Sticky Fingers: An Enemies To Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Starr, Tara

  For a moment, she says nothing, and neither do I. I have no fucking idea why I just told her this…

  I’ve never told it to anyone before, to be honest. But the words just flew out.

  Whenever I’m around Sonia, I feel like I can lower my guard. Which is a fucking idiotic thing to do, being that I barely know her…but then again, I always trust my instincts.

  And that’s because they’re always right.

  Sonia reaches across the table to grab my other hand, her delicate fingers on mine. “I’m so sorry.” She squeezes and then let’s go quickly.

  Fucking classy, because I don’t want to be pitied.

  “Yeah, well, it sure colored my life in many fucking ways.”

  Popping my sushi in my mouth, I chew slowly.

  Sonia takes a drink before continuing. “So, what do you mean? You don’t go hard in business…because of that?”

  Jesus, she’s like a fucking shrink.

  “Survival. It’s all about survival,” I admit. “I look back and think about all the different ways I could’ve tried to save them. Calling someone. Distracting them. Killing them. I don’t know. But when it comes right down to it, I stayed in that closet to survive. Everything I’ve done is to survive. From my beginnings shaking down kids for lunch money to moving up in the ranks of the businesses I have. Survive and thrive.”

  Sonia smiles sadly but nods her head in understanding.

  “At first, I was shaking kids down for money and then stealing things so I could keep surviving. Work distracted me from the fact that I was alone. Not getting into drugs lets me keep a distance from the same people that had killed by brother,” I say to her. “After a while, having boundaries of what I wouldn’t do meant that I could keep looking at myself in the mirror.”

  I pause and turn to her. “But you know what the most important thing is for me right now?”

  Sonia looks up and shrugs.

  “I’ve moved from survival mode to thrive mode, and that means that I need to get legit. Everybody gets caught eventually.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and Sonia snorts.

  “The most important thing in the last couple of years was my transition from questionable fucking businesses to mainstream cash cows. I don’t want to have to just survive any longer, and the more I have to look over my fucking shoulder, the less I can thrive.”

  “Well, that’s very honorable of you.” Sonia waves her chopsticks at me. “Boring but very honorable.”

  Boring? Jesus, she’s a fucking hard one to impress.

  “You really think that’s boring?” I ask her.

  I thought most women would like to know their man isn’t mixed up in anything that would land them in jail.

  Wait, her man? Fuck. She’s really getting inside my head.

  Anyway, who is she to judge me? She’s a fucking hot intriguing piece of ass, no doubt, but she’s also a train wreck herself.

  “Yes. It’s a bit boring.” After taking another sip of her drink, she puts it down and leans in closer. “I like to have fun. Wild fun. And a little bit of danger with the risk of getting caught…It’s a major turn on.”

  My lips turn up at her attitude. She’s so fucking hot, and her statement has given me a lot of fucking ideas.

  Leaning in, I mimic her pose. “Well, going legit is a lot trickier than it sounds and has some major risks, too. It’s taken me two years to get to where I am now, and combing through everything in my life to get on the straight and narrow has been hard work. I’m very proud of where I am now. Almost.” I hold up my fingers just a little apart.

  I’ve been using this analogy for over a year now, but I wasn’t kidding when I said it was fucking tricky. There’s more to it than people realize, and hiding money is a skill all on its own.

  “So why does the daughter of the police commissioner go around stealing priceless paintings?”

  I pop the last piece of my sushi into my mouth and lean back, determined to wait for the real reason…whether I get it from her mouth or her body language.

  She starts to laugh, and I enjoy watching her tits bounce in the sexy bra she must be wearing. I’m already ready for another taste of them.

  “I just wanted to have fun. I was bored.” Her fake pout at her words is over the top and stops as soon as it began. “But really…if you’re talking about art theft, I’m really just an amateur.”

  “Did you steal other things?” I ask.

  She shrugs, then grows serious as she looks at me.

  “I grew up without a mom,” she starts. “She died in childbirth. So, I was pretty much raised by my Dad—who was driven by his career. Police commissioner is the apex of his professional ambition, but at home, he’s done as good a job as he could.”

  I pause, letting Sonia continue.

  “A part of that meant protecting me. From the world,” she says as I nod my head in understanding.

  What father hasn’t wanted to protect their beautiful daughters from the ugliness of the world? Hell, from people like me?

  “He wouldn’t let me date till I left the house to go to college. Even in college, he had his people watching me. You never know how many eyes are on you when every single NYPD officer and civilian knows your face and is watching out for you,” Sonia says.

  “That must have been rough,” I say.

  Sonia rolls her eyes. “Especially if you’re going to college at NYU. Want to go out for a drink on a Thursday? Cops watching me. Want to go ditch class and go to the beach? Plainclothes officers tailing me on the way to Long Island. It got so bad that I started figuring out ways to dip under the radar and break free,” she confides.

  “You got good at that?” I ask.

  She nods. “That’s how it started. Get out from the watchful eyes and lose your tail. Maybe stop the cab in the middle of traffic. Maybe dart into the subway and then go out the other way once the people assigned to watch over you run in. But once you’re free, what do you do? Well, my first thought was do something bad. Something you’re not supposed to do.”

