Dirty Money Book Novels & Stories

I go into the panic room and shut the door. I hear the office door open, and the three men begin to go through the office. "Where is she?" Mr. David calls out in anger. I am not sure I can trust him, either. I open the floor of the panic room, revealing the safe. I put the key into the safe and open it. I reach in and pull out a bag of money, a new ID for me, and a credit card. I have a feeling I might be on the run for a while.

I was shaking all over now, sweat slicking my lower back and making my shirt stick to me, my thighs trembling hard under his strong grip. Every tiny vibration pushed me right to the edge and held me there, desperate and pulsing and so close I could taste it. My mind would not stop spinning on how filthy this whole thing was. His name permanently inked on my inner thigh, so close to my pussy that anyone who ever ate me out or fucked me would see it. And I loved it. I loved how possessive it felt, how dirty it made me feel. “Last letter,” he murmured, leaning in even closer so his warm breath blew right across my glistening, swollen folds.

But no matter how much money you have, it truly doesn't buy happiness. Money helps attract gorgeous women who would otherwise never take another glance at me. And real friends? Like soul connecting, makes you laugh until you cry, or how long it's been since you've seen them, you just jump in right where you left off. Yeah those are even harder to find when you have a trust fund and successful company. I've been betrayed and fooled more times than I like to admit but just this once I had wished my gut was right about Holly. I now know how she thinks the world sees her and how she reacts to that. LonelyGirl was the perfect username for her. All she needed to add was by choice.

I debate on asking him why he’s late, but I don’t bother. “I spent the last fifteen years managing the estate of Madison Breer. After she passed away I took some time off to study economics at Harvard. I graduated-” “Who are you?” I ask. “Excuse me, sir?” He looks confused. “I’m more interested in what kind of person you are. What do you do for fun? Favorite book? Do you like music? What makes you, you?” He froze, “I don’t know.” He said. “Give me a call when you figure that out.” I get up and walk him to the door. Ernie shows his dismay as I motion for him to escort the soulless man out of my home. That man and I would have nothing to talk about. He’s a doorknob.

"Good. Then it's in the wrists. Sweep like that forever and one day you'll cut." He beamed at the floor all the rest of the evening. The money taught her the rest. Cash flow is a language, and it is fluent only in insults, and Elena learned it the way she'd learned Italian wine laws, at night, on her knees. Sofia kept the books she'd once threatened to keep, in a ledger that mirrored, across the city, the ledger in a drawer: every euro in, every euro out, and at the bottom, on the first of each month, the standing transfer to N., which had grown from fifty to five hundred and never once missed.

Did they really think no one would find it? "You've embezzled quite a lot of the pack's money. It's no wonder you're a very wealthy man. Some would write it off as generational wealth but this," I lifted the book, "tells me otherwise." I could practically see the sweat rolling down the side of his head and the sound of his erratic heart beat. He was starting to panic and give off subtle traces of fear yet, he still had the audacity to try to deny his crimes. "I know not what you-"

"I don't want to beg. Please. I know you can help us, if anyone in the family can." "I don't think so, Sheri." I told her, looking at her crestfallen look. "As long as you're working at that MLM stuff, it's throwing good money after bad. You must know that 99% of the people lose money in the long run. You're just treading water and helping those above you lose less money each month. And your expenses must be huge. You'd be better of just going bankrupt, and taking your lumps." "God no! Chris would kill me. We're having enough problems. If he found out I'd spent most of our nest-egg I don't think we'd survive it."

Destroy my and A Deer's Erhai dream! What gives you the right to easily destroy what others have worked so hard to get! He said it was dirty? Calling this money dirty? She didn't open her thighs to be fucked, she didn't go and take off her clothes to sell her meat ...... She sold her dignity, she sold her soul for the money ...... She gave birth to her father, so who is he to say that she is dirty! Say this money dirty! At all, nothing to understand! He said this money is dirty, it is easy to tear up?

“Anything that looks like it doesn’t belong.” They split up, each of them taking a different row of crates to search. The tension was palpable, every creak and groan of the building setting their nerves on edge. Sophia’s hands shook as she opened one of the crates, her breath catching in her throat as she saw what was inside. It was filled with stacks of cash, neatly bundled and arranged in rows. This wasn’t just dirty money—this was a fortune, the kind of money that could buy influence, power, and silence. And it was all here, hidden away in this forgotten corner of the city.

Or maybe he was trying to convince himself about it because he loved himself more. He’d sent out a team to find the key to Richmond's wealth. Those gold, billions of dollars, diamonds, and the Golden Buddha were in Anthony's keeping since their careers in treasure hunting over in Asia. Yet Anthony Richmond became greedy. His own cousin, the old man, was smart enough to hand it to anyone but to his grandson, who had no idea that wealth existed, but after a long day of taking apart everything in Shawn Richmond’s home and trying to persuade Dave Brown, they still came up empty-handed.