for. That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” she added dryly. Earning a six-figure salary three years after graduating college wasn’t anything to scoff at, but the reality was that it didn’t go very far, either. Not for a single woman living in Manhattan with the kind of responsibilities Cara had, anyway.

  “By this time next year, that’ll all change. You’ll get your bonus for completing the program, dole it out to your family, and finally listen to me when I say you need to seriously rethink your chosen profession and do something you love,” Iris said, confidence in her tone.

  Another thing about knowing someone since high school was the freedom they felt in handing out unwanted advice. Cara bit her lip and counted to five before answering. “I love analyzing numbers,” she pointed out.

  It was mostly a true statement, but there were other things she loved more. Things she might have tried out as a career if her life had turned out differently, like teaching high school math, or computer engineering. Only Iris knew the true reason Cara had become a Wall Street analyst: after her father had died, she’d needed to make good money and make it fast, and if she had to sacrifice her personal life to do it, so be it. But that conversation was one Cara would rather avoid. Iris was trying to help, but sometimes her brand of help simply made Cara feel a restlessness she couldn’t afford. “You know it’s not as easy as that,” Cara said quietly. “If the firm offers me a permanent position, I’ll have to take it.”

  “Even though the work is killing you?” Iris said.

  “Overly dramatic, much?” Cara responded dryly.

  Iris sighed. “Dead horse. Moving on. You still haven’t answered my question. Have you gone on any dates in the last few weeks that I’m unaware of?”

  “Um, I went out with a colleague a couple of times, though we also talked shop so I could justify it.” Greg Johnson was like many of the junior stockbrokers that Cara knew. Tall and attractive. Young. A bit cocky. Rock-hard abs and biceps threatening to bust the seams of his designer clothing. A dazzling smile made more dazzling by teeth whitening. Summa cum laude at Yale. And yet over the course of a couple of dates, he’d proven to be uninspiring. Besides, dating coworkers wasn’t high on her list—too many chances for things to go wrong, and when they did, the inevitable awkward silences and gawky avoidance moves in the hallway would ensue.

  “You’re talking about that guy Greg from your office, right? You had dinner and drinks a couple of times. You said you were bored. Hardly a date, in my book.”

  “You mean because we didn’t end up between the sheets?” They’d started off at one of the French restaurants near their office—where Greg had attempted to illustrate his knowledge of fine dining and wine. But while his overly loud and cocksure attitude had attracted the fawning attention of a couple of sleek young women at the bar, it had flattened her libido. Once the check came and he’d tried to convince her to go with him to a nightclub, she’d pointedly suggested making it an early night.

  “Not exactly, but I detect a noticeable lack of enthusiasm about this guy,” Iris said. “And no wonder. He sounds safe. Just like every other guy you’ve dated the past few years. Would you like me to fix you up with someone?”

  “No thanks,” Cara said quickly. “I can manage. Besides, you and I seem to go after men that are complete opposites.”

  “Yeah, but that hasn’t always been the case. Remember Tony Spokane?”

  Cara’s mouth tipped up. Did she ever. Tony Spokane had been the high school cigarette-smoking bad boy, complete with leather jacket, motorcycle boots, and long hair. He’d also been the one thing that had ever threatened to come between her and Iris. When Cara had realized that, she’d given Iris the all clear. And if she’d continued to periodically daydream about Tony and that dangerous self-assured glint in his eye, long after he and Iris had stopped dating, well, she’d kept that to herself. Just like she kept to herself the fact she still occasionally daydreamed about bedding a bad boy. Someone sexy and powerful and as far from the high-finance men she dated as one could get.

  “Old Tony turned out to be more your speed than mine,” Cara said. “And now that I think about it, most of the guys you date bear a strong resemblance to old Tony.”

  Iris snorted. “True. And that’s not necessarily a good thing. At least you meet employed guys.”

