Sticky Fingers: An Enemies To Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Starr, Tara

  “The paintings!”

  “Is there a fire?”

  “OH GOD!”

  “Run!”

  Everyone’s panicking now, the anxiety in the room almost palpable.

  When the first drop of water hits my face, I can’t help but smile.

  It’s time the Picasso returns home.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Malcolm

  What the fuck is going on?

  No, seriously.

  What the fuck is going on?

  When Sonia asked me to gather everyone here, I had no idea what she was planning, but I sure as hell didn’t figure it would involve something as drastic as smoke grenades. More than that, the whole place is dark, and it’ll take at least thirty seconds before the emergency generators kick in.

  I blink, trying to see past all the smoke, and that’s when I hear the fire alarm go off.

  Jesus, what the fuck is she thinking?

  If she sets the alarm off, it’s very likely that the sprinklers will be triggered, which means that both everyone and the paintings will be drenched in no time. Well, shit, at least there’s a built-in safeguard against that. In an emergency, the paintings will recede into a partition inside the wall, protecting them from all the water.

  And, as the smoke starts to clear, that’s exactly what I see happening.

  By the time the sprinklers start spitting water everywhere, most paintings are already hiding inside the walls. One by one, they slide back into their hiding compartments, millions of dollars trying to protect themselves from all the water and a supposed fire.

  Narrowing my eyes, I try to do the impossible and spot Sonia. I can’t, of course—she’s being doing this for a very long time, and there’s no way I’ll spot her if she doesn’t want to be seen.

  “What the…?”

  I turn on my heels as I hear a slight but repetitive noise right behind me.

  Like something bumping against the wall.

  Holding my breath, and with one hand in front of my face to shield myself from the smoke, I take a few steps towards the end of the gallery.

  “No fucking way,” I whisper under my breath, watching as the painting Sonia donated to the gallery to replace the stolen Picasso bumps repeatedly against the wall.

  It has too large of a frame, meaning that every time the mechanism tries to pull him inside the wall compartment, the frame bumps against it repeatedly.

  Shit!

  Did Sonia plan this? But why?

  Looking around me, I notice as dozens of Strong’s goons swarm the whole room. They run through the crowd, eyes wide as they try to pin down the culprit. Three of these assholes are staring straight to me, almost as if they were expecting me to do something stupid like pull out a giant Picasso from my suit and put it back on the wall.

  Strong wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t give me a free pass on this.

  “What the hell is going on, Malcolm?” I hear him growl right behind him, and then I feel the pressure of his fingers as he holds my right arm tight.

  “I have no fucking idea” is the only thing I can come up with, my eyes still focused on Sonia’s painting as it keeps bumping against the wall.

  Only then do I realize what’s happening.

  The painting, the only one not hiding inside the wall, is already drenched. Large beads of water drip down the canvas, washing away the paint to reveal what’s underneath.

  “Is this a joke?” Strong asks me.

  For the first time in what seems like forever, he isn’t barking a command or growling a threat—he seems as surprised as I am.

  “If this is a joke…” I mutter, not taking my eyes away from the painting, “it’s a pretty great one.”

  “No way,” Strong whispers, easing his grip on my arm. “Are you telling me that—?”

  “Seems like it.” I nod, a wide smile spreading over my lips. “The Picasso has been here right from the start. Right under everyone’s noses.”

  Right in front of Strong and me, the original Picasso hangs on the wall.

  Sonia’s a fucking genius.

  I can barely believe it, but it seems like Sonia was bold enough to return it practically after it was stolen. She merely applied a layer of watercolor over the original painting, something that could wash off easily, and then returned it after the theft.

  She hid it in plain sight.

  Fuck me, Sonia was right—she didn’t care about the money.

  It was all about the thrill of it.

  “Your painting, Detective,” I tell Strong with a smirk. “Right where it belongs.”

  Strong’s about to reply, but his words vanish as the generators finally kick in, and the whole gallery is flooded by the bright overhead lights. The sprinklers finally stop, their furious hissing slowly fading away, and all that’s left are the confused voices of the crowd.

  “It’s impossible!”

  “Is that the Picasso?”

  “But how?”

  “Who did this?”

  Everyone seems to have something to say and, even though the painting has finally been returned, I don’t think they’ll let me go without an explanation.

  Time to think fast.

  “And here you go,” I start, raising my voice as I wave at the painting. “The Picasso is right where it belongs. I found it going on auction in an underground circle, and I managed to secure it. And now it has been returned.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Strong whispers into my ear, narrowing his eyes as he looks at the painting. “I saw what happened. The painting has been here all long, which means that your girlfriend was—”

  “Fiancée,” I say with a smile.

  “What?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my fiancée,” I continue, smiling as I stare Strong down. “And, since the painting has been returned…case closed.”

  “Not so fast. Daphne Abbot might still press charges,” Strong growls, waving at Daphne to walk over to us.

  She’s grinning—that’s exactly what she does—and walking arm in arm with Dominic.

