His Pretty Little Thief Read online

  HIS PRETTY LITTLE THIEF

  MADISON FAYE

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Also by Madison Faye

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright © 2019 Madison Faye

  Cover: Coverlüv

  Photography: Wander Aguiar

  Models: Wayne Skivington & Ekatherina

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  1

  KNOX

  SHE’S MINE, she just doesn’t know it yet. In a way, it’s cute, watching her in that slinky red dress across the club, sitting in the shadows pretending she’s not studying my every move. It’s adorable that she’s not aware that I see her, and see what she’s doing, and know exactly what she’s up to.

  It’s cute watching her watching me, thinking it’s her who’s the hunter, and me the prey. When the reality is, it couldn’t be more opposite.

  She pushes her long, long blonde hair away from those baby-blue eyes and pouty fuck-me lips and takes a sip of her drink—a mojito, virgin.

  …How appropriate.

  It’s not a mystery how a girl her age is in a club like this. She’s not twenty-one, of course, but this is one of the most exclusive new nightclubs in Manhattan, and she’s fucking gorgeous. No shit she got in without an ID. She glances my way again, her eyes eager and inquisitive, and just like I have the other hundred or more times she’s done this over the last five nights, I casually and seamlessly avert my gaze.

  I play the prey, like I’ve been doing all week with her. It’s a game, and it’s amusing to me, but like all games, it has an end. And this one’s end is coming soon. Tomorrow, actually. Tomorrow, she’ll make her move, and then I’ll make mine, and she’ll see just how pre-ordained this little game of seduction chess really is.

  She thought this would be easy. She thought I would be easy. But it won’t be, and I’m not. She’s here, watching me, because she wants something. Because there’s something of mine she’s after, and tomorrow, she plans on coming for it, and taking it from me. A pretty, pretty little thief. Except, tomorrow, the thief becomes the thieved. The hunter becomes the hunted. And I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching her drum up her courage and steel her resolve over the last five nights as she’s watched me here, knowing how tomorrow is going to flip on her.

  She thinks she’s playing me.

  …She’s wrong.

  Tomorrow, Simone Delphine is going to come for what she’s after. But first, she’s going to come for me. First, she’s going to understand how ensnared she already is. How hook, line, and sunk she already is. How mine she already is. The wait is almost unbearable, and the pulsing thickness growing harder and harder between my thighs makes me groan. The idea of waiting even another second to touch her, and claim her, and taste her is a marathon. Waiting another whole day an eternity.

  But I’ve come this far, and come this close to having what’s mine, and I know I can wait one more damn night. One more night, before she’s all mine.

  Come and play, little thief, I think to myself, raising my glass in a subtle toast her way while her gaze is averted for a moment.

  Come and play, so I can play with YOU.

  2

  SIMONE

  One week earlier:

  “WAIT, you can’t be serious.”

  I stare at Bianca, my jaw halfway to the floor to join the purse I’ve just dropped there. In front of me, standing right outside what only this morning was her thrifty but fully furnished room in our tiny two-bedroom Hell’s Kitchen apartment, is my roommate and three brand new suitcases. The bags are all Coach, and her clothes are better than anything I’ve ever seen her wear before. Oh, and the aforementioned room is bare down to the stained walls and worn-down hardwood floor.

  “Look, Simone, its just—”

  “You’re moving?”

  I blink, shaking my head as I try and process what she’s just said when I walked in to find her like this. My feet are killing me from my shitty job at the coffee bar, the fresh burn on my thumb from the shitty espresso machine throbbing under the Band-Aid I’ve slapped over it. It’s been a shit day, in a shit month, and coming home to find that my roommate and only friend since I moved here is moving out is pretty much the cherry on top of a shit-flavored ice-cream sundae.

  “Where?”

  She bites her lip, her eyes darting around nervously. “I, uh, I got a new place, and the move-in date is today.”

  “I’m really confused here,” I say slowly, frowning at her. “You were totally broke, like, a month ago.”

  Ever since I moved to New York and met her, Bianca’s been as paycheck-to-paycheck as me. Actually, a month ago she was more than broke, and I had to cover a portion of her rent. And here we are, a matter of weeks later, and not only is she moving out, but she’s dressed in top-of-the-line fashion and packing her stuff into thousand-dollar suitcases.

  “Simone,” she smiles wryly, pushing her dark brown hair out of her face. “I know it’s sudden, but I’m not just leaving you hanging, I swear. There’s a check on the fridge for four months’ rent and utilities, plus what I owe you from last month.”

  My brows arch somehow even higher than they already are.

  “But you were broke,” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

  “I was,” she says quietly.

  “Did you win the lottery or something?”

  She bites her lip. “No…”

  “Bianca—”

  “I can’t really talk about it, okay?” She swallows, dropping her eyes away from mine.

  “It’s just this new job.”

  My brows knit. “A new job that you can’t tell me about?”

  She blushes, looking at what look like brand new Louboutins on her feet.

