Page 35 of Scarlett Thief (Criminal Underground 2)

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Scarlett

Istrode into the Grand Hotel Palace dressed in a pair of black slacks and a silky white button down. An average person might not see the importance of what a person wore, but the simple matter of it was clothes mattered. Clothes were a tool to be used. While I was currently dressed like an upper class woman of means, I knew that in a few short minutes I could change my entire look—ditch the slacks or cut them up to my asscheeks, tie my hundred dollar shirt beneath my breasts and change my make-up and I'd look like a completely different person.

Clothes were an asset to a person like me. Clothes could make me seen or make me invisible, and as I walked through the lobby of the Grand Hotel Palace, what I wore today allowed me to blend into the background. I kept my shoulders back and my spine straightened as I strode past the front desk and made my way to the elevators I knew would be on the left hand side, all while counting cameras, exits and entrances, stair access, and any other potentially important detail. Better to be overly prepared than not prepared enough.

"The laundry facilities and storage rooms should be in the basement." Hadrian's voice was in my ear as I stepped inside the elevator and glanced over the rows of buttons that led to each floor. Ten to be exact. I pressed the one that would take me down to the rooms he’d rattled off from his position in the van. I glanced up to the planted camera in the corner of the small space.

"Yes, that's right, doll, I can see you just fine. Smile for me, pretty girl." And smile I did, while flashing my middle finger at the asshole as well. "Oof, someone's feeling bratty today."

"Shut it," I muttered. "We have a job to do. Remember that."

"Oh, I remember it just fine. You're the one who seems to have forgotten. Or did you not realize that I'm not the only one who can see that camera, beautiful."

I stiffened, shooting a look back to the camera. Fuck. He was right. I'd totally blanked. Shit. I never did that. These men were throwing me off my game. I took a deep breath and released it. "I know what I'm doing," I said, forcing the words out.

"Oh, yeah?" There was no denying the challenge in his tone, but hell, half of the time he sounded as though he were throwing down a challenge. "Prove it."

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out into a hallway that was much less aesthetically pleasing than the upper floors. "How?" I whispered. The hallway was long and empty. I chose a side and started walking. Even as quiet as my heels were, the sound echoed up the walls.

"You're a professional," he said. "I'm a professional. Let's make a little wager."

As I came across another camera, I lifted my head and arched a brow. Anyone else watching wouldn't think anything of it. He chuckled in my ear, the sound deep and vibrating. I faltered in my steps and reached out a hand to the wall, leaning down to adjust the strap of my shoe that didn't need adjusting.

"I want you to get away from me," he said. "If you can lose me on this map of cameras I've got set up—for five minutes minimum—then you win."

"What do I win?" I whispered, keeping my head down as I finished "fixing" my heel strap.

"What do you want, Princess?"

I froze. What did I want? I wanted to not be here. I wanted to take back control of my life again. Before I could answer, he began talking again.

"How about this," he suggested. "I'll leave it open—with the stipulation of it being sexual."

"Sexual?" I repeated the word and somehow, I wasn't surprised. I'd seen the way he looked at me. I wasn't unused to it. The heat in his gaze wasn't nearly as overpowering as Wolf's, but it was no less challenging, no less dominant.

They were both alpha men in their own ways—so very different, though, in their approach. I expected Wolf would want to physically move me around himself—commanding me with his body, but Hadrian seemed the type to make me do it. He would stand back and watch me undress, voicing his orders as I worked to make his fantasies come to life.

I shook my head. No. I needed to stop thinking about that. Getting sexually involved with either of them was wrong—and so very risky in the face of how important this job was to each of us. I opened my mouth to tell him just that, to deny him this stupid bet.

"Or are you scared, Princess?"

My lips snapped shut. "I'm not scared," I said tersely. I lowered my foot and started forward once more, my gait stiffer as irritation flooded me.

"Then you accept?" he asked. "You’ll earn one sexual favor from me. Favor to be determined at a later date … that is if you can lose me for five minutes, and if not then you owe me."

"And if I want you to submit to me?" I challenged him, thinking he would never agree to something like that.

"If you win," he said easily, his tone calm and even somewhat amused. He always sounded amused, almost as if there was some universal joke about the world that only he knew and he was keeping the punch line to himself. "You can request anything you want. Oh, but we should put a time frame on this. You only have the next hour. Wouldn't want to waste too much time on this little recon mission of ours. We do need to get back before dark."

I pressed my lips together. It was too fucking good to pass up. "Fine," I said. "Start the clock." I turned a corner and saw a double set of doors at the end of the hallway, so I picked up the pace. "Oh, and Hadrian? When I win, I'll expect my winnings on your knees." My lips curved into a smile.

He laughed. "So confident. Don't worry, Princess, even if you don't win, I'll get on my knees for you. Though if that’s the case and you lose, you might be pleased with your position. I'd like to see those pretty thighs of yours spread for my crop sooner rather than later. Let's do this. The clock's started. Good luck."

I wouldn't need luck. It was clear that Hadrian—like many men before him—underestimated my abilities. The doors opened as a woman pulling a large laundry cart pushed through with her back to me. I slipped around her and disappeared into the entrance. Heat slapped me in the face, but I didn't flinch.

I moved through a large laundry facility—half a dozen industrial sized washers and dryers lined the room on both sides, and in the middle was a metal table with two women in maid uniforms folding sheets. They glanced up as I passed by, their heads moving in my periphery, but I didn’t spare them any attention. I kept my head up and my gaze focused forward.

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