Novel & Cerita Dirty Money Book

Makes it harder for any spies listening in to get what it is we’re talking about… “But I do have a problem right now Froggy that I think may involve you…” And here it comes… get ready for it, Nate… ”What do you mean by that, Sir?" ”We recently have a few chapters missing from your other book, and it may seem that you have sold it to another publication. You do realize that you’re an exclusive writer with us and you’re not supposed to pass your books to another company, right?” ”What book is this, Sir?” ”The Accountant’s Records.”

As they exit the dressing room, Kat is waiting for her. “You rock girl,” Kat says. Kat hugs her. “Anytime you have an issue, you call me. I will come down here and kick some ass,” Reese says. We can eat at a restaurant or the Dungeon?” Luca asks Reese. “I have always wanted to see the Dungeon,” Reese replies. “The Dungeon it is,” Luca answers. The two arrive at the Dungeon. The Dungeon is well known for its erotic secrets. The Dungeon is a bar and restaurant, but what it is known for, is what goes on downstairs. The Dungeon is a place you can pay to have your fantasies come to life. No sex only play.

Chloe's POV I thought I was just having a wet dream. I was floating in the heavy, warm darkness after spending half the night writing one of my erotica books. My body was stretched out on tangled sheets and I was wearing nothing but an old cotton T-shirt that had ridden up to my ribs. I thought the book I was writing was affecting my dream because someone was sucking my pussy in the dream. I felt a tongue. Slow and deliberate. It slid from the bottom of my slit up to my clit in one long, dirty lick.

I said. “Oh ok, so he works downtown in the financial district huh?” “Girl yes and it gets even better than that. I searched him online to find a F******k page and found him,” “Look at you and your detective work. So what, does he have a wife, 3 kids and a bunch of money?” “He has no wife, no kids and a bunch of money.” “Shut the fuck up!” she yelled again. “How you know all that?” “Like I said I did my research and Mr. Malachi Brooks is some kind of financial guru or some shit. And he’s also one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors.”

he let on, hands settling on my breasts. "All our money he used it for himself. Ironic enough, he used it in drugs, in alcohol and taking girls every single night into fancy hotels. It all exhausted, depending on the thought of using Jeremy's money just for himself," he recounted, massaging me breasts. My head laid on his broad shoulder as feeling of ecstasy took over me. I was getting information that I needed without even trying along with the amaizing sex. His thumb rubbed against my clitoris as he continued. "He doesn't even afford a good place to sleep, just because he's trying to lock out his pain."

The headlines flashed dangerously before me: “Billionaire Big-shot busted in bathroom bonanza with another dude;” “Toilet tryst torches tycoon’s rep: caught pants-down with a guy;” “Filthy rich and filthy habits: billionaire’s bathroom boy-toy bust;” The morbid names kept coming, each worse than the order that held me bound to where I was as I watched him leave the bathroom. As soon as his presence left I felt some sort of motion in my bones. I moved slowly, pushing the door.

He pulled off his shirt last, and even though his body was older, it was thick with power, defined in a way that made it hard to look away. Dennis’ voice brought me back. “Stewart, are you going to give us an answer?” My eyes drifted over them, shameless and greedy. I didn’t even try to hide it. I blamed the alcohol and the heat and the fact that these men looked like sin and temptation rolled into one. I thought about how professional I was supposed to be, how nothing about this was in the rulebook. But then again, this wasn’t a rulebook moment. I didn’t even get the chance to answer.

A common scar as a code. The document opened. It was a slender, fragmented string of money, a series of digital crumbs Rico had nearly lost his life gathering. It was a hellbook, written in the sterile language of international banking. He spent hours verifying the data, navigating the tablet's rudimentary web browser onto the dark web through a series of anonymizing relays he set up, his fingers racing with speed born of desperation. He was a mapmaker of corruption, plotting a whirlpool of bewildering size.

I wasn’t the Mafia, he was. And in a deal to save the club, he bought about a portion of it to shield his dirty dealings. With drugs and the cartel but it was underground anyway and I could tell myself that if I couldn’t see it, it was none of my business when deep down I knew that if ever the police came to raid and they saw all the mess, we could both be in trouble. That was the truth.

I let the silence fill in the threat. Marrin’s throat bobs. His hands twitch at his sides restlessly. Finally, he collapses onto the couch like his bones gave out. “Bainbridge,” he mutters. “It’s all Bainbridge. That’s the center of the web.” Sophia’s pen moves fast, her voice steady. “Laundering?” He nods, jerky and desperate. “Yeah. Money in, money out, clean on the books, dirty underneath. They’ve been moving millions for years. Mafia money, drug money, you name it. Offshore accounts, shell corporations. Platinum was just another piece of the machine.”