  “Seems like the real thing,” Daphne says, her nose so close to the painting she can almost touch it.

  “Still, the thief remains at large,” Strong replies, turning towards Daphne and Dominic. “And now we know exactly who was behind this.”

  “Well, I don’t care about it.” Daphne shrugs, and it feels as if a five-ton Jumbo jet has been removed from my shoulders.

  As Dominic places one arm Daphne’s shoulders, he winks at me.

  “And I don’t care about pressing charges,” she continues, almost as if she had heard the conversation I was having with the detective. “All I care about is that the painting has been returned. As far as I’m concerned, this whole story is over.”

  “And there you have it, Detective.” I grin once more, already turning around and preparing to leave.

  A confused crowd starts gathering around me, but I couldn’t care less about any of these rich assholes. Let Strong explain to them what just happened.

  They probably won’t believe my story, which means some of these bastards are going to be pissed at Sonia…but, truth be told, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing a long trip across Europe won’t solve.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it...” I grin as I strut out of the gallery. “I have somewhere I have to be.”

  Dominic winks at me once more, and I give him a slight nod.

  He knows exactly who I’m meeting.

  One minute later, I’m walking out of Clarendon Tower, barely believing that Sonia and I are finally free.

  No more shady businesses casting their shadows over our relationship.

  No more cops.

  No more investigations.

  No more games.

  Now, all that’s left is getting her into my arms.

  I don’t even bother with getting the Aston from the underground garage, nor do I wait for my driver to bring the limo around. No, I just hop inside the first yellow
cab I see crossing the street and ask to be taken directly to the Grand Hyatt.

  The promise of a very large tip ensures that we zoom down the streets of New York at breakneck speed, and it doesn’t take long for the car to finally come to a halt.

  Even though my hair and clothes are completely drenched, I rush inside the Grand Hyatt, making a few heads turn my way. Immediately, I feel my heart start to race as I see Sonia waiting for me in the lobby. She’s wearing a black tight dress, one that fits her almost too perfectly, and there’s an anxious smile on her lips.

  She must’ve rushed here right after she set everything in motion, ensuring she wouldn’t be trapped by dozens of rich bastards with a grudge.

  Smart girl.

  “Are we—”

  “Free?” I complete her question as I close in on her, immediately wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in. “We’re free Sonia,” I whisper as I lean in, my lips desperately looking for hers.

  As our mouths meet, I close my eyes and let something I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before wrap itself around me.

  It’s happiness, but it’s a feeling so fucking intense that I can’t even begin to comprehend it. All I know is that this woman right in front of me has become larger than life in my eyes.

  I need her to survive, and I need her to thrive…

  She has all the love I have to offer, and I need her love more than I need the air to breathe.

  “Take me upstairs,” she whispers into my mouth. “I want to celebrate.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sonia

  The clothes come off in an instant.

  The moment we step inside my suite, we crash into each other in pure desperation. Our hands tear at the fabric of our clothing, fingertips running over smooth skin, and it doesn’t take long for us to find ourselves in bed, our naked bodies burning for each other.

  “I love you, Sonia,” he tells me, his hands cupping both my breasts as his lips find mine.

  “And I love you,” I whisper into his lips, immediately surrendering myself to him.

  As we kiss, our tongues dancing and wrestling at the same time, I slide my hand down his naked chest and only stop when I touch his stiff length.

  Curling my fingers around his cock, I start flicking my wrist fast, stroking him hard as I feel his desire for me growing.

  Mimicking my movements, he places one hand between my legs and presses his fingers against my pussy lips, his fingertips rubbing my wetness all over my skin.

  As he slides one finger inside my pussy and gently rests his thumb over my clit, I arch my back and start panting hard, electric sparks pinching my skin as pleasure blossoms inside me.

  “I want to...make you come...every single day...for the rest of your life,” he whispers between groans, his fingers tap-dancing on my pussy and making me lose all control.

  “I want that...so damn much,” I tell him as my lungs start working overtime.

  Hellbent on making me go insane, Malcolm then kneels between my legs and brings his lips down on my right nipple, wrapping them tight around my hard tip and gently sucking on it. I pant as I feel his kisses on my naked skin, his lips slowly tracing a downward line toward my pussy.

  When he reaches my waistline, I simply lose it. I raise my ass off the mattress and, tangling my fingers in his hair, I push his head down. I only rest when I feel his mouth pressed against my pussy, his tongue darting in and out of it, pushing its way past my drenched lips.

  “Fuck, Malcolm, you’re so good,” I moan as he laps at my clit with the tip of his tongue, pleasure already pooling inside me and threatening to break the dam of rationality.

  It doesn’t take long for that to happen.

  Yanking on Malcolm’s hair, I arch my back and let out a violent scream, one loud enough for everyone in New York City to hear. The shrill sound of my voice fills the whole room in an instant, pleasure turning into sound, and I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head as my mind is absorbed by an earth-shattering orgasm.

  By the time the final waves of pleasure are washing over me, my whole body is trembling. When I finally come to my senses, I open my eyes to realize that Malcolm is still between my legs...except his mouth is no longer focused on my pussy.

