Sticky Fingers: An Enemies To Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Starr, Tara

  “Yup,” I say sticking out my tongue. “The fee paid for my apartment here.”

  He laughs at this and I join in.

  “Care for a drink Friday night?” he throws out there.

  Whoa.

  The guy is smooth.

  “Why not tonight?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

  “I figured a beautiful woman like yourself had some plans,” he says easily.

  My plans were Netflix and a bottle of wine, so let’s say yes, I had lots of plans.

  “Smart man,” I say to him with a wink. “I suppose I can do Friday drinks also.”

  “Lets keep it simple,” he says. “Why not the Clarendon Bar up on the 58th floor?”

  I nod. “Sounds perfect,” I tell him.

  He smiles and we bid each other goodbye before going to our separate elevators.

  It’s a funny thing about this building. You never know what can happen. Paintings getting stolen. Malcolm Push banging the Condo Board President’s wife. You name it. When you have this many rich, beautiful people living together, truth is sometimes a lot stranger than fiction.

  I’m going to have to go ask my friends in Clarendon Tower about this Taylor John fellow.

  Because I’m going on a date!

  Watch out, world.

  Ashley has been unleashed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sonia

  Dinner with Malcolm.

  I know I should be thrilled, but after what Kathy found out...I don’t know how to feel. Is Malcolm planning on betraying me? Is all this just a game to him?

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself, trying to pull up the zipper on my dress.

  When I finally get it right, I pat the front of my dress and take a hard look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair cascades softly down my shoulders in gentle waves, and I’m wearing a tight black dress that’s the perfect balance between classy and slutty.

  All the right curves are accentuated, and the amount of cleavage showing is just perfect.

  The only thing off is my smile. And that’s because I’m not fucking smiling. In fact, I look like I’ve been chewing on a lemon for the past half-hour.

  My forehead is creased with worry, and my lips are tightly pursed. Even my hands are balled into fists right now.

  “Jesus,” I mutter, forcing a smile on my lips.

  “Sonia!” Kathy shouts from the living room. “The doorman called. Malcolm is already waiting for you in the lobby!”

  Okay, screw it. I’ve already said yes, so I have to just go and get it done with. Besides, it’s not like I can simply avoid him.

  If we’re playing a game, stepping away is as good as declaring him the winner. And who knows what might happen if I simply shut him off? If I do that, he’ll probably just hand me over to Detective Strong and throw some made-up evidence my way.

  “How do I look?” I ask Kathy as I step out of my bedroom.

  “You look great,” she says, nodding appraisingly, but then she frowns at me. “But try and show some teeth, girl. You look like you’re on the way to a funeral.”

  “Yeah, shit, I’m not exactly happy with how things turned out, you know?” I admit, taking a deep breath and staring out the window.

  I remember the first time I saw the New York skyline from this apartment—the city seemed to hold such promise, and I knew that my life was about to become a rollercoaster. A terribly fun one.

  But now, with all this shit going on...I can’t help but think that coming to this building might have been a mistake.

  One that I’m paying for with my heart.

  Okay, babe, I know what you might be thinking. Poor little me. Boohoo.

  The spoiled little cute rich girl got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Cry me a river.

  You know what? Even if you’re not thinking that, I am.

  Because I haven’t been the most sympathetic character in a romance novel to find common ground with.

  But I’ve had my heart broken. I’m sure you have, too.

  Even if you don’t like me, at least think back to when you had your heart broken. Because it fucking hurts like shit, if you remember.

  “I know this is hard, Sonia,” Kathy whispers softly, laying one hand on my shoulder. “But keep your guard up, okay? Even though we’re already on to him, you never know what someone like Malcolm might do…”

  “I know that,” I say with a nod. “Don’t worry, Kathy. I’ll be careful. And...thank you for looking out for me, babe,” I finish saying, gently placing a kiss on her cheek.

  God bless her. If it wasn’t for Kathy, my life would be such a fucking mess.

  “Always, you know.” She winks at me. “Now, go get him!”

  With a deep breath, I finally leave the apartment and make my way to the lobby. Malcolm’s already there, wearing a custom-tailored suit, one that makes him look even more otherworldly than usual. If perfection had a body, it would be Malcolm’s.

  “Hey, gorgeous. Ready for the night?” he asks me, offering his arm.

  Somehow, I manage to smile at him. I hold onto his arm and allow him to lead the way out of Clarendon Tower.

  His limo is already waiting for us in the entrance, the engine running idly. Like a true gentleman, Malcolm gets the door for me, and I slide inside. I don’t know where we’re going and, even though I love surprises, tonight I’m simply not in the mood for any of that.

  Not when I’m with a man who’s trying to ruin my life.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Malcolm asks me a few minutes later, the limo stuck in New York City traffic.

  He lays his hand gently on top of mine and squeezes my fingers. I fight against the urge to take my hand back and, somehow, I manage to do it.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, a fake smile on my lips.

  He looks at me for two full heartbeats, then looks away with a smile. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes, trying to read him. What’s going on inside his head?

  What is he thinking about? What do the days we spent on his island mean to him?

