Page 1 of Corrupted Pleasure

Davina

08-29-19-98.Combination code.

My heart pounded with each number I punched in. Blood rushed through my veins and anticipation buzzed in my system. Everything depended on this going right.

With a trembling finger, I entered the last number and a soft click sounded.

My soft gasp broke the silence in the room as I stared dumbfounded at the cracked safe door. Too afraid to peer inside. What if we robbed the head of the Irish mafia for nothing? It didn’t matter that he was Juliette’s father… he was a mobster first and foremost.

Swallowing hard, I pulled the door open and a sharp inhale slipped through my lips. There were stacks of money. Stacks and stacks of money. More than I’d seen in my entire life.

Glancing around, I spotted the black backpack that Juliette had said Quinn always left here. I picked it up, unzipped it with shaking hands, and started shoving the money into it. I had no clue how much was in each stack, so I estimated.

Then, as a thought struck me, I paused.

“I should take all of it,” I muttered under my breath. “Just in case.”

If Wynter’s friend didn’t come through, I wouldn’t put it past Garrett to continue blackmailing us. Again and again.

Determination settled within me. There was no sense in doing it half-assed. So I’d take it all. My hands shook badly. Every so often, I’d miss the bag completely and the wrapped up stack of bills would end up on the floor.

“Focus, Davina,” I scolded myself softly.

Another stack of bills into the bag. Jesus Christ! There was more money in here than most people see in their entire life. Once the safe was emptied out, I lowered onto my knees to pick up the ones that didn’t make it into the bag.

Tugging on the zipper, I attempted to close the bag, but it got jammed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cursed softly, struggling with the fucking zipper. It finally gave and I exhaled a breath of relief.

“Filthy words from such a pretty mouth.” A deep voice filled the room.

My head shot up, the zipper forgotten while a little scream shot out of me. Trying to jerk upright, I lost my footing and fell back on my ass, all the while staring into a stormy ocean gaze.

What bad fucking luck! To be caught red-handed. This hasn’t been my week at all. I hoped my girlfriends had better luck than I did.

My breathing hitched as I waited for Liam Brennan to call the police. Or kill me. Something. Anything.

Jesus, two crimes in a single week. Could this get any worse? I wondered what the sentence would be for arson and larceny.

Shit!

I couldn’t get arrested. I was about to graduate from Yale.

“Let me guess,” Mr. Brennan drawled, his tone lazy with the hint of something dangerous and ruthless in it. I imagined the head of the Irish mafia might contemplate tying my feet to a cement block and throwing me into the Hudson River.

“The other three are meant to be a distraction while you are in here robbing me,” he continued, almost sounding amused.

I looked away, scared he’d see the truth in my eyes. Besides, he was way too good to look at. Something about him ignited my skin and warmed my insides. He was just as good looking as I remembered. I wondered how good the sex would be with him. He was so tall, all muscles and raw strength. God, I bet it would be a treat to explore his body.

Great, now I was turned on and scared.

“Fucking wrong,” I protested, sounding stronger than I felt.

My eyes glanced at the door he blocked. I wished he’d move from it. Maybe I could sprint past him and out of this crazy club.

“Enlighten me then. Why is my safe open, and why are your hands on my money?” he asked.

Wasn’t that the question of the century? Of course, telling him the truth was out of the question. So I shrugged nonchalantly, slightly annoyed.