Read Steal: A Bad Boy Romance Online
Authors: D.G. Whiskey
Steal: A Bad Boy Romance (18 page)
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Included in this copy of
Steal
is the Devereux novella
Capturing
Liberty
. If you have not read it yet, continue on for the full novella.
CAPTURING LIBERTY
A DEVEREUX NOVELLA
D.G. WHISKEY
COPYRIGHT © 2015 D.G. WHISKEY
ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
DESCRIPTION
Stephen
Devereux has just moved to New York City and flexes the power of his wealth by
saving model/waitress Liberty from a Wall Street asshole.
Their
whirlwind romance sweeps Liberty along but she refuses to give up her
independence and goals as she fights to make it as a model. When a modeling gig
goes wrong, Liberty has to fight for freedom and to be reunited with the man
she's come to love.
TABLE OF
CONTENTS
CAPTURING LIBERTY
“Be a good girl
and get us another round of scotch, will you doll?”
The man’s voice was superior,
patronizing, and he had a smug grin on his face. Either of those I could have
put up with, but I drew the line when paired with his hand sliding down my back
to squeeze my ass in the tight black dress all waitresses had to wear at
Dorgo’s
.
I slapped his hand away. “Please don’t
touch me.”
The slack-jawed look on his face and
low whistles from the other men at the table lit a fierce satisfaction within
me. It didn’t last long.
“Did you fucking hit my hand?” He stood
up from his chair. He wasn’t a tall man, but I wasn’t a tall woman and the
flush in his face
signaled
that this was a man given
to outbursts of anger.
“You’ve been making inappropriate
remarks and advances for the past several hours. They aren’t welcome, and I
want you to stop.”
His nostrils flared. He might have been
handsome, but his actions over the course of my shift and his state of
inebriation filled me with disgust and distaste.
“I’m paying over fifty bucks a drink.
If I want to put my hand on your ass, then I’ll put my hand on your ass,” he
said. He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him, gripping my ass in his other
hand so hard it hurt.
“Get off me!” I struggled against him,
but he was too strong. It was hard to look around the bar with my motion
restricted, and I saw none of the other servers. The group had snagged one of
the more secluded tables in the classy Wall Street cocktail bar. Situations
like this didn’t happen at
Dorgo’s
.
The man pulled me even harder against
him. “I’ll do whatever I want. Hell, if I wanted to take you home tonight then
you’ll come with me, and like it.”
“Paul, let her go, man.” The other men
at the table looked uncomfortable, but weren’t in any hurry to get up from
their seats and help me.
“Don’t be such a fucking pussy, Grant.
We own this town and we can do what we want.” The aggressor turned back and
stared at me. “I want to teach her a lesson for being a frigid bitch.”
Words stuck in my throat. I should have
been screaming, or calling for help, or struggling with all my might, but shock
paralyzed me and I watched the scene unfold like a big screen movie. Somehow I
was detached from it all, unable to believe it was happening.
A hand reached past me to shove hard
against Paul’s chest at the same time another wrapped around my waist to wrench
me from his arms. Paul stumbled back a few paces and almost fell, catching
himself on his chair at the last moment.
For the second time in as many minutes
a male body held me tight, but the hand on me was gentle and he smelled nice.
When I looked up, I saw a
chiseled
face and high
cheekbones under a set of dark green eyes that stared at the man who’d been
assaulting me.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Paul shouted, having regained his feet.
The man who shoved him looked down at
me, his eyes softening from their deadly glare when our gazes met. “Are you
okay?” he asked, ignoring the belligerent man a few paces away.
“I’m not hurt,” I said. “Thank you.”
He withdrew his arm once I’d regained
my balance, leaving me to stand on my own. His chin jutted out as he turned
back to Paul. “Why the hell would you do that to a woman only talking to you
because of her job and clearly wants nothing to do with you?”
Paul took a step forward in what he
must have intended to be a threatening gesture. My
savior
didn’t appear too concerned—he was taller and better built than the drunk
asshole, and Paul had to focus to even put his feet forward in the right order.
