MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Somewhere off in a more lively area, a pale woman with a wicked model-like figure stood at the top of a building. The building itself was a brothel, Elena nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, my lord. Always."

Duncan's smile was like a knife's edge. "Good," he purred, his fingers trailing down her neck. For a moment, Elena thought he might bite her too, might finally grant her the dark gift she secretly craved. But then he pulled away, leaving her breathless and aching.

"Clean up this mess," Duncan ordered, gesturing vaguely at the closed doors hiding the drained women. "I have business to attend to."

With that, he strode away, leaving Elena alone in the hallway. She sagged against the wall, her heart pounding. The night's events replayed in her mind, a mix of horror and exhilaration. She knew what Duncan did to those women. And she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at being part of it all.

Shaking herself, Elena set to work. She called in her most trusted aide, Drake who knew how to be discreet. They tended to the women, erasing any evidence of what had truly transpired. By morning, the girls would remember only a night of incredible pleasure.

The next day, Elena reclined in her luxurious chaise lounge, basking in the dim light of her grand manor's sitting room. The heavy curtains were drawn tight against the afternoon sun, creating a cocoon of shadow perfect for a vampire's daytime rest.

She sipped slowly from a crystal glass filled with a rich, crimson liquid - not blood, but a rare vintage of red wine she'd been saving for a special occasion.

Today marked the second anniversary of her brothel, and Elena allowed herself a moment of reflection. Two years of working under Duncan with the promise of more power and greater things, two years of better learning to navigate the complex world of vampire society while maintaining her human facade.

Her thoughts drifted to Duncan. Her sire, her master, her... something more complicated than either of those terms could encompass. In the years she's spent with him, she'd watched him grow ever more powerful. His influence now extended far beyond their city, reaching into the highest echelons of both vampire and human society.

Elena smiled to herself, a mixture of pride and something darker coloring her expression. She'd played no small part in Duncan's rise. Her management of the high-end brothel had provided him with a steady stream of information, influence, power, and the occasional, carefully selected victim to feed upon.

As the sun began to set, Elena stirred from her repose. Night was falling, and with it came her responsibilities. She moved to her expansive closet, selecting a sleek black dress that hugged her curves. As she dressed, she mentally reviewed the night's agenda.

There was a new client to entertain - a wealthy businesswoman with political connections that Duncan was keen to exploit. Elena would have to ensure she had an unforgettable evening, one that would leave her eager to return and willing to share her secrets.

Then there was the matter of the new girls. Three had been added to the roster recently, and Elena needed to assess their performance. Any who showed signs of being unsuitable would need to be... dealt with. Discretion was paramount in their line of work.

As she applied her makeup with practiced ease, Elena's phone buzzed with a message. It was from Duncan: "Join me for a late supper after your duties are concluded. We have matters to discuss."

Elena's heart would have quickened if it still beat. An invitation to dine with Duncan was rare these days, as his growing power kept him increasingly occupied. She quickly typed out a response: "Of course, my lord. I look forward to it."

With a final glance in the mirror, Elena declared herself ready. She swept through her manor, pausing only to instruct her staffs about maintaining the house in her absence. They were well-paid and exceptionally discreet, chosen carefully for their ability to turn a blind eye to their mistress's affairs.

The drive to the brothel was short, her sleek sports car purring through the night. As she pulled up to the valet, Elena took a moment to compose herself, slipping fully into her role as the establishment's elegant, mysterious owner.

Inside, the brothel hummed with quiet activity. Soft music played, mingling with the low murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. The scent of expensive perfume and even more expensive liquor hung in the air.

Elena moved through the space like a queen surveying her domain. She greeted regular clients with a warm smile and a knowing look, made sure the new girls were settling in, and kept a watchful eye on every interaction.

The night progressed smoothly. The new client was suitably impressed, already hinting at a return visit. One of the new girls showed promise, while another would require some additional training. All in all, a successful evening.

As the last clients departed and the cleaning staff began their work, Elena retreated to her office. She spent an hour reviewing the night's receipts and making notes for future improvements before finally allowing herself to anticipate her upcoming meeting with Duncan.

She left the brothel in the capable hands of Drake and drove to Duncan's estate on the outskirts of the city. The grand gates opened silently at her approach, recognizing her car.

Duncan awaited her in his study, a room that always seemed to Elena to exist in a perpetual twilight. As she entered, her eyes were immediately drawn to his imposing figure.

His tall frame cut a striking silhouette against the dim light filtering through the heavy velvet curtains. He wore a impeccably tailored Tom Ford suit in charcoal grey, the fabric seeming to absorb and reflect the shadows around him. A crisp white Brioni shirt provided a stark contrast, accentuating his pale, flawless skin.

His signature salt-and-pepper hair was swept back, revealing a face that seemed carved from marble - ageless, beautiful, and utterly captivating. Steel-grey eyes, holding the wisdom of millennia, locked onto Elena's, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

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