  Instead, he’s holding his cock in his hand, angling it down so that the tip is pointing straight at my entrance.

  “What are you waiting for?” I tease him as I lace my legs around his waist and pull him in.

  Throwing my arms over his shoulders, I force him to lie down on top of me, and then I moan against his ear as I feel his thick cock forcing its way inside my pussy.

  Instead of thrusting, Malcolm gently eases himself in, feeding his long inches inside my pussy until there are fireworks going off between my shut eyelids.

  “You’re so fucking tight, babe...I never get enough of it,” he groans as he starts picking up the pace, his hips moving rhythmically as he thrusts.

  I claw at his shoulder blades, my fingernails digging deep into his flesh, as I force him to go faster and faster.

  Obeying, he starts fucking me relentlessly, thrusting into me with such a fury that I feel my brain start to melt. My thoughts are like scattered leaves, and the only thing remaining inside my head is pure bliss.

  I don’t know if this enlightenment or what, but if it is...well, let’s just say that I won’t mind this kind of spiritual practice every day. Multiple times a day, in fact.

  “I’ll hold you to that promise…” I whisper into his ear as he fucks me, his cock sliding in and out of my pussy in a frenzy. “You’ll have to keep on making me come. Always. I want you to fuck me like this every single day for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t you worry, babe. There has never been a promise so easy to keep in the whole history of the world,” he tells me, placing his hands on the back of my knees and pulling me into him, burying his cock so fast inside of me that my moans turn into a continuous wild scream.

  Working on my clit with his fingers, all while thrusting inside me, he leans in and uses his free hand to grab my right breast. Pinching my nipple, he brings me to the edge of pleasure and oblivion...and then pushes me off it.

  “FUCK!” I shout as loud as I can, my whole body burning from the inside out.

  With my hands now on his ass, I force him to thrust as hard as he can, intent on having all his milky seed inside of me. As my first moan of ecstasy leaves my mouth, I feel his cock tensing up inside of me.

  It twitches once, twice, and then Malcolm groans and throws his head back, shooting his never-ending load deep inside me.

  I remain lying down, breathing hard as pleasure washes over me, a powerful orgasm making hostages of the two of us.

  “Fuck, that was incredible,” Malcolm whispers as his cock twitches one final time.

  Slowly, he pulls out and throws himself next to me. Lying side by side, I close my eyes and let my hand look for his. When I find it, I tangle my fingers with his and smile.

  Finally, I’m happy.

  Happy.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Malcolm

  Breakfast in Italy, dinner at Clarendon Tower.

  And tomorrow, lunch with Dominic and Daphne, who still haven’t resolved their apartment issues and still are battling out their issues while probably falling deeper in love.

  No, I’m not trying to make you jealous. I’m just trying to show you how amazing my life is. Sure, you already knew that, but a reminder never hurts, does it?

  Besides, how long has it been since that day at Clarendon Tower, when the Picasso was finally returned? It seems like it was a fucking lifetime ago.

  Jesus, right, it’s been a whole fucking year.

  At first, we thought that we needed to stay away to get some of the heat off Sonia. I mean she donated the watercolor. So, even someone completely clueless would have made the connection that she was the art thief.

  But it turns out that the crime was so elegant and the return was so amazing that not too man
y people at Clarendon Tower really held a grudge. And technically, it wasn’t even really stolen.

  It was more like stolen and given back, which meant there was no crime.

  “People actually are in love with you and Sonia here,” Dominic told me on the phone a month into our vacation.

  We were in Monaco and having the best time enjoying each other.

  Time sure flies when you’re having the time of your life. And there’s no mistaking it. This past year has been the best year in my entire life.

  In fact, I think I only started to really live the moment Sonia stepped into my life.

  All my life, I was never really alive... I was just surviving.

  Until she came crashing into my life.

  “Malcolm, you awake?” Sonia nudges me softly, pushing the sheets back and turning around to face me.

  Her hair is slightly disheveled, and she still has that half-asleep expression on her face—and still, she looks as beautiful as ever.

  That’s my wife: the most beautiful woman that has ever walked the earth.

  “I’m awake, yeah,” I whisper softly.

  “Will you check on him?”

  “Of course.” I place a kiss on her cheek and then, moving as silently as I can, I get up from the bed and tiptoe my way to the end of our master bedroom.

  There, I put my two hands on the railing of the small blue crib and peer inside. John is still fast asleep, his tiny hands gently clasped together. I stand there for a whole minute, watching his tiny chest rise and fall, and I shake my head softly.

  I can’t believe I’m a fucking father now.

  Right, didn’t I tell you? Shortly after we got married, we found out that Sonia was pregnant. And nine months later, a little John popped into our lives. Yeah, I know—I never thought someone like me would be the kind of man who’d be a good fit for a father, but now...

  Well, suffice to say, all I want is to be a good father. I think I’m already doing a good job as a husband, but now the stakes are higher. Much higher.