  “Per Se?” I ask him as the limo stops in front of the Time Warner Center.

  “That’s right. This was the first place we had our date, so I thought it was fitting for the occasion.”

  The occasion? What fucking occasion? Is he going to get me arrested today or what?

  As we step inside the restaurant, I can’t help but gasp. Even though there are a few other customers in the room, Malcolm had reserved a large portion of the dining room just for the two of us, which is kind of amazing.

  I mean, we’re talking about Per Se. For something like this, you’d have to book it months—if not years—in advance!

  And the table is so perfectly arranged, with a variety of roses adorning each of the corners. Jesus, even the chef comes out to greet us right after we sit down.

  I know that Malcolm is a big shot and all that bullshit, but everyone on staff today seems to be extra polite and cheery.

  Just what the hell is going on?

  “I know that last time, you struggled a bit with understanding where I was coming from,” Malcolm says with a chuckle, “but I think I’ve changed a lot since then. Maybe it’ll surprise you. And if not…I’ve gotten the chef to make some things that will surprise you.”

  “I didn’t struggle last time,” I retort with a pout, but that just makes him laugh some more.

  “No, of course not,” he continues, waving at one of the waiters to fill both our glasses.

  For the next hour and a half, it’s as if we’re back at the island. Real life, the Picasso, Detective Strong...all that has remained outside in the cold, while Malcolm and I hide in our little bubble of comfort.

  By the time I notice it, I’m already laughing at his jokes, smiling and looking into his eyes. I’m squeezing his hand back and thinking to myself just how much I love him. I mean, I could be wrong, right?

  There’s a small chance that Malcolm is being genuine with me…

  Don’t be an idiot, Sonia, I sc
old myself.

  I’ve always been extra careful with the people I surround myself with, and that’s part of the reason I’ve never been caught so far. I started to loosen that rule a bit around Malcolm, and now look at the mess I’m in! My fate pretty much rests in his hands.

  “Hey, Earth to Sonia,” I hear Malcolm say. “Are you even listening?”

  “Sorry, I...I spaced out for a bit.”

  “I was just saying...that I’ve never met a woman like you,” he continues, a soft smile on his lips as he locks his eyes on mine. “And that, no matter what happens, I can’t see a future where you’re not around. I’m sorry if my words aren’t good enough... I never really thought about how I’d be in a position like this, you know?”

  “What...what are you talking about?”

  “Sonia,” he whispers softly, pushing his chair back and walking over to me. Then, he goes down on one knee and takes a box out from inside his suit. “Will you marry me?”

  Holy shit.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Malcolm

  Who knew that a heartbeat could last for an eternity?

  Kneeling in front of Sonia, I reach for her hand and take it in mine. My eyes remain locked on hers, and it feels as if time has stopped inside Per Se.

  I smile, waiting for her inevitable ‘Yes,’ but she just blinks. Almost as if she didn’t even understand my question.

  Well, fuck me.

  “Sonia,” I repeat, my lips now feeling dry, “will you marry me?”

  Even though I’ve just repeated myself, the only reply I get is a drawn-out silence—the kind of silence that twists my stomach into fucking knots.

  I’ve sat across mobsters, corrupt politicians, sheiks, and hardened criminals. I’ve bluffed my way into deals, pressured men that would gladly shoot me in the back of the head, and risked my whole fortune time and time again.

  And I’ve never felt like this before.

  Not once.

  That can only mean this is the right thing to do, yeah? I mean, this is my chance to turn my life around. To become a new fucking man.

  All I need is to hear that ‘Yes’ falling from Sonia’s lips and a new Malcolm will emerge from the fucking ground up. A Malcolm that will have a wife, kids, a place to call home and—

  “No.”

  Hang on.

  I know I spaced out for a bit, so I must’ve heard it wrong. Did Sonia say no?

  “Great,” I exclaim with a smile.

  I guess was so fucking anxious I must’ve mistaken her yes for a no.

  “I’m going to make you the happiest woman on Earth, Sonia,” I continue, taking the ring into my hands and preparing to put it in her finger.

  That’s when she pulls her hand back.

  “I said no.”

  “What?”

  “No, Malcolm, I won’t marry you,” she tells me, her tone soft but firm. Without looking away from me, she places her hands on her lap and purses her lips. “And no means no.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I reply, more confused than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

  This is chapter twenty-five, right? It’s the one where we’re supposed to get engaged, kiss, and ride off into the sunset.

  Did Sonia misread the plot or is she going off-script? Fuck, I thought romance novels were supposed to follow a fucking formula.

  I’m not equipped to deal with this.

  “Sonia…what’s going on?” I ask her softly, returning to my seat. “I love you. And I know you love me.”

  “Why are you doing this, Malcolm?” she asks, and for the first time tonight I feel a note of sadness in her voice.

  It’s subtle, but it’s enough to make me feel as if I have a five-inch stake piercing my heart from one side to the other.

  “This?” Narrowing my eyes, I try to do a mental inventory of where I might have gone wrong. “What are you talking about?”

  Maybe she doesn’t like the ring.