  “Bianca, come on! What’s with all the secrecy?”

  She swallows thickly, the heat booming on her face as she looks back up at me, almost shyly.”

  “Simone—”

  I shake my head. “Were you seriously just going to leave while I was at work?”

  Her lips twist. “Maybe?”

  I groan. “Dude, what’s your deal?”

  Bianco groans, her shoulders slumping. I watch the battle twist inside of her before she finally takes a deep breath and looks at me with a blush on her cheeks.

  “Okay, this is a total secret, okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, of course.”

  She swallows. “Okay, there’s this… organization, or company or something. They call themselves The Agency. And, I’m kind of working for them.”

  I frown. “Okay. So, why is this a secret?”

  She looks away, and my frown deepens.

  “Bianca, is this place safe? I mean, is the work legal?”

  She starts to nod eagerly but stops herself.

  “Um…”

  My jaw drops again.

>   “Bianca! What the hell are you mixed up in?”

  “Okay! Okay!” she groans. “Look, it’s not drugs are anything like that. And it’s probably at least half legal.”

  “Bianca,” I mutter. “What is the job?”

  She blushes, looking away and playing with her cuticles for a minute before her shoulders slump.

  “Okay, I’m going to tell you this, but I can’t even begin to stress how important it is that it stays secret. I’m serious, Bianca. I could get in a lot of trouble for even talking about it.

  I nod, and she looks away.

  “Okay, you’ve heard of a sperm bank, right?”

  My nose wrinkles. “I guess I have? You mean the places people go when they can’t conceive naturally.”

  Bianca nods. “Well, The Agency is kind of like that.”

  I make a face. “You’re working at a sperm bank?”

  She bites her lip. “Not exactly. Okay, so at a regular sperm bank, as long as you don’t have some terrible disease or horrible family medical history, and aren’t on drugs or something, you’re good to go. But that means any guy can just walk in off the streets and… you know. Well, The Agency is like a sperm bank but crazy expensive and exclusive. It’s for people who want a sperm donor, but don’t want any old guy with a decent education and looks. People who want and can afford the best.”

  I frown. “And who’s the best?”

  She chews on her lip. “The elite. The wealthy CEOs who also won the gene pool in the looks department. Royalty. Sports stars, movie stars—that kind of thing.”

  “Hang on, rich celebrities don’t donate their sperm to sperm banks, even exclusive ones.”

  Bianca bites her lip. “Yeah, well…” She smiles weakly at me.

  “Maybe not knowingly, they don’t.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Bianca scuffs at the floor nervously as she avoids my eyes. “You know what, never mind It’s hard to exp—”

  “Bianca.”

  My friend groans, looking flustered. “Okay, Simone, you cannot tell a single freaking person, okay? I mean it. Seriously.”

  “Okay! Jeez, I get it. So, tell me exactly what this new job is that’s turned you into a glamour queen.”

  She sighs heavily one last time before she looks up, her eyes meeting mine.

  “People will pay a crazy amount of money for the sperm of super attractive, and insanely rich So, you dress up, you go out with these guys, and then… you know, later…”

  I frown. “Should I know what you’re talking about?”

  Bianca groans. “Okay, later, aaaafter…” she wags her brows at my knowingly. “You collect it.”

  My face goes blank. “Wait, what?”

  “The Agency give us these really high-tech little vials. So, you just need to keep it relatively warm and get back to The Agency within an hour or so. But it’s really not that—”

  “Bianca!” I hiss, my eyes wide and my face red. “That is so fucking gross on so many levels!”

  “No, Simone, it’s not…” her lips twist. “It’s not what you think.”

  “It kind of sounds a lot like I think.”

  “Look, first of all, it’s my choice. And secondly, the guys are all insanely good looking, Simone. Gorgeous, really.” She makes a face. “I mean, no one wants ugly-guy DNA, right? And like I said, they give you these really high-tech containers for you to sneak out some of the guys’… you know.”

  I make a face. “Jizz?”

  Bianca snorts. “Yeah.”

  I slowly shake my head. “This is what you’ve been doing? You said it was ‘half legal’. There is no freaking way any of that is legal, Bianca. I can’t believe that this is what—”

  “Hey, knock off with the judgement bullshit, okay?” she mutters testily. “Like I said, this is my choice. And you know I like to go out and like to have fun with guys anyways. Unlike some people,” she mutters under her breath, looking right at me.

  “I like to have fun!”

  “Says the virgin.”

  I scowl at her.

  “So how many times have you done this?”

  Bianca blushes and looks away.

  “Bianca…”

  “Three,” she says quietly.

  I blink, trying to take this all in as we just stare at each other across the tiny, crappy living room-slash-kitchen.

  “Simone—”

  “Look, I’m not judging—”

  “You kind of are.”

  My mouth twists. “Sorry,” I say quietly. “Maybe I am a little.”

