𝐓𝐖𝐎.

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SHE JUMPED IN SURPRISE AT the slam of the door behind her. Her cheeks heated with blush, scattering across her face as she pushes her hair from her face. She was annoyed with herself for allowing such a vulnerable predicament. She kept a close eye on the back of the man's head, skeptical of his intentions. She wasn't an easy target, after all she was only tipsy now, the trek it took to get here had sobered her up quickly. 

She figured that he found out some things about her. She'd seen it before. As men always do, they snoop around searching for the best opportunity to pounce and get their way. He must be some self-proclaimed businessman looking for a way in. Given the way he was at the races, he was much like a ram, barreling head first to try and get to the top.  

She wasn't going to be the one to give him that but she would humor him. He led her through the house, headed for the office. Tommy glanced back at her. He thought she was peculiar, it took a lot of convincing for her to even look at him after he spoke to her. She was too stubborn and headstrong for her own good. It was irritating to him to say the least. She refused him until he gave her an ultimatum. 

"You're taking advantage of me, Mr. Shelby." she accused him. There was no elegance to her words when she spoke to him. She'd been vulgar, her rough accent becoming even more unbearable as she threatened to kill him should he try anything funny. 

He had to roll his eyes at that. "Only trying to help, Ms. Belmont."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her red lips created a small pout. She wasn't going to fold for an aspiring business man who didn't know what it took to run a fucking business. Or at least that's what her stupid family would say. 

He watched her as she tried to pull her foot out of the mud. She complained a lot, he noticed. A string of curses followed as she finally took her boot back. She glanced up at him, a look of disgust on her face. 

Sort of amusing, he found. He studied her tipsy state and hummed. 

She lifted her head, tilting it upward to the cloudy night.  Every once in a while moonlight would break the clouds and shine especially on her moistened skin. His eyes would shift, up to her face that was just as mesmerizing. A beautiful woman indeed but nothing he would ever imagine would be so powerful. 

She would then meet his eyes, mischief sparkling as she refused his offer once more. "I don't think I want to listen to what you have to say." 

And with that, she turned again, making great strides to break away from his line of sight. But he reached for her, taking her arm and pulling her back gently. She slammed into his chest, her drunken state becoming her enemy as she lost her footing and slid down against him. She held onto him tightly, hating herself for appearing as a damsel in distress much like a motion picture she seen once, exaggerated and obvious.

"You know, if you continue to wander these streets, you're only putting a target on your back." She looked up at him, her chest puffed out, and her hands closed into a fist. She fixed her stance, pushing him away from her with an angry glare.

Now, she was sitting in a chair, watching him work his way around his desk, sitting across from her, a smug look on his face. She'd like to wipe that look off his face, she thought. 

He studied her, much like an investigator would, and she was the suspect.

She shifted in her seat, making herself comfortable and challenged his stare. She remembered back to a time when she'd been taught what to do in that situation. 

She was an expert at making a man crumble to his knees by the time she was twenty using the technique taught to her. A technique that was supposed to be used on enemies. One she learned from a man she met while she was in college. His name was  Luca Changretta. In one of their many "dates" he told her what to do if she ever found herself in this situation.  

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋,   𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲.Where stories live. Discover now