“I can do whatever I want here,” Paul
said. “Do you know who I am? I fucking run this town, you piece of shit. I’m
worth four hundred million dollars and run one of the biggest hedge funds on
the planet. You’ll pay for laying a hand on me, you and that fucking bitch.”
I shivered. The perk of working at
Dorgo’s
was all the rich bankers and hedge fund managers
who came to talk shop and tipped well. The downside was coming into contact
with megalomaniac jackasses who thought they could get away with anything
because they were rich.
Problem was, they were right.
Other patrons of the bar had taken
notice of the altercation—every table in the exclusive section of the bar
featured all eyes toward the spectacle. I couldn’t blame them—I had seen
nothing like it in the few months I’d worked there.
“You’ll want to watch who you run your
mouth off to. One of these days it’ll get you into trouble. It might even be
today.” The self-assured tone of the man at my side forced me to give him
another look.
There wasn’t anything in particular
that stood out about him other than his aristocratic features. His face could
have been carved by a Roman sculptor. A well-tailored suit showed off his
athletic form, but every man in the establishment wore similar clothing. His
age wasn’t clear, but he couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five to
Paul’s early forties.
“Are you threatening me, boy?” Paul
asked. “I can ruin you quicker than you could imagine. I have more powerful
friends than you even know exist. You better get out of my sight and be happy
I’m letting you off that easy.”
I looked back toward the bar and caught
John’s eyes. The supervisor also worked the bar during the week, and the flood
of customers had died down enough for him to notice the tense atmosphere in our
direction. I waved to get his attention and gestured to come over.
“How much did you say you were worth
again—four hundred million dollars? I’ll tell you what, here’s what we’ll
do.” The man at my side reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a deck of
cards. “How about we each cut the deck, and the person who loses has to pay the
other four hundred million dollars.”
Stunned silence met his words.
Is he serious?
A tidal wave of whispers ran through
the onlookers. John had reached the group just as the man proposed the wager,
and his jaw dropped so low it looked like he had dislocated it.
“Cut for four hundred million dollars?”
Paul’s face whitened. “There’s no way you have that kind of money. What do you
think I am, a fool? If I win you’ll just run away and I’ll never see a dime.”
“If you agree, then we’ll find a third
party we both trust to escrow. With the number of wealthy bankers in this bar,
it shouldn’t be difficult.”
Paul stared at him. “You can’t be
serious.”
The sound of shuffling cards was his
only response. His opponent’s face was granite, giving nothing away.
Gears turned in Paul’s head, thoughts
flitting behind his eyes. Greed, and fear. The chance to double his fortune, or
walk away with nothing. He hadn’t gotten where he was without an appetite for
gambling.
“Fuck you,” he finally said. “This is
madness. Who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Stephen Devereux. If you
aren’t willing to man up, then get the fuck out of here and let us enjoy our
night.”
Paul’s friends
had enough. What began as an interesting diversion for them turned into a
serious clash. Grant tugged on Paul’s arm, “Let’s go, there’s no point hanging
around here any longer.”
With no choice, Paul let himself be
ushered out of the bar by his group. His stare never left Stephen—it
promised pain for the humiliation he’d suffered in front of so many of his
peers and the city’s wealthy elite. Then his eyes locked on me for the last few
seconds before he exited the lounge area and I couldn’t help but shiver. I’d
never seen such hatred before.
“Are you sure you’re all right? What’s
your name?” Stephen asked me, his hand on my elbow.
John raised an eyebrow at me in
question, and I nodded. He went back to the bar.
“I’m much better now, thank you so
much,” I said. “I’m Liberty. I don’t know where you came from, but that was
amazing the way you stared him down like that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, as
though he’d done nothing more than hold a door open. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Help? That was incredible! At least
let me get you a drink on the house.”
I led Stephen to the bar and told John
to treat him to the very best for as long as he wanted to stay.
“Are you here with friends or
colleagues?”
He shook his head. “No, I heard this
was an interesting gathering place for the wealthy bankers, so I thought I
would check it out. I’m new in town, still trying to get my bearings.”
Stephen intrigued me and I felt
grateful, but I also had a job I was on the clock for. Losing tips from Paul’s
table would hurt, but even worse was them not paying their tab before they
left. It would have to come out of my pocket, but I’d rather pay it than have
that cancerous
tumor
sitting in my section for the
rest of my shift.
