Shadows of Deception Ch. 02

She was still recovering from the initial shock of his 180 in mood, "Oh,kitten, I take my time with women. After a half hour, we'd only be getting started. I can bevery insatiable." His tone dropped and his words hung in the air between them.

Roman Aurelius was a killer. She'd seen it. And he kept company with men like Mercer whose lengthy criminal record she had seen firsthand. But he was also a businessman and he was viewing this as a business transaction. Nothing more. One that allowed her to keep her head. And there were certainly worse devils to make deals with.

Despite the countless tabloids that featured stories of Roman Aurelius' extravagant tantrums, there was no denying that he was drop-dead gorgeous--a truly handsome devil, indeed. She didn't know what to say, what Roman was proposing was both highly illegal and highly dangerous and she was sort of stuck. Was she supposed to confirm what he was asking, did she ask if he was going to kill her when he was done?

"So, what do you say, kitten?"

He could see the turbulence in her eyes and with one of his hands brushed her hair out of her face and he lifted her chin slightly.

"Can you do this?" He was looking hard at her now, like there was a flash of uncertainty on his part, maybe he was contemplating changing his mind. "Think you can look the police in the eye and convincingly lie to them? That you never saw Jimmy? That you let all your common sense go out the window and get involved with a man like me? Can you pull offinnocent?"

At his last word, she scoffed loudly, shaking her head.

"You know what living here all my life has taught me?" He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Nobody's innocent."

"That's beautiful, I need that on a shirt or a keychain." The fact that she managed to draw what seemed to be a reaction of genuine amusement made her feel a little bigger than she was.

"What about you? You're the career criminal. Can you really convince the cops that's what happened? Are youthat good of an actor?" she asked skeptically. "I mean, come on, the cops are useless but they're not completely stupid. Why stop that revolving door for just one woman?"

Roman smirked, taking on the role of a skilled storyteller, as the words flowed effortlessly from his lips, he took a theatrical step back, extending his hand to her as if inviting her to dance. There was an undeniable glimmer in his eyes, impossible to resist his charisma, and Belladonna didn't even realize she was already reaching out to take his hand, far too drawn into his world. In one fluid motion, he pulled her against his chest, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"Oh, angel, you've got it all wrong. Allow Roman to set the scene for you," He purred, his charming smile deepening, as if he was about to weave a spell around her. Leaning in, he began his tale with the finesse of a master manipulator.

"Picture it, my club, a mundane night draped in monotony, the drinks devoid of flavor, the music a mere echo, and the crowd; a sea of lifeless mannequins. And I see it every night. I'm on the verge of calling it quits, drowning in boredom, until destiny intervenes... And I catch a glimpse of an intruder in my world, sneaking into the back where she doesn't belong." His tone was slightly accusatory, accompanied by a hard look.

"I'm already in a pissy mood, irritation fills me, so I head back there to handle this slightpersonally, to toss you out and maybe give you a lifetime ban, but imagine my surprise when I see, it's not just some drunken club girl looking for a fun hookup and the extra booze we keep,oh no, it's an angel. And she's a pretty thing and I'm softening up a bit, thinking maybe I'll let you off with a warning. But as soon as our eyes lock," He punctuated the word with a click of his tongue.

"I'm sucked in by that smoldering gaze and those plush, tempting lips drawing me in, not to mention thatdangerous little red dress you're wearing," Roman sucked in a breath, with a sly shake of his head, as if banishing a fleeting thought, continued his narrative. "I've got butterflies, even."

"Just one kiss. That's all it takes." He whispered, his lips hovering just a breath away, lips teasingly close enough for a real one. "The moment our lips touched, I knew I was hooked. You were like a hit of something wild, my own personal brand of heroine, the smoothest green I've ever inhaled, the smoothest drink I've ever had. It felt fated; an undeniable connection."

While Roman spoke, he slowly danced them through the kitchen, leading Belladonna until she found herself pressed against the counter once again. "That kiss of yours, angel, has me all riled up, it's too good, so I need another. Then another, and another. I'm tempted to throw caution to the winds, toss you against a convenient wall, and give into our mutual desires. We can't seem to get enough of each other."

