Chasing Alex

Chase Bradbury tread softly, yet swiftly, through the shadowed halls of the mansion, his eyes wide and focused on his surroundings. In the midnight hours, the house was dim and eerily silent, but not even the black of night could dull the exquisiteness of the building. The floors were a cream tile, polished so well that it still gave off a shine despite the darkness; large oval windows lined the walls, framed with deep velvet drapes; and a sizeable glass chandelier hung flamboyantly from the ceiling. It was a display of wealth, rather than a home.

He moved with determination to the upper level of the house, in the direction of the master bedrooms where his target slept, blissfully unaware of what was headed his way. Alex Fontaine had stolen 1.5 million dollars from him and the bastard was going to return every single cent and then pray to god he lived to see another day. Chase had never even met the man, but he'd heard stories from his colleagues of a nameless, faceless man who somehow managed to sneak into the most secure safes and clean out their contents, before disappearing into thin air. Antique paintings, rare jewels, historic documents; Chase considered himself lucky to have only lost the contents of one of his bank accounts, rather than one of his valuable possessions. However, that didn't mean the man would be punished any less for his thieving. Chase prided himself on being a man people feared and respected. Unlike his colleagues, he hadn't been born into riches. He'd spent decades working his way up from the bottom, doing the dirty work for other men, until he could set his own path. Those who were acquainted with him knew he was not a man to be crossed.

The man who had stolen from him was either stupid, or he had a death wish. After a few months of digging, Chase had managed to find a trail that pointed directly to an Alex Fontaine, residing at xxxx Birkham Street. And so here he was, ready to deliver justice to the man himself.

He signalled from the top of the stairs an all clear to the men who accompanied him; his two right hand men whom he trusted with his life. He wasn't so dense as to think a man like Fontaine wouldn't have security measures in place. Chase was a man who did his own dirty work, regardless of how much wealth he came to obtain. That being said, he knew when he needed back up.

He waited silently as his oldest friend, Gabe, moved stealthily up the stairs and then into a shadowed corner of the hall. Gabe glanced around quickly, before signalling to Spencer to proceed.

As Spencer began to follow, movement at the other end of the hallway caught Chase's eye.

At first, he thought he'd imagined the woman; she was a vision of elegance, a petite frame with dainty curves wrapped delicately in a silky white night gown. Her slightly dishevelled brown hair framed an angelic face and fell in long, lush waves down her back. She shuffled tiredly, rubbing at her eyes, and Chase cursed as he realised she was headed straight into Spencer's path, the idiot not even remotely aware of her presence. Gabe, too, had noticed her and he threw Chase a panicked look before motioning desperately toward Spencer, but it was too late.

The woman startled as she came across the large, burly figure on the stairway. She looked momentarily confused by his presence, before fear crossed her features and she opened her mouth to scream.

Chase moved quickly as the scene unfolded. He darted behind her and clamped a firm hand over her mouth before any sound could escape her. His other arm snaked around her tiny waist, holding her tightly in place as she fought for escape. The warmth of her body radiated through the soft silk of her gown as she squirmed in his grasp and he groaned internally as she unknowingly kneaded the round of her ass against his groin. He tightened his grip around her, digging his large forearm forcefully into her ribs. It was enough pressure to hurt her without causing significant pain, and she grunted into his palm before finally stilling.

Spencer approached, and pulled a gun from behind his back, not aiming it, but just making its presence known. Chase knew it had the desired effect, as the woman began to tremble beneath his arms. He placed his mouth to her ear and spoke low.

"Make a sound, and he will kill you. Do you understand?"

The woman bobbed her head, the rest of her body still shaking fearfully. Guilt built quickly in the pit of his stomach and he almost wanted to tell her that they wouldn't really shoot an innocent woman, but he couldn't afford to have her wake the rest of the household. He wasn't even sure exactly how many people resided there. He'd managed to uncover a name and an address, but not much more on the ghost of a man that was Alex Fontaine. The woman he held in his arms could be Fontaine's wife, lover, daughter, or something else entirely.