  I keep nodding. I can understand where she’s coming from.

  “At first it was just go buy a move ticket and stay and sneak into all the other movies. But then there was the thrill of shoplifting. The more expensive the item, the more the thrill. The accomplishment of illicit victory. And then it became art.”

  “All so you can feel free.”

  “So I can feel alive.”

  We sit in silence for a bit before Sonia dives back into her sushi.

  I sit and wonder if I could have found anyone more interesting to spend time with. She might be a bit of a fucking lunatic but…aren’t we all?

  Besides, the way she shakes everything off as inconsequential and does exactly what she damn well pleases is so fucking hot. I bet if I told her to blow me under this table, she would think about it for three seconds before diving under the table cloth.

  So fucking hot.

  I’m so due for some great fucking karma.

  She’s exactly what I need.

  “Alright, so you like fun, huh?”

  Grabbing my cell phone on the table, I hit the speed dial for my limo and driver. I tell him to come pick me up in a voice that Sonia can hear. As I end the call and place the phone back on the table, I look into her eyes and smile defiantly.

  “What was that?” Sonia asks, her eyes curious.

  “Baby,” I say with a drawn-out breath afterwards, “that was me getting ready to show you something that is definitely not boring.”

  “Oh?” Sonia asks. “When?”

  “Now.”

  Pulling out my wallet, I drop a few bills on the table to cover our check and then some.

  “Now?” Sonia asks, her eyes wide.

  “Now,” I reiterate.

  By now, Sonia is already pulling her coat off the back of the chair and about ready to stand.

  Her light manner and easy question contradicts the tightness around her eyes. I know she really wants to know what I have up my sleeve.
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br />   Too bad my lips are sealed.

  Standing, I cross over to pull her chair out and hold her coat up for her to put her arms in.

  “Where are we going?” she asks me finally as we leave the restaurant and my car pulls up.

  “I can’t tell you,” I whisper back to her with a devilish grin as I open the door for her. “Where would the fun be in that?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sonia

  “The airport?” I ask as I see a plane descending to the ground as Malcolm’s car drives down the freeway.

  “Actually, for all intents and purposes, it’s a private airfield,” Malcolm says as the limo rolls through the clearance area of the private airport.

  Hangar decks fills the place, their rooftops gleaming under the orange brushstrokes of the setting sun, and a small fleet of private jets is lined up at the tarmac.

  “You need a six-million-dollar private jet to get in here.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask him for the what has to be the hundredth time, looking out the window and trying to guess which of these jets belong to Malcolm.

  “I thought you liked fun and adventure,” he says, laughing, “so I was thinking I’d make it a surprise.”

  “A surprise, huh?” I laugh back, turning around on the leather seat to face him. “I do like surprises.”

  As I say it, a thought pops into my mind—I know exactly how to make whatever Malcolm has planned more interesting.

  Plus, it might help put to rest this nagging question in my head.

  What question, you ask?

  Oh, babe, the only question that’s been circling ever since Malcolm told me to get in his car.

  Does he really care about me?

  Or is this all about the painting?

  As the limo finally halts to a stop, I jump out and stretch my back. “Mind if I make a call? If we’re traveling, I need my assistant to bring me some stuff,” I say, never taking my eyes off his.

  Against the setting sun, he casts an imposing figure. He’s still wearing his tailored suit, although he has left the jacket in the car, and the shirt sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows.

  You know when people say someone looks like a million bucks? Well, Malcolm looks like a billion dollars.

  Although, I’ll admit it...I prefer him when he’s naked.

  “We can buy whatever you need when we get there,” he tells me with a shrug, already turning his back to me and moving toward one of the planes.

  “Not really. What I need is really important,” I insist, and he stops to look at me questioningly.

  As I don’t say a word more, he merely shrugs.

  “Fine, sure.”

  Twenty-minutes later, Kathy rolls into the airport in her silver Mercedes. She stops right next to the limo; her reading glasses have been replaced by sunglasses, which she always uses to drive, and she has her hair tied in a bun. As she jumps out of the car, I immediately notice a concerned expression on her face.

  Typical Kathy.

  “Sorry I took so long!” she says, waving at me to get closer.

  For two heartbeats, she eyes Malcolm suspiciously, but then turns her attention back to me.

  “Are you sure this is fine?” She lowers her voice into a barely audible whisper, discreetly pointing at Malcolm. “Are you really going to let him fly you up to God knows where?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “God, you’re impossible,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head.

  Still, she walks around the car and pops the trunk open. The back seats have been lowered to accommodate three large wooden boxes, all carefully stacked on top of one another. “Well, here they are.”

  Carefully, I help her take out the boxes and line then up on the floor, right in front of Malcolm’s limo. As we do it, Malcolm simply stares at us, one eyebrow cocked as he tries to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

  He eyes the boxes attentively, measuring them up and making the conclusion that they have the shape and size needed to accommodate painting canvases.