There was another hour left before I
could go home, and by the time I’d closed out my tables I’d gotten enough tips
to break even on the night after paying for the drinks at Paul’s table. When I
checked in with John, he waved off the payment.
“It’s already paid for, Liberty. The
same guy who saved you felt responsible for that table and he offered to pay it
off, plus tip. I wouldn’t have made you pay for it anyway, considering the
circumstances.”
I’d been so grateful for Stephen’s
help, but now I was just embarrassed. There was no sign of him at the bar. It
would have been nice to thank him again and say goodbye. “He paid for the whole
thing? I can’t believe I got him involved in that mess. That Paul character
looked like he will do everything in his power to get revenge for the way
Stephen showed him up.”
John shrugged. “He wouldn’t take no for
an answer, Liberty, I tried. I got the feeling he would leave a few hundred
dollar bills lying around if I refused to take his money. I wouldn’t worry
about Paul, I’ve seen him around a few times and he’s a big tool when he’s
drinking but he’ll come to his senses in the morning. It’s not like he’ll
pursue a personal vendetta for an altercation at a bar.”
Based on his vitriolic stare as he
left, I disagreed but didn’t bother taking the conversation any further. I
wanted to go home and get to sleep.
I’d almost gotten to the door when a
familiar hand on my side turned me. Stephen stood there, his height making me
feel tiny but not in a threatened way.
“Leaving now?” he asked. His voice was
pleasantly low, and smooth as silk. Much different than it had been while
confronting Paul.
“Yes, shift’s over,” I said, smiling.
“Thanks again for earlier, I should see if I can get a bat light installed in
case I ever need you again.”
He laughed. “That would be something.
Would you mind if I walk you home tonight? I don’t know if that asshole would
try to do anything to you after leaving the bar, but I’d never forgive myself
if he did something and I wasn’t there to prevent it.”
Walk
me home?
Stephen
was tall, good looking and well-off. And that voice! Could I refuse the offer?
The thought of Paul waiting out there had crossed my mind, and Stephen made me
feel safe.
“I’d like that.”
We left the building and strolled along
Wall Street, taking the right along William. The sky was dark and a few faint
rumbles rolled across the city.
“How far away do you live?” he asked.
“Do you walk or should we take an
Uber
?”
“It’s a little far, but not too bad.
We’ll be fine.” I looked at him sideways, trying to get a fix on him. “You said
you’re new in town?”
“Oh yes, just got in a week or two ago.
I’ve been to New York before, but only for the occasional weekend here and
there, not to live.”
“Do you mind if I ask what you do?” It
wasn’t often I met someone willing to throw away four hundred million dollars
to prove a point.
He took longer to respond than I
expected. “I’m trying to figure that part out. I went to school to be a
surgeon, and I enjoyed medical school and learning so much about the human
body. Surgeons work a ton of hours, though, and once the money is taken out of
the equation it’s no longer as appealing a proposition. New York seemed like
the perfect place for reflection and finding myself, so here I am.”
A
surgeon, too?
Stephen was a never-ending surprise. “Why did you go to
school for it if you didn’t want to do it after graduating?”
“The money I came into was a surprise,”
he said. “To be honest, I never dreamed I’d never have to work for a living.”
“Where did it come from?”
His story enthralled me. How does
someone come into what must be billions of dollars and not know it’s coming?
“I can’t share that,” he said. “It’s
not that I don’t trust you, but I can’t tell anyone. At least not yet.”
Damn,
that’s mysterious.
“What else do you do for fun besides rescuing
damsels in distress?” I asked. I wanted him to keep talking so I could listen
to that voice more.
He chuckled. “Well, I like taking
photos. It was something I wanted to go to school for, but practicality won
out. Knowing what I do now, I may have done things differently.”
Interest piqued, I walked a little
closer to him. “What kinds of photos?” Our legs brushed against each other
every few steps, the fine material of his suit pants against the length of leg
left exposed by the short dress I wore.
“Mainly portraits and people, although
I dabble in landscapes and anything that interests me. I have a big space in my
apartment here I’m planning on turning into a studio.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” I said. “And
there’s no reason you shouldn’t get back into doing something you love.”