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, keeping his arm in its position around her waist. From the way she was trembling, his arm may well have been the only thing keeping her upright in that moment, and although he wouldn't admit it, he was rather enjoying the feel of her body tightly pressed against his.

"I'm looking for Alex Fontaine," he murmured softly into her ear. "Tell me which room he's in."

Spencer kept his gun in her eye-line, but held it low, so as not to over-frighten the girl.

"H-He's..." she struggled to get her sentence out and Chase loosened his grip ever so slightly.

"It's okay," he gently encouraged, "we're not going to hurt you if you tell us what we want to know."

She nodded and found her voice again. "My brother is in Milan on vacation. I'm not sure when he'll be back. P-please let me go..."

Milan? Fuck. He nodded to Gabe who had remained concealed in the shadows, giving him the cue to check the rooms and confirm the girl's words. He knew, without even looking, there would be an I-told-you-so expression on his friend's face. Gabe had insisted they wait a few days to assess the man's daily routines before making their move, but they'd spent so long tracking him down that Chase didn't want to risk him slipping away when they were so close to catching him.

He breathed in the scent of the woman in his arms while he waited. Every motion her head made sent a sweet and floral fragrance his way, and he longed to roam his hands over the subtle curves of her warm body. She shifted slightly within his grasp, trying to see what they were waiting on, but Chase caught her chin between his fingertips before she could catch sight of Gabe. Best for her to identify as few of them as possible.

"Be still, girl," he warned. "What's your name?"

"Olivia," she responded, with slight agitation in her voice. She pulled her chin from his grasp, but obeyed him and did not spare a glance behind her. He smiled, pleased that she'd built up some courage despite her disposition. "What do you want from my brother?"

Chase considered leaving her question unanswered, but there was no real harm in her knowing the truth. "He stole something from me and I'm here to take it back."

He felt her increase of breath as her chest rose and fell beneath his forearm. "Are you going to hurt him?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.

The emotion in her soft words made him wish there was a way he could leave her brother unharmed. But the man had stolen from him, and he needed to set an example for anyone else who might do the same. Thankfully, Gabe returned in time to save him answering her question.

"Empty." He confirmed, to Chase's dismay. "What now?"

Spencer glanced down the stairs. "I say we get the fuck out of here before the security realise we're here."

Chase mulled it over. He could search the house for any valuable items or links to where Fontaine had stored the money, but to do so without drawing the attention of the security downstairs would be risky, and the chances he would find anything worthwhile were slim. Spencer was right, they needed to get the fuck out of there. Besides, he realised he already had something worthwhile fidgeting in his arms.

"Okay. Same way we came in," he ordered, "Move." He felt Olivia's body relax, relief overcoming her. However, when he maintained his hold on her as he approached the stairs, she began to struggle.

"What are you-?" He clamped his hand back over her mouth to stop her mid-sentence.

Spencer threw him a questioning look.

"I'll need leverage if we want to catch Fontaine."

Olivia, quickly realising the meaning behind his words, began to squirm frantically and she screamed desperately into his palm. The sound was mostly muffled, but he knew once they reached the bottom of the stairs the sound would bounce off every wall on the floor level, alerting the security.

"For fuck's sake," he hissed, beckoning to Spencer for support as the girl's elbows and knees flailed at him wildly.

Spencer lifted his gun and brought the handle of it down firmly against the back of the girl's head with a soft thud. She went limp in Chase's arms and he frowned angrily up at Spencer, "What the fuck was that?"

Spencer shrugged, "How else was I supposed to shut her up?"

Chase touched his hand to the girl's head where the gun had made contact and cursed as he felt a small amount of blood weeping from her scalp. "Any option that didn't involve causing the poor girl brain damage would have been fucking fine!" He growled.

Spencer snorted, "An ice pack and some aspirin, and she'll be grand. Don't forget, that poor girl is the sister of the man who stole your damn money. Honestly, Chase, I never thought you'd be the type to soften over a pretty face and a nice set of legs."