He grinned, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, well aware of the effect his words were having on her. "You're practically climbing on top of me, but you see, I've got those pesky rules of mine." He playfully 'tsked' at her, fully aware of the tease he was orchestrating. "No workplace trysts for me, but I won't leave a sweet angel like you hanging. Angels deserve to be cared for, don't they? So with you pinned against that wall, I make sure you're left breathless without breaking any of my rules."

His index finger traced the outline of her lips as he continued, "In just a mere thirty minutes, I have you unraveling with nothing but my fingers, saying my name, moaning at how good I make you feel. And once my angel comes back down from cloud nine, I send her home safely, in my private car with my driver.Satisfied, hungry for more, eagerly anticipating my call."

His voice was a seductive whisper, and Belladonna found herself lost in his words, feeling the weight of his fictitious desire for her. In that moment, she understood the art of storytelling, how he could weave a narrative so captivating that it made her own heart race. The connection between them felt as undeniable as Roman intoned, and for a moment, she allowed herself to be swept away in the enchantment of their story.

His tone became more dramatic as he continued as though he were pitching a romance novel, he concluded with a confident grin, "Angel, with a narrative as captivating as that, not only will the authorities buy it, but the entire city will be enraptured, eagerly anticipating the unfolding of events."

"Holy shit." She paused, regaining a bit of composure that had shaken slightly in the trance of Roman's storytelling "You can do that?"

"Please. The irresistible charm of a powerful man like myself utterly captivated by a stunning woman like you will become the town's most captivating gossip. With all eyes on us, the authorities won't bother probing any further."

"Because you're Roman freaking Aurelius?"

"Because I'm Roman freaking Aurelius, baby."

Roman let her hand go and relished the look on her face, he'd shaken her and he knew it. No doubt men like Roman fed off of that power over people, but his own expression fell when a steely look came over her face, one that he hadn't seen. Like she was remembering that she wasn't some stupid doe-eyed one-night stand. His expression transformed into one of visible shock as she decisively seized the front of his shirt, tugging him closer with unexpected force.

"Well, I'mBelladonna fucking Black," she declared, her voice unyielding and confident. "And I give as good as I get." And with that bold proclamation, she pulled him into a crushing kiss. There wasn't much more to say after that, Roman only took about ten seconds to react, groaning in satisfaction against her mouth as she bit his lip and sucked on his tongue. Roman had charm and words but Belladonna had grit and an axe to grind, she may as well grind it on him, and he wouldn't mind.

She'd taken him by surprise, yet his initial shock swiftly transformed into a determined response. With hunger in his eyes, he wasted no time in taking the lead, pulling her tightly against him. This man wasn't one for mere talk and teasing; he dove straight into action. With a seamless motion, he effortlessly lifted her, wrapping her legs around his hips. Navigating with only occasional glimpses of his surroundings, he hoisted her onto the nearby table turning it into an impromptu playground.

He didn't waste a second contemplating the table's conventional purpose. To him, it was simply another surface for sex and he'd fuck her on it even if he broke it. The kiss, once her tactical maneuver meant to make a point, was now firmly under his control, dancing to Roman's demanding rhythm-- He was hot, hard and the way his tongue massaged hers made her dizzy and left questions burning in her mind of what else that mouth was capable of.

Without batting an eye, and having the patience of a charging bull for the fragile buttons on her blouse, he deemed them acceptable casualty in the pursuit of sex. A sharp, tearing motion scattered them like forgotten confetti. Her gasp was met with a triumphant smirk as Roman moved on to conquer the next obstacle to his tactile exploring.

Pulling down the cups of her bra and indulging in the softness of her breasts. His touch was possessive, and greedy, leaving her senses ablaze with a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. She didn't do anything to stifle the moan that tore from her throat when she felt his thumb work circles over her soft nipple and a gentle pinching of the other, arching against him.

"Use your hands, kitten."

The man growled at her. He honest-to-god growled. Jesus Christ she just might cum from that.

She finally released her grip on his shirt, and with a newfound enthusiasm, popping open the buttons of his dress shirt, showing it more care than he had hers. Belladonna was the type to carefully open her presents on Christmas. Her nails clawed down his toned and firm chest and stomach, his muscles responding to the stimulus flexing under her touch, and a hiss escaped his lips as little red marks emerged.

