Chapter 6
CALISTA
There’s nothing I hate more than a blonde prince.
Delicate and pale, a man’s hair should be a reflection of their soul, not a fucking charcuterie board. The darker the better is what I always say because at least then you know their intentions going in.
I don’t think I’ve seen hair darker than Christopher Deville’s.
Nobody would fool themselves into thinking that man is a prince. All scruff and shaggy hair, one look at the British bad boy tells you everything you need to know.
Here for a good time. Not a long time.
The only permanence a man like him will ever know is the ink covering his body.
Dripping from his neck to the tips of his knuckles, Christopher is a walking montage of bad decisions and even bigger regrets.
Wanted in nearly every European country for theft and fraud, he’s got the skillset daddies warn their little girls about.
And just the one I need.
“What do you think?”
I direct the question to Vector Vin, my latest recruit. He’s a brawn in training, my newfound muscle after the last one went up in flames.
Well, his daddy did anyways.
“Of the new guy?”
I nod slowly, still not entirely sure where Vector’s brain capacity lies. He’s grumpier than my last brawn, bit of a dick with an attitude who doesn’t mind making it clear he would rather be anywhere but here.
I like him more than Gus already.
“He’s going to rob you blind.” His lips tilt up in a smirk, “Besides that, I think he’d make a good Ken doll.”
“Mm, you two would make a cute couple.”
The blonde Hulk bristles beside me, his inflated ego learning the hard way that I don’t tolerate disrespect.
Especially not from men.
“Not what I meant.” Grumbling under his breath, Vector turns and watches Christopher make his way through the crowd.
All strut and stride, the latest transplant weaves through the college parking lot like he owns the place. Confident and cocksure, Christopher walks like a man who needs to be bumped down a peg or two.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
An incoming call lights up my phone, the name of my longtime conspirer flashing across the screen.
“Christopher Deville is going to be a problem.”
“So lovely to hear from you today, Marlin.” I coo the words, knowing full well the exasperated expression they will leave on his face.
A man of high judgement and even higher taste, Marlin Seaborn is an asset that has been well worth the cost of doing business. He is the equivalent of a human algorithm, all numbers and data in lieu of genuine emotions.
Marlin is not what you would call a prince, but he doesn’t exactly fall into the bad boy category either. He’s more of a… unique character, shall we say.
A little psychotic, a lot narcissistic, and has a terrible tendency to stab anyone who touches his most prized possession.
The last one makes for the most entertaining of evenings.
Ignoring my pleasantries, Marlin cuts straight to the chase, “Did you look at the report I sent over?”
“I did.” Putting him on speaker, I open up the report in question, “And I fail to see how this makes Christopher a problem. I thought we agreed he’s got the skillset we need.”
“I managed to hack into his system and found a copy of the blueprints he’s carrying around.” He pauses, “Drache Manor isn’t the only house on the list.”
“So, we’ve got ourselves an ambitious thief. That’s exactly what we need.”
“He’s going to build a crew.”
Silence falls between us.
“Who.”
“That’s what I don’t know. Hence the problem at hand.” Marlin sighs, as if my question made the situation ten times worse, “It will have to be someone on the outskirts. No one else would dare to steal from the Dragon. Especially not after-
“The Cartier family turned to ash.”
“Precisely.”
I muse over the information, watching the thief in question stop and chat with a few people idling around his car. He smiles and laughs with ease, making friends and connections as easily as most men lie and cheat.
Interesting.
“Is he starting from the top or working his way up?” Glancing over at Vector, I find him scrolling mindlessly in my passenger seat.
“From the reports I’ve read, Deville is a gambler. He likes to hit big and leave before the chaos ensues. Think smash and grab but on a much larger scale.”
“How long is he planning on staying?”
“His mother bought the Cartier Mansion and renovations are already underway. In any other instance, I would say he’s going for the Drache Manor first and leaving the rest to chance.”
Marlin pauses, giving me the chance to finish his thought.
“Because he’s got a home base, he’ll be spreading this one out.
Hitting the smaller houses and working his way up to the big prize.
” Running a red fingernail over my steering wheel, I tap it thoughtfully, “The council members will be the last on the list. He’ll hit them all within a span of a few days, if not a single night. Be gone by morning.”
“Never to be seen again.” Amusement bleeds through Marlin’s voice.
He’s always loved a good storytelling.
“Vector.”
Pale blue eyes swing in my direction. I offer him a sweet smile, one that has his pretty eyes narrowing, “Give us your take on the situation. How would you approach it?”
Silence falls along the line, Marlin’s surprise echoing loud and clear. Our last brawn had no use besides dismantling physical disputes, and even then, he often came up lacking.
But there’s something about the angry lacrosse player that makes me think he’s got a little bit more potential.
“Control the narrative.” At my curious stare, Vector’s broad shoulders lift in a shrug, “You’re wondering what house he’s going to hit first, right? Make the choice for him.”
“And how do you suppose we do that?”
“Do I look like a plan maker to you? Ask the suit for an execution strategy. He’s got more than enough ideas to go around.”
It’s risky, having a man like Vector Vin as a pawn. His drug use alone makes him unpredictable, and once you throw in the anger management, there’s a list of reasons why the beast should have stayed in a holding cell instead of relocating to Wolf Hollow.
He’s a man looking for a fight. A battered soul ready to take on the world.
Most people don’t understand the motive behind a person like that.
But I do.
“Did he just call me a suit?”
A snicker falls from my mouth, “A rather adequate description, don’t you think?”
Marlin makes a noncommittal noise while Vector goes back to playing on his phone.
“We’ve got our plan then. Marlin, I need you to deliver a message to your mother. She’s been unexpectedly called out of town for a business opportunity and will not be in Wolf Hollow for the foreseeable future.”
“Given the inaccessibility to the oceanfront, my mother’s house is one of the last ones on the list. A simple vacation will not sway our thief to abandon his entire plan.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
With that, I hang up my phone and turn to the second part of my plan.
“Vector, my big strong boy.” A purr seeps into my voice, “Are you ready to start your initiation?”
He eyes me wearily before glancing out the windshield.
“Ken doll is going to be tougher than you think. I might not be able to break him.”
“When it comes to Christopher Deville, leave the breaking to me.” A malicious grin splits my lips, the edge of my blade teasing the delicate skin of my wrist, “But for now, I think it’s time to introduce you to town. How do you feel about partying on a school night?”
A spark of interest hits Vector’s eyes for the first time.
“What happened to controlling the narrative?”
Leaning over the console, I scrape a claw against the blonde scruff along his jaw. My red fingernails dance across his spotted skin, triggering a bout of tension to ripple through his inflated muscles.
“The thing about women, Vector, is we’re able to focus on multiple things at once.” I brush my lips against his neck twice before the discomfort bleeds through his expression, “Unlike men who get distracted by the simplest of things.”
“You’re not my type.”
“I didn’t ask if I was.” Pressing my tongue flat against his skin, I lick a treasure trail up his neck, “But I bet we can find somebody who is.”
That gets his interest.
“Who?”
“Mm, you’ll have to wait and see.” Settling myself back down in my seat, I watch Vector wipe off my saliva with a smirk, “Think it’s time we took control of the narrative, don’t you?”
It must hurt, coming to the realization that you belong to the simpler, over-estimated species. Based on the scowl marking Vector’s face, I’d say it hurts a lot.
Poor boy is in for a rude awakening.
And he’s not the only one.