It was lucky Chase's hands were holding Olivia up, or he likely would have punched his friend square in the nose. Anger bubbled hot in his chest. "One more word, Spence, and I swear to God you'll need more than an ice pack and aspirin after I'm done with you."

Gabe rolled his eyes at the two of them. "Will you two quit your damn bickering?" he said gruffly, "The girl will be fine, Chase. Let's get the hell out of here." Chase lifted Olivia easily over his shoulder and quickly followed his friends out the side door they had broken in through and to the safety of their car.

***

Chase poured himself a large glass of whiskey and glanced down at the woman atop his bed. She lay like a porcelain doll, her delicate features peaceful in the forced sleep his friend had given her. He'd cleaned the injury on her head, and was thankful to find that it hadn't been a deep wound. Of course, that hadn't stopped him from blasting Spencer the entire ride home for his carelessness. He sighed heavily. Stealing Olivia hadn't been his intention, but he'd panicked when Fontaine wasn't in the house. At least this way he had a chance to bargain with the man; his sister in return for the money he'd stolen.

He hadn't had the chance to examine her properly during their exchange in her home, but now he had the luxury of taking in the full sight of her, and she was simply breathtaking. She looked to be in her early-twenties; a tiny waif of a woman, with subtle curves that nicely complemented her lithe figure. Her flawless skin and freshly manicured nails told him she lived a privileged life, though the house he had stolen her from had been evidence enough of that. He took a seat at the edge of the bed, his weight on the mattress causing her to stir.

When her eyelids fluttered open, a pair of dazzling green eyes met his, and they quickly registered pain and then fear. She sat upright and shuffled backward, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

"Where am I?" She demanded, her eyes darting frantically around the room. It was a large master bedroom, but really more of a living room than a bedroom, with a small bar and seating area in the adjoining room. It was rarely occupied by anyone other than himself, and the occasional women he invited in for a bit of enjoyment.

"You're in my bedroom," Chase responded, watching her carefully from the end of the bed. He could tell she was familiarising herself with her surroundings and likely determining the location of her nearest exit.

"And where exactly is that?" She asked.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that." Even though the door to his master suite was locked with one of the most complex security systems money could buy, he determined it wouldn't be wise to share her exact whereabouts when he planned on ransoming her off to her brother.

She nodded calmly, taking the time to process his words. Then, without warning, she threw herself from the bed and bolted towards the door. Expecting her retreat, Chase caught her by the waist and carried her back towards the bed.

"No!" She screamed, her bare feet kicking into his stomach with an impressive amount of strength for such a small woman. He tilted his hips away from her swinging leg, only just avoiding a blow to his groin, then tossed her firmly onto the mattress.

"Stop!" He growled angrily. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

She stilled, leaning back against the headboard, and breathed heavily. "You mean, you're not going to..." she pulled self-consciously at her night gown, covering up her exposed legs.

He frowned. Of course, the woman though he'd brought her here to fuck her, why else would he have placed her in his bedroom? He'd admit, the moment he'd laid her unconscious body onto his mattress, his mind had filled with all kinds of sinful images of her spread out beneath him, her perfect face contorted with pleasure as he took her. But the implication that he would force her dissipated those thoughts completely.

He frowned, "No, Olivia. I don't take women to bed against their will."

She relaxed slightly, though she didn't look fully convinced.

"The only reason you're in my bedroom is because I thought you might have had a concussion and I wanted you to rest comfortably."

Her hand felt out the bump on the back of her head and she winced at the contact.

"May I?" He collected a bowl from the bedside table and pulled a small bag of ice from it.

She eyed him with suspicion before nodding. He moved slowly to sit beside her, and wrapped the ice in a dry wash cloth before placing it gently to her head. She frowned and examined the features of his face, while he studied her in return. Those green eyes reflected intelligence, something he hadn't expected. He'd had to endure countless hours in the company of upper class women; those who had inherited a fortune, those who had married into a fortune, and in rare cases, those who had created their own fortune. The vast majority of them were vain and pompous creatures, with little intelligible conversation to offer. He hadn't yet had the chance to engage in full conversation with Olivia, and yet he was already eager to hear what her mind had to offer. He watched as her eyes roamed the contours of his face, before she blushed slightly and her eyes fell to her lap. It wasn't the first time he'd had that effect on a woman. He'd found out early on, as a straggly adolescent boy, that his face was appealing, and as he'd aged and built on his physique, his confidence with women, and his professional life had grown considerably.

