Finders Keepers_An Enemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Kara Chase

  “What the fuck is all this?” he finally asks me, waving one hand at all the pink.

  He’s lucky I didn’t have the time to hire someone to paint all the walls pink, or else we’d both have to wear sunglasses inside the apartment just so we could survive the glare.

  “Don’t like it?” I reply, walking toward him with a defiant strut. “I just moved my stuff in last night.”

  I know I don’t need to sway my hips in such a sexy manner, but what the hell—let me have my fun.

  I love driving men like Lucian insane. And I’m very, very good at it.

  “I just moved my stuff in last night.”

  “I can see that,” he whispers, and I know that he’s making quite the effort to stop his eyes from wandering down my body.

  “Now, the way I see it, Lucien, we can make some room for your stuff—or you can move out.”

  “Move out?” he snarls, the expression on his face hardening in a fraction of a second.

  Judging by his reaction, you’d think I’ve just told him to do a somersault out the window. Lucien Parker might be an asshole, but he’s the kind of asshole that doesn’t give up on what he wants.

  “Vivian,” he continues, lowering his voice and taking one step toward me.

  He’s so tall that he towers over me, and I can’t help but feel slightly intimidated by his steely gaze.

  What the hell, right? Me, intimidated?

  I’ll never admit this outright to him or to anyone, but god—this man has an effect on me that I’ve never encountered before.

  “Mark my words,” he says. “I will never fucking move out of this apartment. Got it?”

  For a moment, I don’t even respond. I just take in the sight of the man in front of me, his calm but focused words making my heart thump harder.

  I’ve heard of Lucien Parker way before I even met him—and who hasn’t, really? I’ve been this close to him before, back when we had our agents explain this mess for us. I still remember how it felt, having his lips all over my neck...

  Who would think that it’d feel this good?

  Broad shoulders, cocky smile, and I swear I can almost see the contour of his abs under his tailored shirt. Even his gaze seems to be magnetic.

  But there are countless men like this one, aren’t there?

  Pretty boy toys, swarming the bars and looking for a quick lay. We all met a few guys like those, haven’t we?

  The thing is, there’s something different about Lucien. Something to do with his I’ll-fucking-do-it-my-way attitude. He has the right kind of attitude, and he isn’t taking it.

  Lucien Parker is a man’s man.

  I can’t believe I’m going to say this, not when I thought I’ve had him cornered and out my life…but I’m so fucking wet right now.

  Seriously, this doesn’t happen often. It takes someone really special to leave me this wet—and Lucien’s already proven himself up to par ever since I met him.

  Sure, I’m the kind of woman who loves to have sex—but right now, I’m so crazy and horny that I could just claw at his shirt and destroy his clothes, right here, right now. Lucky for him, I’m also the kind of woman that knows how to apply some self-restraint.

  At least most of the times.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asks me, and only now do I realize I’ve just been staring at him like some psycho.

  “Fair enough,” he grins, and then turns to the movers and waves them in.

  Like a well-organized platoon, more than a dozen guys barge inside the penthouse, every single one of them carrying a box. They keep at it for what seems like an eternity, and I simply contemplate the inordinate amount of shit Lucien has brought.

  Luckily, the penthouse is big enough to house everything we have. Besides, this is just a temporary solution; sooner or later, he’s going to pack up and leave.

  I got to give it to Lucien, though: the man sure has some taste. Unlike my pink-maneuver, the douchebag has brought his actual stuff.

  Dark leather sofas. Heavy bookshelves of the most expensive wood. The most intricate wet bar I’ve ever seen, one granted to give a headache to the workers in charge of its assembly.

  Even the bottles and whiskey decanters seem to have been chosen carefully—and no, I’m not saying they’re just expensive.

  Well, they sure do look like it, but what I’m getting at is that Lucien seems to be the kind of guy whose taste goes beyond a mere price tag.

  He knows what he likes, and he knows what he wants. Trust me, despite what most men say, that’s not a quality you’ll find that often...and yes, I do know what I’m talking about.

  “Who’s that?” I ask Lucien as he directs one of the workers, a young guy busy hanging a portrait on the wall.

  It’s an oil painting of a man in his forties, his features reminding me of the man standing right next to me.

  “My father,” Lucien replies casually, and then he’s back to barking orders at the movers.

  “These are the final ones,” one of Lucien’s henchmen grunts as he drags a cart with two large boxes on top of it inside the living room.

  Wiping the sweat off his brow, he then grabs a box cutter and starts cutting through the plastic tape.

  With an infuriating grin on his face, Lucien casually walks toward the mover, and I can’t help but follow right behind him.

  Why is the asshole grinning so much about what’s inside these boxes?

  Maybe the porn collection from his teenage years?

  “Curious, are you?” he asks me as he takes the place of the guy opening the boxes and starts doing it himself.

  “I’m not the kind of woman to get curious over anything, Lucien,” I tell him, but whatever it was I was planning on saying dies on my throat the moment I make up what’s inside these boxes.