He gave me a sidelong look. “Have you
ever sat for a shoot before? You are stunning.”
My cheeks flamed from the compliment.
“Oh, thank you! Funny you say that, I came to Manhattan hoping to model, but no
luck yet.”
“Are you serious?” he asked. “That
doesn’t make any sense—with looks like yours all the agencies should fall
over themselves to sign you to a contract. Mind if I take a look at your
portfolio?”
Now my cheeks
colored
from embarrassment. “I don’t have much of one, just a couple head shots I got a
friend to take back home.” I pulled my phone out and pulled up the pictures
before handing it to Stephen.
“Oh,” he said as he flipped through the
album. “These… are terrible. No wonder you aren’t getting any attention if this
is the first thing agencies are seeing.”
I knew they weren’t the best, but his
reaction seemed a little harsh. “They aren’t
that
bad.”
“Liberty, these are awful. Taken with a
crappy cell phone camera, and the lighting is just plain brutal. These agencies
are looking for the
creme
of the crop, they won’t
waste time with someone who hasn’t even taken the effort to put their best foot
forward.”
He looked at me in silence for a few
steps. “What would you say to me taking a few shots of you to use going
forward? I’d love to get back into it, and I promise you they’ll look a hell of
a lot better than what you’ve been using. I obviously wouldn’t charge you
anything, it’s not like I need your money.”
No actual photographer had looked at
the head shots before.
If
they’re that bad… maybe that’s why I’ve been seeing no success sending my
information to agencies.
Could I trust Stephen to do a shoot
with him? What did I have to lose? Even if he made a move on me, he was
handsome and wealthy and seemed like a genuinely good guy. Maybe I wanted him
to make a move.
“I’d appreciate that,” I said. “I could
use any help I can get.”
He texted himself from my phone so we
had each other’s number before handing it back.
“I’ll send you a message tomorrow and
we can set something up. I have a designer friend who might need a shoot done
for her latest work, I’ll touch base with her.”
“Stephen, that would be-”
A crack of thunder split the night and
cut me off, and the darkening clouds overhead opened up. Fat raindrops splashed
all around and pelted us with water.
“Shit!” I said. “We’re just around the
corner from my place, hold on.” I grabbed Stephen’s hand and pulled him along
with me, running as fast as I could in the tall heels I’d worn for my shift.
Stephen laughed as we ran and hopped over
puddles, and the sound was contagious. A smile split my face wide open until I
couldn’t hold it anymore and laughter rocked my body as we ran through the
abandoned, soggy streets.
By the time I slowed to a stop in front
of my building the downpour had soaked us. The rain was warm, a soaking summer
thunderstorm. The already tight black dress now clung to me like a second skin,
the waterlogged fabric conforming to my body in a way that wouldn’t leave much
to the imagination.
“This is me,” I said through the
puffing as I tried to catch my breath. I looked up into his dark green eyes.
“Thank you for walking me home.”
He put his hands on my lower back,
leaning close until our faces were right next to each other. With one more
traded look, our lips met, his mouth hungry and devouring my own.
Lightning cracked against the sky and
the rain poured even harder. I drowned in a sea of sensation as water ran
through my hair and down my body, sensuously touching every part of me as I
lost myself in the man in front of me.
His hands traveled up my back, bringing
me in closer, our kiss deepening and awakening a fire within me. My heart rate
had no time to recover after the sprint, instead being driven higher by the
skilled mouth, tongue and hands of Stephen.
When we broke apart, his right hand was
buried in my hair and his left gently held my ass.
“It was excellent meeting you,
Liberty.” The way he said my name was an intimate caress.
Invite
him up!
It had been a few months since I’d been with a man, and I knew if I took Stephen
in with me I wouldn’t be disappointed. The urge was primal, battling against
the small town rearing that told me not to be so promiscuous. I struggled with
the decision.
Then I lost the initiative.
“Good night,” he smiled and turned
away, swallowed up by the blackness as he walked.
A part of me wanted to scream after
him, but just like earlier in the bar I couldn’t get the words out until it was
too late.