He used his index finger to lift her chin, bringing her focus back to him. "I need you to tell me where your brother is staying in Milan," he said gently.

She swallowed and took the ice from his hand, her soft fingertips brushing against his in the exchange. "You're going to use me to get back what he stole from you," she murmured.

He lowered his hand and nodded. "The sooner you cooperate with me, the sooner I'll be able to take you home."

She considered his words for a moment, before lifting her chin, the motion accentuating the loveliness of her jawline. "I'll cooperate," she said firmly, "as soon as I have your word that Alex will not be harmed."

He smiled, admiring the girl's assertion. Most in her place would be a blubbering mess, but she was proving to be stronger than he'd expected. It was intriguing. So much so that he almost wanted to give her what she wanted. Almost.

"I've spent months of my time tracking your brother down in order to retrieve the money he took from me, and during that time I've also lost a significant amount of interest that would have been accumulated in that bank account. If I can't make an example of the man, what can you offer me instead?"

Surprise registered on her features, and he smiled internally, loving that he'd caught her unawares. She had such an expressive, readable face, and he watched with enjoyment as she mulled his question over in her mind.

"How much did he take? I'll offer you double to leave him unharmed."

He smirked, "I don't want your money, sweetheart."

Her brow creased. "What about other valuables? We have a number of antique items that I'm sure would interest you."

"Antique items?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I know your kind; you enjoy having such rarities in your possession. It makes you feel powerful."

It was true, he did own a number of rare valuables that he highly regarded, some of which he had spent years of time and effort to obtain, but he hated that she'd likened him to others. He was his own man, and didn't take well to being categorised.

His eyes roamed over the length of her body. "Right now, there's only one rarity I want to possess," he said darkly.

He watched as a deep blush rose from her chest, to her neck, and right up to her ears. She bit her bottom lip nervously, an innocent gesture on her behalf, but one that he found completely erotic. He wanted nothing more than to taste those full lips for himself.

"Would it save my brother if I offered you that?" She asked bashfully, and the question from her sweet lips made the blood rush straight to his groin. He didn't believe her for a second.

"I told you already, Olivia, I don't bed women against their will."

She looked up at him then, her gorgeous green eyes wide and innocent. "If I offer it to you, then it will not be against my will."

He had to hold in the groan that he ached to release at her offer. She was playing with him, she had to be. He warred with himself internally; it would be wrong of him to take her while she was in this vulnerable position. But then, perhaps he affected her just as much as she affected him. He stared at her for a moment, taking in her flushed skin, wide eyes, and slightly open mouth. There was only one way to tell.

He closed the distance between them, and pressed his lips slowly to hers. His nose gently brushed against her cheek, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent. She let out a tiny gasp at his bold move, but then, to his surprise, she closed her eyes and began kissing him back. He smiled into her mouth as her lips began to mimic the movement of his, and she leaned into him, seeking out more. He wasn't going to disappoint. His hand came around the back of her neck, urging her closer, as he kissed her more urgently. She tasted even better than she looked. Her hands found his chest, and desperately gripped the material of his shirt. He growled low, and slipped his tongue between her lips, tasting, taking, claiming her mouth fully. She was intoxicating.

When her palms flattened against his chest and pushed him firmly away from her, he groaned desperately. "You're killing me, woman."

He took in her flushed, breathless state and felt his arousal straining at the zip of his pants.

"Do we have a deal?" She asked dazedly.

He certainly wasn't about to back out. Now that he'd tasted her lips, he was eager to taste the rest of her body; every single inch of her. He nodded. "You have my word. Provided your brother returns the money with adequate interest, and you spend the next 24 hours with me, he won't be harmed."