  Maybe she doesn’t want Per Se to be the setting for my proposal.

  Or, maybe, she wants me to propose while I’m deep inside of her, her disheveled hair bunched up in my fingers while I make her scream out my name. Well, fuck, if that’s the case I’ll clear the restaurant in five seconds and I’ll solve it.

  “You can drop the act, Malcolm, you really can,” she whispers, lowering her gaze and staring at her hands.

  For a few seconds, I don’t say a word, too surprised to even speak. What the fuck is she talking about? Shit, just exactly how much wine did she have?

  “I know this is all about the painting.”

  “The painting? What painting?” I ask her, right before my brain finally reboots, and I realize she’s talking about that fucking Picasso all over again.

  For a guy who’s been dead for more than forty years, Picasso has proven to be the most adamant cockblocker there is.

  Sighing, I reach for Sonia and place my hand on top of hers.

  “I don’t care about that. I really don’t. Didn’t you see me throw the paintings into the fire? Do you think I’d do that if all I cared about was that damn painting?”

  Finally, she raises her gaze, locking her eyes into mine.

  Seems like we’re going somewhere now.

  “I know you’ve met with Detective Strong.”

  Ah, fuck.

  Closing the ring box, I place it on the table, right between the two of us, and lean back on the chair.

  “So that’s what this is all about,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.

  Somehow, Sonia got wind of the fact that I was meeting with Detective Jeremiah Strong, and she probably thinks that I’m playing her just so I can deliver the painting.

  “Why?” she asks me, that fucking sadness coating each the word.

  “There’s no why,” I finally tell her after a few seconds of silence. “I know what you’re thinking, Sonia, but I can assure you…you’re wrong about this whole situation. You’re wrong about me. I’m not playing you, and this isn’t a game to me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant it.”

  “Would you go that far just to get your hands on the painting?”

  Jesus fucking Christ, is she even listening to me? Here I am, willing to go down on my knees and offer the rest of my life on a fucking silver platter, and Sonia thinks I’m just doing it because of a fucking painting.

  “Look, I get it,” I continue, trying to keep calm. “But again, you’re wrong. The only reason I’ve been meeting with Jeremiah is because—”

  “Jeremiah?” she interrupts, holding one hand up in the air. “Are you guys on a first name basis already?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Detective Strong and I go way back. We’ve been meeting because he’s helping me tie the loose ends I have before I…before I change things. I’m going legit, Sonia, and I need Jeremiah for that.”

  “Right,” she hisses through her teeth. “The only person in the world that can help you do that is the one that wants to nail me. What a small world we live in, huh?”

  Shit, this is why you should never argue with a fucking chick—they’ll twist every single word of yours and use them as a baseball bat on your fucking balls.

  “Listen,” I continue, trying to keep a lid on my frustration as I run one hand through my hair. “Strong is the one constant in my life. All the way from the Marcy Avenue Housing Projects. After my family died, he always kept an eye on me. He’s the one who found me after my brother and mom were killed. As fucked up as it may sound, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I’m telling you the truth. He was just a young beat cop on the night my mother and brother died, and he kept checking up on me a couple of times a year when I was in the foster care system. Believe it or not, Jeremiah Strong is the closest thing I have to a father.”

  “Do you expect me to believe that the most notorious criminal mastermind in New York City has a close-knit relat
ionship with one of the most incorruptible detectives in the city? I didn’t know you took me for such a fool.”

  Christ, what else am I supposed to say?

  I could tell her all about the strain in my relationship with Strong, how he’s always been on my case from the very start, and how he always did his best to make sure I didn’t make poor choices in life.

  But would she even believe me? Would she believe me that, after every fucked-up choice I ever made in my life, Strong always promised to help me find a way out?

  Or that Strong was such an incorruptible cop that, despite the way he’s almost raised me, he’s threatened to put me away in jail if he ever catches me doing anything wrong?

  That he’s always honed in on me? When others would have given up on a crime, he’s always gone the extra mile to see if it was me?

  “You’re going all legitimate, huh? So why do I have the feeling that your biggest money-making machine, the strip clubs, are off-limits?” she continues, her tone now angry instead of sad.

  I say nothing. This time, she’s right. Even though I was more than willing to let go of most of my operations, I never considered the fucking strip clubs.

  “What this seems to me, Malcolm, is that Strong is your way out of this whole situation. He’s strong-arming you into screwing me over, and you’re happy to dance to his little tune. You find the painting, sell me out, and you’re off the hook.”

  Fuck.

  “Sonia…” I try, once more reaching for her hands.

  She doesn’t allow me to. Instead, she pushes her chair back and jumps to her feet.

  “If your plan was to make me fall in love with you,” she whispers, the hint of a tear dancing on her bright eyes, “then you should be a very happy man right now, Malcolm Push.” She pauses for a moment, just to look into my eyes, then bites the corner of her lips to stop herself from bursting into tears. “Because it worked.”

  Without giving me the chance to stop her, she turns on her heels and bolts out of the restaurant, the sound of her heels clicking across the polished floor like a fucking funeral song.

  How the fuck did things turn out like this?