  Holy fucking shit. Now this is something I definitely wasn’t expecting.

  “Doesn’t look like it, you know?” Lucien tells me, taking a step back and looking at me with that damned cocky smile of his.

  Shit, okay, I’m surprised; but if you saw what’s inside of those boxes, you’d be surprised as well.

  Yeah, you’re curious now too, aren’t you?

  Let’s just say that between the bed restraints and the sex swing, my eyes don’t exactly know where they should land.

  Jesus—did Lucien want this apartment to live in or to transform it in a sex dungeon? Because judging from the amount of toys and BDSM stuff inside those boxes, I’m not so sure anymore.

  And you know what?

  That just made me even wetter.

  To make it all worse, the damned asshole just leans into me and puts his lips to my ear.

  “You might have covered this living room in pink, but one thing’s a fucking certainty: this apartment is going to have a red room of pain, baby.”

  My heart is racing, my knees are buckling.

  And my pussy is on fire.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucien

  I swear I’m looking at her and wondering when she’s gonna crack.

  I mean, I know I look good. I know I’m the exact kind of guy that will turn a woman’s knees to jelly.

  So when I look someone in the eyes and tell someone that I’m bringing my own Red Room of Pain to the shared apartment that we’re in, I’m expecting that it’s going to do some damage. And to be fair, I know it is.

  I mean, my senses are fucking heightened around this woman. She’s fucking gorgeous, and I can smell her pussy as it gushes out and wets her panties.

  She wants to get all up on me. She wants to rub herself against my body. Then she wants to turn around and rub that luscious ass against my hard fucking cock.

  I bet she wants me to grab her by the hair and pull her neck back again, like I did before. To rub my hands up and down her back and rest it right over her ass. To pull my hand back and spank her as I tug at her hair.

  Vivian leans closer to me.

  This is fucking it.

  I can smell the shampoo in her hair. I
t smells like strawberries.

  Hell, her fucking body smells like a goddamn cookie. I bet she uses that Purity shit from Sephora. Probably makes her pussy smell like a fucking pastry.

  Well that’s good, right? Because in just a few moments, I’m going to dive into it and eat my fill.

  Her face is an inch away from mine, and my breathing starts to get ragged being this close and controlling myself.

  She looks at me.

  She’s going to tell me she wants me to take her. To have my way with her. To go full on beast mode on her.

  “Lucien,” she whispers breathily.

  “Yeah,” I groan.

  Her eyes are half closed.

  Fuck me.

  Heaven is about to happen.

  “I’m so thrilled I’ve finally met a man who likes to do the spanking instead of getting spanked,” she coos throatily as she pushes herself closer to me.

  Okay. That’s an odd way to start the conversation, but I can dig it.

  I know how this goes. I can get behind that.

  Smack that as she shimmies up and down my pole.

  Vivian rubs her deliciously perky tits against me, and my nuts twist up.

  “But,” she whispers and looks up at me, her eyes now widening, “if you think you’re ever going to spank me, my friend…”

  What the fuck?

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

  Wait.

  What just happened?

  Did she just really fucking say that?

  “Awww….poor baby,” Vivian coos as she pouts at me, as she leans back. “Thought I was going to throw myself at you because little Lucien went out and bought some toys from Good Vibrations?”

  She puts two hands on my chest as I stand there in shock and pushes herself off me.

  “It’s going to take a lot more than that to impress me, babe,” she says as she turns around, beginning to walk way.

  She turns her head back and finishes her sentence. “And quite honestly, I’d give up now rather than keep trying.”

  Fuck me.

  Yeah, I know. Vivian got the point on this match.

  It doesn’t help that she’s sauntering her ass from one side to the other as she walks away. She just had to go wear yoga pants didn’t she?

  I mean, come on, darlin’. She knows just as well as I do that yoga pants are going to make her ass look fucking amazing. Her legs look all toned and long and just fucking sexy.

  Vivian doesn’t need any fucking help in that department, but with the yoga pants, she’d give a fucking priest a hard on with that juicy little ass.

  “Sir?” a voice interrupts me from my stare of the ass that belongs to Vivian.

  I turn to him.

  “Where do you want to put all your stuff?” he asks me as he looks around at the various shades of pink and girl that go around the room.

  “Start putting it…” I start and then trail off.

  I just noticed she’s managed to put everything in a strategic spot.

  But two can play at this game.

  “Put it wherever it can fit that you think would replace the pink,” I tell the man.

  The mover looks at me for a moment and then nods. He’s getting paid for the job and not to ask fucking questions.

  I watch the men start moving the shit from the pile that it sits in in the doorway.

  And I know Vivian can hear them too.

  I know they can hear the deep leather overstuffed sofa being moved into the living room.

  Well, it’s a good thing that she’s not here to see this.

  Because as much as she annoys the fuck out of me, I would never subject anyone to the cringe-worthy look that the room takes on.

  You think I’m lying here?

  Imagine this picture in your head, will you?

  Expansive Park Avenue condo with over three thousand square feet, with a massive entryway and living room.