Then she went to work frantically on his belt, her tongue rekindled its intimate dance, slipping its way back into his mouth. A feral sound growl escaped him, and in response, his hips ground against hers, a rhythmic symphony of lust taking over.

A hand tangled into her black tresses, firm, and sharp tugging separated their lips. His hips bucked against her hand when she palmed his hard cock through his slacks, petting him.

"Kitten..." His breathing was shallow and hot against her lips, like a warning not to tease. The tone of his voice was low and it was impossible to deny or ignore the excitement.

Jesus Christ.

Was this really happening? Was she really about to have sex with a criminal on her kitchen table? It was getting harder and harder to care with each roll of his hips against her hand, he was hard and long, straining through his slacks, God; he'd split her open with what he was packing and she couldn't wait. He dropped his mouth to her breast taking in a hard nipple alternating between flicking his tongue and hard little suckles that had her panties an absolute mess within seconds and mewling like a kitten.

Yeah, the answer was probably yeah. She was going to have sex on her kitchen table.

God. This was all she wanted last week.This right here. She wanted someone to throw her down and make her come, to fuck away her frustrations till she couldn't remember them. And while she could have done without the triple murder, threats on her life, and imminent threat of the police investigation, she wasn't complaining now. Romanfucking Aurelius.

There was a firm yank on the waistband of her leggings, calloused fingers slipping inside her panties, she froze, despite his aggressive approach, his touch was delicate. Fingers teased their way past her lips catching a little bit of slickness, just enough to see her moan and lean into his hand, and she could feel him smirk into her nipple.

Yeah, she was gonna fuck him. Just a little bit closer, his fingers teased and offered featherlight touches, purposefully drawing out the inevitable and she begged him in her mind to just fucking touch her, and she opened her mouth to say it out loud.

A sudden vibrating ring from his pants pocket had him snarling, it went on for a minute as he tried to ignore it, but it just kept ringing.

"Who the fuck is that?" She groaned in a similar frustration.

With another insistent ring, he reluctantly tore himself away from the intoxicating allure of her teased nipple and withdrew his hand from the tempting warmth between her legs. The sudden intrusion of the phone disrupted the intimate moment, and his demeanor shifted abruptly.

"What?"

Growling irritably into the phone, she strained to catch fragments of the conversation on the other end, picking up on the unmistakable frustration in his voice. Her ears strained to eavesdrop on the muffled voice on the other end but nothing was discernible.

"Fine, bring the damn car around. I'll be there," He spat out, ending the call without a hint of civility. No goodbyes.

It was like his mind snapped from 'sex' to 'work' and he hastily tucked in his shirt, rebuttoned the ones she had undone, and fixed his collar, all the while shooting her hungry glances. Guess sex was off the table... she reached to fix her bra, but she couldn't do much about the torn blouse, her eyes glued to him as he finished buckling his belt.

The lingering hunger in his eyes suggested that, despite the interruption, the steamy tension between them was far from over. Roman looked equal parts turned on and pissed off. Like he was being sent to bed without dessert.

"I'll be in touch. Answer your phone when I call."

She didn't bother asking how she'd know it was him; she just nodded. She got off the table, holding her blouse closed, suddenly feeling a little more vulnerable. She took a step towards the door but Roman had other plans. Pulling a classic move, his arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her back against him with a force that left her breathless, his lips making one last power move on hers in a hungry kiss that was a little more teeth and tongue than lips.

"That,kitten, is a taste of what we did in the back of my club."

No need for formalities; Roman had just turned her world upside down and she was left there, trying to catch her breath and decipher the smirk he left behind. He swaggered away. The door closed behind him, a cocktail of surprise and heat still swirling in her veins.

"Fuck."

Moral of the story: when collaborating to make an alibi involving sex, you're probably going to end up having sex.

"She's a liability, you know?"

Mercer didn't usually offer an opinion unless prompted for one, so sharing his thoughts so freely was a little out of character.

Roman, however, was unphased by Mercer's professional concern, and it wasn't because he didn't think Mercer knew what he was talking about. He knew he did, Roman just didn't care. He leaned back in his chair and trimmed his cigar before lighting it; he gave no acknowledgment of Mercer's concerns. He had mostly made up his mind on what to do with Belladonna, he was impulsive, sure, but wasn't so stupid as to make an ill-advised decision because of a pair of long legs alone. Everyone had their uses and Belladonna had hers.

