Unexpected Love

Chapter 2

A con artist is an individual who is skilled and experienced at devising and executing scams and other fraudulent schemes. The purpose is normally to get as much money from a victim as possible, but to do so in a way that the victim actually believes they are getting a benefit. Thus, often the con artist is gone for a long time before the victim realizes what took place. That is exactly what Kelly Severide is: a freaking con artist. He tricked her, he fooled her, and he deceived her. He is probably on a plane to the Bahamas, Mexico, Canada, or wherever scum like him go after robbing innocent people of their life savings.

She was mad-no, mad's not the word; angry-no, that's not it; frustrated-no, that's not it either. Pissed, yes, that's it. She was pissed off-more pissed off than she probably has ever been in her whole life. She couldn't believe how stupid she was; she should have known better, just because he was handsome, with his soft brown hair, chiseled jaw line, gorgeous blue eyes, and a mighty fine body that definitely belonged to an athlete. His features alone made her think very naughty things, which in turn made her wet. She was actually considering sleeping with him once, maybe twice, just to get a much-needed good fuck, it's been years since she's had sex, hell she's never had a good fuck, sex with her ex was boring and hurt painfully. She always wanted to have mind blowing sex, like Violet and Ritter talk about. And she was really thinking that this Kelly Severide man could be what she's been craving. But he had to turn out to be a fucking con artist. No wonder he used the word scam so much the other day in her office. It was part of his job title. Scam artist, that's what he is, not a con artist, even though it means the same thing.

Her mind was going 100 miles per hour as she paced back and forth in the middle of the airport, mumbling to herself how dumb she was for doing this; she should have known better; she should have listened to Violet; this was such a bad idea; she could just hear Violet's big fat "I told you so." She looks up at the clock and says, 'Six, forty, forty, fucking minutes late, what the hell?" She stops pacing as she looks around the airport, noticing for the first time the people walking by or sitting down looking at her like she was some crazy lady. Usually, she would go hide somewhere; she is not one of those girls who likes to be the center of attention. But right now she was too pissed off to give a damn what anyone was thinking. She sighed as she pulled out her cell.

"Hey"

Her head jerked towards the voice. "Where the hell have you been?" she yelled, causing Kelly to take a step back.

"Sorry, the cab took forever to get to my apartment." He said, as he looked intently at her, she was wearing a rather tight little black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. He swallowed hard as his gaze first fell on her ridiculously long, tanned legs. She was wearing dress pants when he first met her in her office last week. Damn, what he would give to have those toned, smooth legs wrapped around his waist as he's fucking her.

"I told you to be here at six; you are forty fucking minutes late. And I so don't want to hear that lame excuse." She put her hands on her hips and said, "Why didn't you just drive your own car?"

"Because I don't have a car," he said, shrugging his shoulders, like it was no big deal. "It's New York; who drives here? I use public transportation, you know, the bus, the train, the subway, the cab... You drive?"

"Yes," she said, like she had something over him. "But I don't use my car; it's actually back home, but that's not the point; you're late."

"And again, I'm sorry. What did you think I took off with your money?"

"Whatever, let's go," she said as she started to walk away from him.

He laughed to himself, "Wait, if the plane was scheduled to take off at six, shouldn't it be gone already?" Kelly asked as he tried to walk as fast as she was.