  So now you put a deep leather overstuffed sofa, and right next to it is a frilly pink loveseat with stuffed animals and a giant ass Hello Kitty pillow.

  A mahogany coffee table, on which sits several books about what to do to keep yourself occupied during your period.

  A mini-humidor next to a pink stuffed rabbit.

  Bottles of expensive scotch next to a rack of Cosmopolitan magazines.

  My father’s portrait next to a picture of a pink heart.

  I’m shaking my head as I see the movers put the shit away. And they’re probably wondering what the fuck is going on as well. I mean they looked at me with respect as they packed up the old place this morning.

  They knew I was a fucking man.

  Now they’re wondering if they thought wrong all this time.

  Only one way that Vivian can make them know for sure, I guess.

  That’s right.

  Music starts coming on.

  “What’s that noise?” one of the movers asks me, and I turn my head.

  Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know.

  That something wasn't right here.

  No.

  “Yo?” another mover asks, wiping sweat from his blue collar brow.

  Oh baby, baby, I shouldn't have let you go.

  And now you're out of sight, yeah.

  That fucking bitch.

  She can’t do this.

  Show me how want it to be.

  Tell me baby 'cause I need to know now, oh because…

  “Dude what kind of sick shit are you moving into, man?” the lead mover asks me as I stand rapt in horror.

  My loneliness is killing me and I,

  I must confess I still believe—still believe!

  This is taking things to a whole new level.

  When I'm not with you I lose my mind,

  Give me a sign.

  Vivian walks out of her room and down the hallway, puts a hand on her hip and smirks at me.

  Hit me baby one more time!

  “Oh yeah,” Vivian says with an evil grin. “I loooove playing Britney Spears in the mornings! I hope you don’t mind.”

  I stand there and realize something.

  This chick is going to be a fucking challenge to defeat.

  “Dude, just give us our fucking money, and we’ll be outta here,” the lead mover tells me.

  I can’t fucking fault him. I want to leave to.

  But that would be fucking losing. And Lucien Parker does not lose.

  Vivian smirks again and walks away as I pay the movers and tip them an extra thousand dollars for their trouble.

  The guy nods to me and shakes my hand in a sign of commiseration as he leaves right before I close the door.

  I know that look.

  It’s the look where you leave your buddy on the battlefield.

  Knowing he’s going to die.

  But not me.

  Not at all.

  In fact, I’m on a mission. I’m going to give Vivian a piece of my mind. I’m going to lay down the law.

  I head to her room. This song is going to stop.

  But as I approach her doorway, it does.

  Silence.

  Gives me a chance to look inside her room.

  And I fucking pause.

  Because there isn’t a hint of pink anywhere.

  Hell, it’s very….elegant.

  This chick isn’t playing fair.

  “What gives?” I growl.

  Vivian turns from the mirror and looks at me innocently.

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “What’s with the room?” I ask, stepping in.

  “This is my bedroom, Lucien,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “I got here first, and I got the master bedroom. You can take the master guest room down the hall.”

  “That room is fucking pink!” I swear. “And this room is—”

  “Mine. And I’ll excuse you to get yourself out of it immediately, thank you,” Vivian cuts me off.

  Look, I’m never going to force myself on a broad.

  I don’t need to.<
br />
  Plus, this isn’t the time.

  I can wait.

  “Fine,” I say. I take a few steps back to the threshold of the room at the doorway, where I can still see in. “I’m leaving.”

  Vivian nudges the door, and it closes towards me.

  As it closes, I can see Vivian turn to the full-length mirror facing away from me.

  I see her in one swoop take off her shirt and expose her back to me.

  And it’s such a sexy fucking back.

  A red bra strap goes across the upper back, and I can just imagine how her lithe body would squirm as I fuck her.

  But the door is still closing, and she’s bending over, taking off the yoga pants.

  Holy fucking Christ.

  She pulls the tight material down, and I see a red thong…

  and the most perfect ass in the world.

  I’m in heaven.

  And the door closes on me completely, finally swinging shut.

  I take several deep breaths.

  I can hear her moving about in her room. I wonder if she took anything else off. Hell, even in that bra and panty set, I’d fucking ravish the fuck out of her.

  I’d throw her against the wall and fuck her until she forgot her fucking name.

  “Lucien,” she calls out from her room. “I don’t hear you walking away yet. And it makes me uncomfortable because I’m getting naked in here.”

  God fucking dammit.

  My cock is throbbing.

  Yeah.

  This woman.

  She’s going to be fucking harder to beat than anything else.

  I take some slow steps, and walk away.

  But I’m not down for the count yet.

  A plan comes to mind.

  Wait till she sees what I got in store for her.

  Chapter Ten

  Vivian

  Yeah, I did it on purpose.

  What can I say? I really want to mess with his head.

  Okay, sure—maybe if we were talking about a different kind of man, I wouldn’t have gone as far as taking off my clothes when I knew he was watching. But we’re talking about Lucien and, well...it just seemed like a good idea, you know?