  “There is that.” Cara leaned back in her chair. Iris had been an artist, actress, gossip blogger, and stand-up comic. At the moment, she was waiting tables in Brooklyn at a dive that served nachos and two-dollar cans of beer to poets and artists. The borrowing type. Another reason Cara had passed on her friend’s offer—yeah, sure, Iris’s boyfriends were sexy as hell, but so totally unreliable.

  “So this guy Greg doesn’t make the cut? Not even for a good old-fashioned roll in the hay? Didn’t you say he’s sexy?”

  “Sexy body…not too sexy of a brain. And his self-serving attitude isn’t all that sexy, either.”

  “Is he going to be at the party tonight?”

  “He wants to go together, but I haven’t committed.” Cara sat up straight again and fiddled with a pen, tapping it on her desktop. “Some important client of ours is throwing it. Attendance is strongly encouraged, which translates as show up and suck up. But I get so little time off as it is; hanging out with my coworkers is not how I relish spending it.”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “Something big with D&M is going to be announced, I think. Maybe a new contract. Or someone’s retiring.” More likely checking in for an extended stay at a mental-health rehab facility. It happened in her line of work. A lot. Between the intensity of the work weeks—surgery residents had nothing on stock market traders—and the pervasive alcohol and drug use that came with trying to stay on top of the game, people crashed right and left. Not her, though. She stayed on the straight and narrow. Did her job and only her job.

  Maybe that’s why lately she’d been feeling so…uneasy. Discombobulated. Like her world had shifted off center and she was standing at a tilt. If her high school crush on Tony had taught her anything, it was that there was a wild side to her. Granted, a small one, but one that needed to break free every once in a while. Nowadays all she did was work. And work. And work. Except for those rare times she went by herself to dance in nightclubs, and that obviously wasn’t cutting it anymore. But what would? Finding her own modern-day Tony Spokane to pine after?

  As if.

  She rubbed her temple, trying to dull the slight headache she felt coming on.

  “Whatever it is, you should probably hear the news firsthand,” Iris said, interrupting Cara’s thoughts. “And the thing is, you really don’t get out much.”

  That was true enough. “I suppose I’ll go.”

  “As if there was any real doubt,” Iris snorted. “You live and breathe that job, Cara.”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately.” Exhaustion hit, settling into her bones, causing her to drop her pen and lean back in her chair. How much longer could she push this hard? A memory of her childhood, her family on the shore during summer, swam into her mind. How g
entle and relaxed and warm that day had been…her and her brother, Glenn, chasing waves up and down the beach, their mother reading a book under the sun umbrella, their father combing the beach for seashells…Just as quickly, the mental image slipped away, leaving her with the sting of nostalgia and the strong desire to be back there, on the beach with her family and her once-idyllic childhood. Impossible, yes…“But…”

  “But what?”

  She started. She hadn’t realized she’d said the word out loud. “I do have three weeks of vacation that I’ve never used,” she said. “Maybe I’ll actually take a few days to escape.” She tried to imagine it. Warm sand and water. A frothy drink in her hand. Nothing to do but read a good book and flirt with a hot cabana boy or two. Not quite like her childhood experience at the Jersey shore, but something similar…something relaxed. Maybe the Bahamas or even South Carolina. Someplace where she could hear the roar of the surf at night and feel the heat of the sun during the day.

  Yeah, right, like she’d ever take the time off work and go somewhere.

  More realistically, she’d probably stay close and spend most of the time with her mother or Glenn. Visiting her brother in his residential treatment home, Windorne Care Home, wasn’t the most relaxing of events. She normally tried to see him once a week, but those visits were often stressful and rushed. She counted her blessings that her mind was healthy—she couldn’t imagine how difficult life was for her brother, who had had treatment-resistant schizophrenia since his late teen years.

  “You seriously should. But never mind the three weeks. Tonight would be, what? Three hours of your precious time?”

  “Maybe four. I have to get there and back. The party’s being held at some private house along Long Island Sound.”