  “Look, it’s not the job I was looking for, but they approached me, and it pays insanely well. Like, ridiculously well.”

  “How ridiculous?”

  “One-hundred-thousand a job.”

  This time, my jaw pretty much does hit the floor.

  “What?!”

  Bianca’s phone—a brand new, very fancy one, I notice—dings loudly, and she looks down.

  “Oh, fuck, my Uber is here.”

  “I mean, can you wait?”

  She twists her lips, pouting. “I have a… uh… I have something later.”

  “Work?” I say flatly.

  “A date, yeah. Look, I’m really sorry to just cut out like this, Simone. There’s… well, there’s more to it than what I can really get into right now. I promise, we’ll catch up soon. This weekend?”

  “Yeah, uh, yeah…” I mumble.

  Simone shoulders two of her new bags and grabs the handle on the wheel-y one before she heads past me for the door.

  “This weekend, for sure.”

  I just nod, still blinking and trying to process everything, when I hear her call my name from behind me, on the stairway landing.

  “Simone.”

  I turn, and Bianca takes a deep breath before she puts her hand out and passes me this little black business card with metallic red-gold lettering.

  “I’m only allowed to refer one friend, and they have to vet you first. And I know you’re… you know… inexperienced, but the money is crazy, crazy good. If you want to try it out and stop working at that fucking coffee shop you hate so much, give the number on that card a call, and mention me.”

  “Oh, Bianca, I… I don’t know.”

  “Then don’t call it,” she says with a small shrug before she grabs her bags again.

  “I really do have to run, but let’s for real catch up this weekend and I’ll try and give you more information.”

  I swallow, nodding slowly as my pulse skips a little bit inside.

  “Think about it though, okay?”

  “I’ll… yeah. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

  3

  SIMONE

  TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT. I’ve been coming to this club all week—eyeing him, watching him, studying him. “Recon,” The Agency calls it, and it’s part of the job.

  …The job, despite every single voice inside of me screaming no, I took. I’m not even totally sure why, though the money was certainly a big part of it. I mean, even with Bianca’s check for a few months’ rent—plus way more than she owed me, which was so incredibly generous, I’m still in a hole.

  New York City for me was my ticket out of the shit-show that was my life before. Louisiana seems like a million years ago, even if it’s only been six months at this point. But I graduated high school, went directly home from the ceremony, grabbed the bag I already had packed, walked six miles to the bus station, and I have zero plans on looking back.

  The details aren’t important. My life was always basically the most tear-jerker of a country song you’ve ever heard, but real. Drunk and strung out mom, and a dad who’d mastered the disappearing and reappearing when he needed money act by the time I was five. Jack, my older brother by ten years, was always my hero, but then he went and played hero in Afghanistan when I was twelve and never did make it back.

  So, for six more years, I just fought to survive, and when it was time to go, trust me, it was time to go. Why New York? Honestly, who knows. M
aybe it was the glamor of it all—the lights, the glitz, the whole “city that never sleeps” thing. The goal was, make some money and eventually go to fashion school. And of course, in my fantasy, I’d simply go on to become the biggest thing in women’s fashion since Coco met Chanel. After all, if you can make it in New York City, you can make it anywhere, as they say.

  But then, of course, reality set it. And the reality was that New York was dirty, mean, cold, and fucking expensive. Finding Bianca through a roommate wanted sign at my coffee shop job was a miracle, but even still, forget putting money away for fashion school.

  So, okay, yeah, “money” was maybe one of the biggest reasons I finally called the number on the card Bianca gave me. But after money, it was the intrigue, and this sexy, illicit sort of danger that came with the offer. But whatever it was, here I am—eyeing him, and watching him, like I’ve been doing all week. Because tonight, I’m making my move.

  The Agency has a dossier on him, but I’m here to figure him out, figure out his habits, and figure out how to seduce him.

  Right, me. I think I might need a college course, three text books, and a tutor or five to pull that whole “seduction” thing off, and it would still take me a year to get it down. I mean the idea of me being this tempting seductress to a freaking billionaire is laughable. And I even thought about saying it in the interview with the people at The Agency, but I held my tongue. I mean what the hell do I know about seducing a man? Not to mention literally anything that comes after that? Bianca wasn’t wrong, I’ve never done a thing with a guy.

  But then, I’m… different now. After The Agency interview, and after they accepted me, it was straight into their little “re-create Simone” factory. A new haircut, plucked brows, then shaved, trimmed, waxed, and moisturized all over. A crash course in smoky makeup that I’ve never worn. All week, I’ve been wearing incredible clothes I could never afford before, and I’ve been hanging out at a club with drinks that cost as much as two or three days of my normal food budget.

  I feel the club music thump through me as I take a sip of the virgin mojito in my hands. The Agency got me into the club no problem, even with my being eighteen. But I’m not drinking. I mean I’ve barely drank before, and the night where I’m supposed to, well, do what I’m supposed to do, with him doesn’t sound like the best night to try being inebriated too.