Authors: Delilah Fawkes
I glared up at him, my arms crossed, daring him with my eyes to touch me again. I’d show him how it felt to be kicked where the sun don’t shine.
We eyed one another, him just inches away from me, willing one another to blink first, like we were in an old Western, and we were each waiting for the other to draw first.
A loud buzzing noise broke the spell.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and glanced down at the screen.
“Shit,” he said under his breath. “
Stay here
.”
He walked back to the doorway and answered the call, answering with a terse “Yes,” or “No,” every so often.
I moved further into the room, really allowing myself to see where the hell I was for the first time.
This is a hotel room? Holy shit!
I was in a palace, more like it. The room was twice as big as my apartment, although that wasn’t saying much. Sometimes I thought the little VW bus I salvaged was bigger than my place, which is why I used it as part transportation, part closet. But this place was unreal.
Everything was modern and spaciously laid out, decorated like the cover of a housekeeping magazine in tasteful blacks and neutrals. A contemporary painting hung over a fireplace as big as my kitchen, looking more like something a five-year-old did in art class than anything I’d pay money for, but to each their own.
I made my way over to what looked like a wet bar, and eyed the crystal there. Everything here seemed to be either crystal or marble or gold, and it was all wasted on the caveman who dragged me here…
“Fine. Yes, I’ll be there!”
The maniac hung up with a frustrated grunt, just as I slid a crystal ashtray deep into my hoody.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to continue our little conversation later,” he said, glancing over at me.
“Fabulous, darling,” I said, strutting over to him. “Have your people call my people, and we’ll set something up.”
I moved to grab the knob, but he grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt.
“Uh, uh, uh. Not so fast, little thief! Did you really think I was going to let you go, just like that?”
I stared up at him, trying to assess how fucked I was by the gleam in his endless black eyes.
“You’re just going to have to come with me,” he said, then looked me over, frowning. “Goddamn it. They won’t let you in like this…”
“Who won’t let me in where?”
I shrugged him off again, and crossed my arms, scowling.
“Do you have anything else?” he said, feeling my sweatshirt between his thumb and forefinger.
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, sure! I’ll just get out the Versace I keep stashed in the alleyway…”
“Actually, that would be great,” he said, grinning.
Oh, brother.
“What the hell makes you think I’d go
anywhere
with you?”
“Besides the fact that you still haven’t given me my wallet?”
“I don’t have it!”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re giving me no choice.”
I shrieked as he grabbed me and flipped me over, holding me by my waist. He shook me up and down, like I was a goddamn saltshaker. Several wallets came tumbling out as my sweatshirt hiked up over my head, exposing my sports bra. I yelled as a wallet banged me on the nose.
“Put me down, goddamn it! Stop!”
“As you wish, my lady,” the maniac smirked, dropping me roughly onto my feet.
I pulled my shirt back down over my head and felt my cheeks burning from embarrassment. No one had seen me in just my bra since I was a teenager, and I planned on keeping it that way.
Love was for suckers. It was just one more way for someone to use you and try to control you, and I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
He stooped down and picked up the black Armani wallet near his feet and smiled at me as I adjusted my clothes. I gave it one last longing look. The wallet alone was worth more than everything else I’d stolen that day put together, not to mention the cash and credit cards within.
He waved it beneath my nose.
“Look familiar?”
I stuck my tongue out at him and stopped to gather up the other wallets. He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Leave them. I’m not done with you yet.”
He dragged me into the bedroom, and I dug my heels in, trying to get away.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Pervert! I ain’t that kind of girl!”
“Relax,” the asshole said. “I have every intention of being a gentleman, but we need to get you out of that rat-chewed sweatshirt and into something presentable.”
He closed the door and pointed a finger at me, as if to say “stay.” Like I was a dog. But I knew if I didn’t work something out with him I was going to be cooling my heels in the county lock up before the sun set. Besides, he had my knife, and I’d be damned if I was going to let
him
steal from
me
.
He rummaged around in his massive walk-in closet while I sat on the bed in a huff.
“What size are you? A six?”
I glared at him and said nothing. How the fuck did he know my size?
“That’s what I thought,” he said, grinning.
He tossed a dress at me from the back of his closet, a little black number that hit me in the face. It smelled vaguely of perfume—something expensive.
“Should I ask why you have women’s clothing in your closet, or should I just assume you’re a serial killer?”
“Sometimes women leave things here,” he said, shrugging. “I can’t keep track, of who left what, so if anything gets left behind, I usually dump it downstairs for the concierge to work out. I’d forgotten about this one… but seeing you like this jogged my memory.”
“So there’s a woman somewhere running around in just her underwear, freezing her ass off?”
He smirked at me, his eyes flashing mischievously.
“That one in particular,” he said, his voice low and devilish. “Liked being humiliated.”
I raised an eyebrow, then looked down at the dress, beautiful made. I checked the label.
Calvin Klein.
“So, I made her take her car home without it after we were done… playing our game, here.”
He laughed.
“I’d almost forgotten.”
I gaped at him.
“You sent a woman out in these streets with no clothes after dark?”
“She’s fine,” he said, hand waving my words away. “She had her driver waiting.”
I shook my head. What the hell kind of world did this guy live in, where his booty calls had their own drivers? It was ridiculous, but I had to admit, rubbing the silken fabric between my fingertips, it was a kind of ridiculous I’d always wanted.