"What's the matter, Mercer? Worried a woman could come between our bromance?"

"I'm just saying; it's a risk." Smoke began to curl its tendrils through the air surrounding Roman.

"Yes, it is. But it's a fun risk." He stared at a fixed point in the ceiling with his feet kicked up on the desk, lounging about. "Did you get the formation?"

Mercer slid a file across the desk's surface and Roman glanced at it then back to Mercer. He wasn't in the mood to read.

"What do we know?"

"Her name really is Belladonna Black, no middle name. Mother is Gloria Dubois, father is Benjamin Cyrus Black."

Roman gave no response, none of those names meant anything to him. He gave a questioning gesture with his cigar.

"That name supposed to mean something?"

"He's a financier, old money. Rubs elbows with some pretty well-known names, probably knows your folks." Displeasure colored Roman's face at the mention of his parents. "Not sure if there's dirt there yet though."

"There's always dirt with old money," Roman would know.

Roman had everything from medical records, birth certificate, newspaper clippings, school records, college, and employment.

And it was all very average. She had been a quiet child by all accounts, and even mentioned in the newspaper a few times, a few pictures clipped from articles about her family but nothing about her specifically. Just old pictures of a very bored-looking Belladonna at black tie affairs. She'd been an A student at the local Preparatory School, but not valedictorian. Her records were nearly perfect aside from a few notes regarding a series of altercations between Belladonna and another girl, Olivia Danvers.

His kitten had been in a few fistfights it had seemed, he was surprised, to say the least.

The report read that she'd gotten into an all-out brawl and given the girl a black eye, split lip, and a broken nose. He smirked at the pictures of the two of them in the file.

A sixteen-year-old Belladonna giving off hardcore Wednesday Addams vibes and one hell of a resting bitch face wearing the tiniest smirk. She had scratches on her face and her hair had been clearly pulled but the other girl looked far worse. He chuckled at the idea of one girl slapping and pulling hair while Belladonna went in swinging.

"What else?"

Mercer sucked his teeth and in a rare show of hesitancy, he didn't answer Roman's question right away. Mercer had done a thorough job of compiling her life into a file, what was left was unspoken, off the record.

"What're you gonna do with her?" Roman didn't acknowledge that Mercer answered his question with another. Something he didn't like.

"She's a plaything right now." He replied, tapping his cigar, glancing back at the photos "A plaything with one hell of a right hook by the looks of it." He looked down at a significantly smaller file from the police department. She didn't seem like the type to have a criminal record. "What's this?" He pulled the file out so that Mercer could see it.

"Police report." Roman raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "She was the victim of an unsolved assault right outside her job a year ago. Guy did a number on her. Broken bones, stab wounds with thirty-odd stitches, they had to put her into a medically induced coma for six weeks, it was touch and go for a bit. When she came out of it, she went to the cops a few times but looks like they weren't too concerned with her case."

The file was pitiful, a copy of the report, no witness statements, and a few photos spaced every seven seconds apart from an atm across the street. A medical report from the hospital detailing the injuries from the attack and the last few pages were photos from the hospital. His stomach turned. She looked like a complete stranger from the last photo he'd seen. Face purple, black, and yellow with bruises, bandages, and several casts. A tube was breathing for her, and several photos of a large stab wound on her shoulder and the accompanying stitches, it was ugly. He winced and looked away for the briefest of moments. Mercer looked at the ground, he'd already seen the photos, and while Mercer was a monster even he didn't want to look at them again.

"Looks like they couldn't even bebothered to investigate."

Roman glanced at the report and his lips curled into a frown, the most basic information from the report was missing, or had never been filled out in the first place. He'd lost count of how many typos he'd seen in the 'report'. Then there were the atm photos, pretty much all ATMs only take photos every few seconds and almost none of them capture video. The photos were of decent quality in that they weren't grainy as hell, but they were still from across the street, so any real detail was almost impossible to make out. They showed Belladonna leaving her office, then someone following her, the attack, arms swinging wildly, her trying to run, and the man who attacked her with his arm raised, no doubt wielding a knife. The next series of photos showed her headed down an alley between buildings, after that nothing except the man fleeing the scene.