  That’s right. When I said I needed Kathy to bring me something, I wasn’t talking about my favorite lingerie or makeup.

  Where’s the fun in that?

  How does that push the limits of this crazy game that Malcolm and I are playing?

  “Alright,” Kathy whispers, wiping the sweat off her brow. “What you asked is here. Now, be careful, okay? And if you need anything—whatever it is—just reach out. I don’t trust that asshole.”

  She points at Malcolm with her chin and says, “But I do trust your judgement.”

  “Thank you, Kathy. You’re the best there is,” I reply, laying a soft kiss on her cheek.

  I watch as she walks back to her car and drives away, and I can’t help but notice that she throws a menacing glance at Malcolm through the rearview mirror. That’s Kathy in a nutshell—a total mother hen.

  “What’s in those boxes?” Malcolm finally asks, casually poking one of them with the tip of his shoe.

  “Curious?”

  “Not really.” He shrugs, although I know for certain that he’s dying to know what I asked Kathy to bring over.

  “Liar.” I laugh softly and then make my way to him.

  Reaching out to him, I place one arm on his chest, then I bring my free hand up. I brush my index finger over his lips, my eyes on his, and then I smile.

  “You know this is a fantasy, don’t you? You and me...it’s all a fantasy.”

  I don’t really like putting it like this, but there’s no other way to say it. As fun as being with Malcolm is, let’s be real for a minute.

  He’s a crime boss, and I’m just someone who steals things for fun. Our paths have crossed, sure, but sooner or later...this fantasy will come to an end.

  “What’s your point?” he asks me, and that’s when I finally point to the boxes lying on the floor.

  “You can tell me to open the boxes any time,” I tell him, my smile fading away. “Maybe inside one of those boxes is the painting...maybe all you have to do is open them up and find what you’re looking for.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “Smart boy,” I whisper. “If you do that...if you open the boxes, you’ll have to bring me back. You’ll have to let go. We’ll come back from fantasy-land and step back right into reality.”

  “Reality?” he asks, licking his lips.

  I nod. “The one where you’re no longer implicated for stealing a painting you never did. The one where you can go legitimate and hand me off to the police. Where you gain your freedom forever…but maybe lose me, too.”

  “What if I want both?” he asks me.

  I shake my head and smile at him.

  “You’re going to have to choose, Malcolm Push,” I tell him and walk over. “What’s more important to you? The painting? Or the girl?”

  “You wouldn’t be crazy enough to bring the painting over,” he whispers back at me, momentarily stunned.

  “Maybe not. Or maybe…” I kick one of the boxes softly. “I’m just crazy like that.”

  “So…” he finally says after a long silence. I can almost hear the gears turning inside his head. “Is it that easy?”

  “It is,” I reply, and for a moment my heart tightens up.

  If he asks me to open the boxes, this is all over.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Malcolm

  She fucking got me there.

  I look her up and down. With her hip cocked and the smirk she’s wearing, I know she’s really enjoying this.

  No one usually plays games with Malcolm Push.

  Except, it seems, Sonia Sawyer.

  She thinks I’ll cave and ask her to fucking open the boxes. But curiosity is more of a woman’s trait, the way I see it. Curiosity killed the cat and all that happy fucking horseshit.

  If she’s going to blow up whatever this is between us, I don’t want it to happen now.

  I guess she’s leaving it up to me to blow it all to hell. But guess what?
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  She’s fucking wrong—whatever it is we have going on, I won’t be the one fucking ruining it.

  Because I think I…

  No. I’m not going to fucking say it.

  Fuck you. I didn’t say anything.

  She’s interesting, sure. She’s funny. Sexy as all hell.

  Makes me laugh. Makes me think.

  Makes me want to be a better man.

  First thing I think of in the morning.

  Last thing I think of at night.

  But no. You’re not going to fucking hear it from me, baby. I’m not saying it.

  Keep reading, because I am not the Malcolm Push that loses his heart over a fucking broad.

  I’m not Dominic. I do not give up my bad boy ways for a woman.

  No.

  I’m planning to have a fucking good time, and the fucking Picasso can wait.

  “Just get on the plane, Sonia,” I tell her with a smirk, pointing at the small private plane gleaming in the sunlight.

  She wants fun. She wants spontaneity.

  Well, I want her to get her cute little ass on the plane so we can get the fucking show on the road.

  Laughing slightly, she walks up to me and grabs my arm still pointing at the plane, yanking it down before sliding her arms around my neck and pulling my head down to her lips.

  It’s so fucking hot how she takes control. But as soon as her tongue breaches my lips, I can’t help taking over, thrusting in her mouth aggressively and wrapping my arms around her to lift her off her feet.

  One of her legs wraps around mine, her foot around my calf, using me like a pole to pull herself up and cling to me. She drives me fucking crazy. I want to take her down to the tarmac right there and fuck the shit out of her.

  Fuck everyone. They can watch.

  As she slides down my body and onto her feet, all her soft curves slide along me. She keeps at it until her breasts brush my cock, as she bends and then turns to walk away.