But girls like me didn’t get to live like this. My Mama always said people born poor, and that’s how they’d die. It was just the way the world worked.
I never wanted to believe that, but sometimes I feared she was right.
Ever since I was little, though, I wanted more. I wanted The Good Life. Just a taste of it, if nothing else. Sometimes, I stole bottles of Chanel No. 5. I got lucky the other day and managed to palm one in a Macy’s downtown. It didn’t make me rich when I wore it, but the scent itself was so fine, so luxurious… sometimes it made me forget for a while that I wasn’t part of that world.
And when the electricity got cut off and I was shivering in the dark and the cold, hunger clawing at me from the inside out, forgetting was all that I had to get me through the night.
It was enough.
“Put that on,” he said.
It was a command, his tone brooking no argument.
“And don’t try anything stupid.”
He closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with the dress and my thoughts.
***
Damien
Of all the days to call, why did my father have to make it today? Right when I had this sexy little thief under my thumb? Right when things were starting to get interesting? For God’s sakes, I didn’t even know her name yet, and here he was interrupting us…
That was just like him. He never did approve of the games I like to play, or of anything else about me, for that matter. No, he was a cold man—all business—and now he wanted to sit down to lunch with me and have, in his words, “an important discussion about your future, young man.”
Fucking great.
I was 33 years old, but to him I’d always be a “young man,” i.e. some punk kid he wished would grow up already and take on some responsibility. Of course, his idea of responsibility and mine were completely different. He wanted me to be like him, and I wanted anything but that.
Anything at all…
And now, he wanted to meet. We hadn’t spoken since the last holiday, whatever that was, and here he was, calling me up, expecting me to drop everything and do his bidding, as usual.
But, did I have a choice? The man still held my financial future hostage, after all. If I didn’t toe the line, he might very well cut me off. He was a big enough asshole to do it, even though I
was
his only son. The bastard.
Well, I’d go, but I wouldn’t drop everything. Not when I still hadn’t figured out how to punish my little wallet snatcher. He’d just have to deal with me bringing a plus one. Besides, it might be a thrill for her. How often did she have lunch at the Country Club?
I chuckled to myself as I picked up the handful of wallets I’d shaken out of her. I flipped through a couple of them, then sighed. I’d have to turn these in to the police no matter what, but maybe I wouldn’t tell them about who took them… maybe.
That all depended on her—my feisty little mystery woman.
The door opened, and a dark head peeked out, blue eyes wide and shy.
“Come on,” I said. “I don’t have all day.”
She scowled at me, a little crinkle appearing above her nose as she did so that made her even cuter, if possible. She came through the doorway, and for a moment, my breath caught in my chest.
She looked absolutely stunning. The little black dress skimmed her body perfectly, highlighting the gentle curve of her hips, her small waist, and those perky tits I’d noticed earlier when her shirt went over her head—round and firm, enough for a handful, and looking good enough to suck on in that low-cut neckline.
She’d done something to her hair, too—maybe stolen some of my product from the bathroom and tamed it a little, pushing it back from that sweet little doll face of hers, making her eyes look even bigger and bluer, if that was even possible.
Her mouth was a pouty little cupid’s bow as I looked her over, and I couldn’t help but chuckle when I saw she still had on a pair of old, dusty combat boots. Somehow, though, she was pulling it off. I smiled, feeling my cock stir in my pants as I looked her over for a moment longer than was really necessary.
“Well, then,” I said. “Someone cleans up very nicely.”
She looked down at the ground, then back up at me, a small smile on her lips. It was gone as soon as I noticed it, replaced by an icy look in the blink of an eye.
“I figured if I was getting kidnapped, I might as well look my best. You know, for when we end up on TV.”
“No one’s kidnapping anyone,” I said, grinning at this funny, strange little thing standing before me. “But we’ll have to move it if we’re going to make our lunch reservation.”
“Our…
what
?”
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand and tugging her along with me. “No time to waste.”
She looked longingly at the wallets I had stacked on the coffee table, then back at me.
“What are you gonna do with them? With me?”
“The wallets? Turn them over to the police, of course,” I said, ushering her out the door and into the hallway. “As for you, I haven’t decided yet.”
I grinned at the shocked look on her face, pulling her along to the elevator.
“You can’t just keep me!”
“Oh, yes, I can,” I said, smiling to myself.
She shook her head, her mouth agape, jogging to keep up with my long strides.
“You’re awfully used to getting your way, aren’t you?” she said, sounding exasperated. “Doesn’t anyone ever say ‘No’ to you, Mister Bigshot?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’m Damien Black.”
The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside. The little thief shut her mouth, seemingly at a loss for words. It was only then that the thought dawned on me: she didn’t know who I was!
She didn’t have time to go through my wallet after all, because I’d caught up to her so quickly, and her she was, utterly nonplussed next to me, looking up at me with scared eyes as if she just saw a ghost.
I almost laughed, then, at the absurdity of it.
Out of all the people in the city, she takes
my
wallet, and is just now realizing what a fucking terrible mess she’s gotten herself into. After all, the Blacks run this city, are friends with the mayor and his wife, as well as the chief of police. She might as well have stolen the President’s wallet and expected to get away scot-free.