by T. S. Ryder
Not this time. Barnes, too, was faster than he looked, and just as Scarlet reached the window, his arms wrapped around her waist.
He was stronger than she realized as well–Scarlett's eyes widened as he lifted her bodily from the ground, twirling her away from the window. A hand the size of a dinner plate slapped over her mouth. Barnes carried her back to the safe, depositing her while he ripped her pack off her.
"Sir, I insist that you release me at once!" Scarlet's voice was higher-pitched than normal, even as she tried to calm her pounding heart.
Panicking would only make the situation worse.
"You are an intruder in my house, madam," Barnes replied, with all the courtesy that his English accent demanded. He pulled Scarlett's handcuffs, only to be used in the most desperate of emergencies, from her pack and spun her around. "You have no right to make demands."
Before Scarlett could fight back or even protest, he had slapped a cuff on one wrist, threaded it through a bar that protruded from the wall, and cuffed her other wrist. Scarlett's heart rate spiked; this could spell the end of her career or worse! Too late, she struggled, kicking at Barnes. He merely stepped out of her reach.
It was no secret that another billionaire, Ken Madoc, had been searching for her ever since she entered his house to find two bodies stuffed into his safe. Barnes and Madoc ran in the same circles. If they were friends, it might as well be her body hidden away. She would probably never be found.
Barnes calmly stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth, then removed his tie and gagged her with it. "I'm afraid I have to leave you now and attend to my guests. I will return when I can, and then we can talk."
He closed the safe door, locking her in darkness.
Scarlett twisted against her cuffs, panic threatening to overwhelm her. If he was going to call the police, he would not have gagged her. So either he did know Madoc, or he was going to handle her himself anyway. He probably thought he could get away with it–he was so rich, he probably could.
This is why I hate people who have too much money. They think the world is theirs to command.
She kicked around in the darkness, trying to locate her pack. Her lock-picking gear was inside and, if she could get it, then she could escape before Barnes returned to… what? Give her cement shoes and throw her in the nearest lake? Put a bullet in the back of her head?
All her struggles were in vain. By Scarlett's reckoning, she was in the safe for an hour, no closer to escape than when he had first put her in, when Barnes returned. The sounds of partying below were gone, so Scarlett didn't bother screaming when he removed the gag from her mouth. She stared at him coldly as he picked up her pack and emptied it. At least he had the decency to sort things out into proper piles.
"A newspaper clipping about a school in Queens being closed due to budget cuts?" he said at last. A grin grew on his face as he looked up. "You must be the Gentlewoman Thief."
Scarlett nodded with all the grace she could muster.
"I'm honored, madam." He bowed.
"Thank you."
Barnes began packing her things again. "I must say, I have been a great admirer of your work for some time. I especially enjoyed that letter you wrote to the newspaper over the nickname they gave you."
Even though it was ungentlewomanly to scowl, Scarlett found herself doing just that at the mention of her former nickname. Kitty Cat Burglar. "That 'name' was nothing more than an attempt to both infantilize and sexualize me. It's disgusting."
"As you said in your letter." Barnes' smile widened. "A scolding to the media for the way they portray women, especially young girls, as having worth only because of how sexually desirable they are. It was masterfully written."
"Thank you."
"Brains and beauty. A deadly combination." Barnes' gaze ran down her figure lazily, making her tense. He sensed her discomfort and returned his gaze to her eyes. "I have made you uncomfortable."
"I don't like men ogling me when I'm restrained."
"I apologize. It's just that you're not what I was imagining."
Scarlett resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You were expecting a black spandex catsuit on a woman with no muscle definition but who still manages to have perfect perky breasts?"
Barnes shrugged, completely unabashed. "Regardless of what I imagined, I am pleased to meet you. Am I correct in assuming that if I unlock you, you won't attempt to fight against me?"
"Why would you assume that?"
"Because your profession, your creed if you will, abhors violence. I have no doubt that you would be well able to defend yourself, but as you can see, I am carrying no weapons. I would like to talk with you, madam."
Scarlett stared the man in the eye, trying to gauge his truthfulness. She had, of course, thoroughly researched Barnes before she came, like she always did since that disastrous incident with Madoc. Barnes seemed fairly honorable, for a man with as much wealth as he had. Despite her earlier fears, she didn't think that he was going to harm her. She eyed his massive arms and broad shoulders. She was stronger than she looked, but she would be no match for him in a fight.
After a moment's consideration, she nodded. "We can talk."
Barnes unlocked her cuffs and led her to a lavish study, where he poured her a glass of scotch. There was enough gold on the shelves to fill a hundred thousand teeth.
"How does a girl like you end up as a burglar?"
Scarlett scowled, though she accepted the glass. "That word is hardly appropriate."
Barnes rose a brow.
"If you know so much about me, then you must know my morals," Scarlett said. "I only take what ultimately won't be missed, and I make sure to donate at least seventy percent of my acquisitions to those who truly need it. That's hardly enough to be branded a burglar, like those people who come in with masks and guns and beat up homeowners."
"Stealing is stealing. You may practice it without violence, but it's not a victimless crime."
