The Temptation of Thievery

nine

hi. been a while since i wrote a little author's note. but i really have nothing else to say but enjoy the story. if you're wondering what in the world is happening with this story, i have it all under control. i promise. though, i might've changed some of my plans so i might have to switch the blurb for something else.

(people watching by conan gray)

RAIMONA

My expression was as hard as the concrete beneath my feet as I surveyed the expense of greenery and daffodils and irises that would have enchanted Savia. Even Kieren. But nature's soft beauty had long since lost its appeal on me—I found only harsh beauty like scarred truths and lethal weapons captivating.

Ciro drove fifty minutes in silence to a public garden.

Grassy land with splatters of bewitching colours flanked Ciro and me on each side as we sauntered abreast. I had never been more bored.

Though, despite my disinterest, I acknowledged Ciro's intentions. It wasn't to please me. It was a deliberate plan to lure sneaky reporters and public beings into snapping pictures. By tomorrow, the pictures—Ciro and me ambling with my hand engulfed in his, too intimate to be just friends—would be flooding the internet.

In the meantime, I tried to ignore that hand holding mine and the burn of cool metal against my skin. Ciro wore rings on both hands, around every finger save for his ring finger. I didn't need to confirm that they were under his father's brand—his future brand.

He seemed absent, so deep in his thoughts that it might take gunshots to jerk him back to reality. So it shocked me when he questioned out of nowhere, "Why'd you marry me?"

I shot him a curious glance. "I didn't object to the pitch because—"

"Of course you didn't," he stated. "It was your idea." Before I could retort, he continued, "You can't expect me to believe your father—who doesn't fail to mention your name in each of his interviews—suggested the idea. Your parents looked ready to claw my eyes out for signing the contract."

I studied Ciro with interest. Such insignificant detail, and yet he wished to confront me. How fun.

"I married you the same reason you married me." Power, money, and security.

He seemed to have guessed my answer long before I said it. But still, he asked, "Surely, it was a difficult decision. To exchange freedom for your future business."

I cast him a look that told him plainly that I was unimpressed by his attempt to bait me into an argument. He wanted to know what riled me up; what I would fight for in claws and teeth.

"I would sell my soul for my family. This is nothing."

A wry smile twisted his face. "You wound me. How could you call our marriage nothing?"

He was playing my game, I realised. The same one from that dinner, where we pretended to flirt and banter while trying the entire time to piss the other off. Searching for a weakness.

I would play with him.

"Lest you can prove me wrong," I suggested.

His eyes glittered. "Fine. Since we both fucking hate this place, I'll bring you elsewhere in a moment."

"Shocking. Are you not a person of plants and flowers?" I tilted my head almost imperceptibly to the side, studying his reaction to my questioning of his masculinity.