Scarlet felt herself bristling. "Crime? Do you want to talk about crime? Look around this room, Mr. Barnes. There is enough wealth in this single space for an entire family to leave poverty and send their children to university, so they don't waste away trying to pay their bills or debts in minimum wage jobs. You could stop babies from starving and people from serving jail time for 'stealing' what they need to survive. So tell me, what's the bigger criminal? Me, taking a little here and there from people who won't miss it, or you, stealing possibilities from future generations by hoarding your wealth?"
Barnes took a sip of his scotch, an amused smile on his lips. "Your argument is flawed, but not baseless. I am not going to debate morals with you, though, Miss…?"
"You may call me Scarlett."
"Your last name isn't O'Hara, is it? Because with your southern accent—"
"Brenan. You're going to turn me over to the police, anyway, so there is no point in keeping my name from you." Scarlett sighed as she drank. All the good she was doing, finished. Well, it was her own fault for being so careless. Her mentor would be appalled when he found out.
Barnes chuckled. "I have no intention of calling the police, Scarlett."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I have a proposal to make to you." He settled in a wing-backed leather chair. "You have read about me in the newspapers, yes?"
Scarlett nodded.
"Then you know of my mysterious fiancée that everybody knows about but nobody has seen?" At her second nod, he continued. "There is no fiancée. It was something I made up when I last visited my extended family so they would stop bothering me about when I was going to settle down, and the media has blown it completely out of proportion. I'm tired of all my female friends being targeted."
Scarlett held up her hand. "Please get to the point. What does this have to do with me?"
Barnes' smile widened. "I want you to be my fiancée. Hang off my arm for a year, let the media have their storm and then we can quietly part. I'll even introduce you to the old wealth of the country, so you'
ll have plenty of work to keep you occupied after our charade is done. And as a sign of my thanks, I will donate a million dollars every month to a charity of your choice. At the end of the year, five billion will go wherever you want it."
It was a good offer. Scarlett scowled. Did she want to spend a year pretending she was going to marry the man? Well, it was better than prison. At least this way she could continue to do some good. And she had to admit that he was quite attractive, and she had enjoyed their brief verbal sparring. There were worse choices. Letting out a heavy sigh, she nodded.
"I will be your fiancée for a year," she said reluctantly. "But if you think that includes sex, sir, think again."
It seemed impossible, but Barnes' smile got even bigger. His eyes gleamed, as though she had just offered him an exciting challenge. He held out his hand. "Deal."
Scarlett shook his hand, her heartbeat increasing as she did so. She was not thinking about taking back her no-sex rule as she realized just how large his hands were…
This is going to be a long year.
Chapter Two
Barnes–Max, as he insisted Scarlett call him, given that they were engaged–was generous enough to give her a few days to get to know his friends before he unleashed the media on her. And so the day after she got engaged to a man she didn't know, she found herself in a bridal salon with a bunch of women she didn't know. Apparently, Max's housekeeper, Vanessa, had a granddaughter who was getting married soon. Max was footing the bill for her wedding dress.
The bride had astonishingly bad taste. She wanted lace and ruffles and beading and a train six feet long and a puffy princess skirt and a sexy corset top. Any one of the elements by themselves, or even a few together in moderation, would have been fine. But all together? Scarlett was horrified and it took all her control not to slap some sense into the young woman.
"So you're Max's fiancée?" one of the bride's friends or cousins asked her, while they were waiting for the bride to change into her normal clothes, having chosen the 'perfect' gown. "It's funny that he has never talked about you before."
Scarlet gave her a practiced smile. "I like my privacy, and Max understands that."
"Oh, I completely understand. I hate it when people are all pushy about things that are none of their business. So where are you from?"
Vanessa, whom Max had told the truth of the engagement the previous night, leaned across the younger woman to grab Scarlett's wrist. She was grateful for the interruption–until Vanessa spoke.
"I have the most wonderful idea, my dear. While you're here, you should try on a dress or two yourself."
"Oh, I couldn't," Scarlett gasped, horrified. What was Vanessa after, asking her to do something like that? Did she want to expose the relationship as a fraud? "This is about your granddaughter. I don't even know y’all that well."
For some reason, Scarlett found people responded positively when she said 'y’all'. This time was no different and the gathered women tittered and smiled. But they still insisted she try on a gown, especially when they heard she hadn't been giving her wedding details that much thought. Scarlett couldn't believe that they would derail the actual bride's moment, but when she also insisted that Scarlett try on a dress or two, courtesy demanded she acquiesce, and Scarlett was bustled off to a dressing room.
Once she was in the dressing room, Scarlett let her frustrations out with a few choice swear words, and that helped her feel better. A couple of dresses were presented to her by the bridal consultant, picked out by the party who were eagerly waiting to see her in them. Scarlett managed to squeeze herself into one of them but had to send the bridal consultant back to see if she could find the other one three sizes bigger.
Scarlett sighed unhappily as she peered into the mirror. She was in a mermaid dress that looked like it had been vacuum sealed around her body. The awful ice-white shade did nothing for her already too-pale completion. A gentlewoman she might be, but she was not going to wear white when she eventually married. It looked awful on her.
A knock on the dressing room door brought her out of her thoughts. She opened it, expecting the bridal consultant. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of an older Vietnamese gentleman wearing a tailored dark brown suit and carrying a polished cane in his hand.
"Hao!" Scarlett squealed in delight, throwing her arms around him.
If she was the 'gentlewoman thief', Hao was the quintessential 'gentleman thief'. Every one of his collections went off without a hitch, and in his fifty years of business, he had never once taken so much as a ring that could not be replaced. Scarlett had been lucky enough to run into him at the start of her own career, and he had taught her everything she knew.
When she pulled back, however, she saw that the usual smile on his face was not present. Her arms dropped to her side.
"What's this I hear about you engaging yourself to Maximillian Barnes? Have you no shame, turning into a common confidence scammer?"
"Certainly not!" Scarlett narrowed her eyes at her old mentor. "Where did you hear about my… engagement, anyway?"
"I have my sources. It will be all over the tabloids by tonight." Hao folded his hands over his cane. "If you are not running a confidence scam, then what exactly are you doing, Scarlett? Have you turned against the greater good to drown yourself in diamonds? Or do you think you will break the institution from the inside?"
"You have it all wrong, Hao," Scarlett said, folding her arms. Her lower lip stuck out, like the teenager she was when Hao first found her. She wasn't proud of it, but for some reason, she always felt like a child around her mentor, and inevitably slipped back into the role.
"I do, do I?" Hao looked at wedding dress she was wearing pointedly. "So you are just trying on that ridiculous costume for fun, are you? You do know that that single gown could feed half a dozen families for a month?"
"More than that," Scarlett protested. "You've underestimated its value."
She wasn't helping her case any and dropped her arms to smooth down the tight skirt. Her fingers caught on the jewels spaced throughout the intricate embroidery. It felt suddenly decadent to be wearing such a ridiculous gown and she dropped her head, ashamed.
"Why don't you tell me what it is you are up to?" Hao's voice was even as he gazed at her.
With a sigh, Scarlett explained the events of the previous night and the deal she had made with Max. Saying it out loud made the whole thing sound even more preposterous than it had up until this moment, and Scarlet ended by sitting in a provided chair, the tight wedding dress making it hard to breathe. She felt like she was going to burst out of it at any moment.
Hao had been quiet as she spoke, and once she was done, he shook his head. Disapproval was coming off him in waves and Scarlett felt even more ashamed than she had when she had started. This pretense, even though she was not the one to suggest it, was certainly not the action of a woman who considered herself to be well-mannered and full of social grace.
"I don't care if it is ungentlewomanly," she muttered in a petulant tone. "Sometimes a woman must fight against social constraint. Can I call myself a strong woman if I do not forge my own path from time to time?"
"I cannot say that I am pleased with this course of action, Scarlett. It would have been better had you not allowed your hubris to overtake you. But as you said, you must forge your path from time to time. As long as this Barnes does not take liberties you are unwilling to give, then I can't say anything more on the subject."
Scarlett glanced up through her lashes, hoping to see Hao's gentle smile. It was there, and she got to her feet again, embracing him to show her thanks.
"If you do end up taking this… masquerade too far, don't forget to invite me to the wedding." Hao winked at her, earning a laugh. "And whatever else you might do for the ceremony, do not wear a dress that looks like this. It's all wrong for you, my Scarlett, all wrong. It shows none of your elegance, and it's so… boringly traditional. You need something with a bit more spunk."
"And not white," S
carlett added. "Blue or black."
Hao tilted his head, nodding his approval. "Blue. An elegant navy blue. Perhaps with some contrasting embroidery."
Scarlett clapped her hands. "Yes, that would be perfect."
"Well, I must be off." He patted her cheek affectionately. "A gentleman's work is never done."
Scarlet embraced him again, not wanting him to leave. Everything had happened so quickly that, until this moment, she hadn't had time to really process what was happening. Now that she understood exactly what she was doing, it was frightening. She wanted Hao to come back to Max's mansion and solve the problem like he had so often done in the past. But, as she had said, she needed to forge her own path, and this was certainly one of those moments. So she released him and stepped back.
"If I do get married," she said, smiling because there wasn't anything else to do, "you will have to walk me down the aisle. You're the closest thing I have to a father."
Hao squeezed her hand. "It would be my honor."
With a smile and a final doff of his hat, he slipped from the dressing room. Moments later the bridal consultant was back, and Scarlett plastered a smile onto her face, determined to play the excited bride to the best of her capabilities.
Chapter Three
Two months later, Scarlett had her first 'official date' with Max. They had spent those two months getting to know each other, and collaborating a story about how they had met. Most importantly, they decided how he had proposed. They disagreed on the finer details, but that was the only natural between real couples, so they let it slide in their fake relationship.
For their first real date, where her identity as Maximillian Barnes' fiancée was officially revealed to the world, Scarlett insisted that they go see a Broadway musical. There was something about a live performance that thrilled and immersed her the way a movie, no matter how enjoyable, could not. She had actually been surprised to learn that Max preferred theater over cinema as well. Actually, she found it surprising how well they got along. Conversation was easy between them as if they had really had known each other for years before Max proposed.