Billionairess Thief (An Erotic Tale) (2 page)

“What are you doing here, asshole?” I mouthed to him.

“The same as you.” He smiled, showing off his dimples.

There was even a deep cleft in his chin. He looked like a Greek god. I averted my eyes and turned around in my seat, pretending to ignore him. The entire time, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. This was a problem. If the Gottis were here, they were on to the diamonds. The jeweler, Micheves must have put them on to the caper to insure that the diamonds were stolen and he could still get his cut.

Instantly, my mind began to wander as I inconspicuously looked around the lobby. Espionage seemed to lurk with the shadowy figures. Every person that passed suddenly looked suspicious to me. I envisioned the Gotti team skulking in every corner, ready to pounce. If the Gotti family was involved, I was not prepared. They played by different rules, different standards. I had to respect them for being excellent jewel thieves, but they were also ruthless and treacherous. I knew that they would stop at nothing, including murder, to possess the diamonds. After all, they were Italians. As my grandfather had told me, the Gottis were connected to the mob, which meant they were capable of anything.

Mark nonchalantly folded up the newspaper, then he strolled over and sat down next to me. The scent of his cologne permeated the air. It was a sexy, yet bold, fragrance that suited him perfectly.

“My, my, Marilyn, you’re beautiful!” he said flirtatiously. The whole time, his eyes roamed the contours of my hips, breasts, and thighs. I felt like he was literally undressing me with his eyes. He was sitting too close. As people passed, I am certain they thought we were a couple.

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You and your family stole from us, and why are you here in the first place?” I raised my voice.

An elderly man who was being assisted by an African bellhop turned and looked in our direction. There was something about this character that I couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“That was a misunderstanding. I had nothing to do with that. My family decided to move a day ahead of schedule. But the question is, what are you doing here? This is out of your league. This is dangerous.”

“Misunderstanding? How convenient,” I retorted. “After we provide your family with the blueprints and know how to pull off the caper, you all didn’t even have the decency to at least compensate my grandfather for all the years he put into preparing for the heist!” I snapped.

He gave me a subtle shrug, as if the millions of dollars that was owed to my family was no big deal. The entire time, he never took his eyes off me.

Then I added a second thought. “How dare you say that this is dangerous and out of my league! Did you forget my last name? My family is legendary.”

“But I thought your family had pulled back. I am using a different tactic,” he said, with his brow furrowed, forming a tight line across his forehead. His eyes began to skirt around the lobby, then back to me.

“Well, think again. This operation is ours, so you and your cutthroat hooligan family can pull back!”

He chuckled jovially as if he found humor in me as he leaned forward and leered down at my breasts. For some crazy reason, I found myself turned on, as I looked deep into his alluring eyes. So many years had passed. We had grown, matured. He batted his girly eyelashes at me. I wanted to scoot away from him, get up, and walk out. I felt a familiar throbbing between my thighs as my lady parts seemed to call out to him. My attraction for him was strange, as if his masculinity was pollenating my femininity.

“Marilyn, let me make it up to you, but not now. You need to leave. In a minute, it’s going to get real ugly in here,” he said in a heavy Italian accent as he eased closer.

I turned and scowled at him as if he had lost his mind. That’s when I saw it, the elongated erection print in his pants; it looked like he was trying to conceal a small baseball bat. Despite my ill temper, I was aroused. Italian men are born lotharios. They have a high appetite for sex.

I suddenly had a flashback. One time when we were teenagers, riding in the back of a limo on our way home from school, I let him finger me and squeeze my breasts. It was one of my early inductions into the world of lust. Even back then, he was sexually aggressive and handsome. I remember creaming all over his fingers.

“You surely have blossomed like a delicate rose, so beautiful. We need to get together, but I am warning you to leave. Tell your family to abort the mission. It is not worth it. They have amassed millions of dollars. Your grandfather is not just a good thief, but a shrewd businessman. He bought out Verior Com Enterprise. That company is now worth over a hundred million dollars,” he said, and reached to caress my hair.

I swatted his hand. He played it off and inched closer. His dick moved further down his leg.

I did my best not to stare, as I responded curtly, “I am going to be the first billionairess in my family. With this heist, my family’s worth will be in the billions, and I stand to inherit it all.”

He chuckled derisively. “You’re a woman, and a very beautiful one at that, but this is out of your league. Trust me. Walk out while you still have the time.”

“Humph.” I retorted.
His machismo should give me some advantage.
I thought to myself. Still, I couldn’t help thinking about how handsome he was. I quickly snapped out of it. I needed to keep my mental faculties intact.

Something made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The entire time, he had been trying to warn me, but I had paid him no mind. I tore my eyes away from him to see what he was suddenly staring at behind me.

That’s when I spotted the Russians. They were four formidable looking characters, just as Micheves had described them. They seem to walk almost in sync with each other. One of the men was elderly, slightly hunched with age. He had gnarly gray bushy eyebrows, and was built like a tank. The other three were extremely handsome, tall, with a youthful vim and lithe, athletic strides. They could have passed for models, dressed in black tailored suits and short, cropped military haircuts. Just looking at them stirred up my libido. They looked like they had stepped out of G.Q. Magazine. I thought of how delicious it would be to have them all take me at once. My hormones were raging, but something told me to watch. Be careful. I listened astutely to my thief’s inner instinct.

What is Mark up to? Distracted by all of the raw sexuality in the room, I had almost missed something.

In front of them, and directly behind them, they were flanked by a phalanx of armed men. Their weapons were concealed under their suit coats as they surveyed every occupant in the lobby. I felt a timorous shiver run down my spine. A murmur of hushed voices resonated in the lobby as people gandered, mouths agape in awe. I noticed Mark move stealthily. He reached for something under his suit coat. It suddenly occurred to me that it was a gun. A ripple of nausea erupted through my gut as I realized that he and his team were about to rob the Russians.

He waved, giving some type of cryptic signal to the phantom figures that I imagined were ensconced somewhere in the hotel lobby. I turned around and did a quick reconnaissance to see if I could pinpoint members of his team, as he watched the Russians. The drama continued to unfold in slow surrealistic motion. There were too many Russians. Micheves had briefed my family, and I’m sure he did the same with the Gottis. We were only expecting four Russians to be transporting the jewels. I counted a total of ten. This had to present a problem for Mark. I silently prayed that he would pull back and not attempt such a daring robbery against insurmountable odds.

Suddenly, there was more activity in the lobby. I recognized some of the players from the Gotti team. The same old man who was being assisted by the African, stopped and furtively talked into his earpiece. That’s when I noticed the bulge under his suit jacket. The African, disguised as a bellhop, was holding a luggage carrier with his hand inside. I was almost certain it contained some type of high powered shotgun, maybe even a rocket launcher.

Mark got up and walked over to them. They pretended to casually chat, but I know they were mobilizing to rob the Russians. It was just too many of them. Too risky a move for Mark to attempt the robbery. Surely, the Gottis must have a counterplan?

__________

The Russians, as if sensing an ambush, continued to strategically position themselves near the elevator, forming a gauntlet.

A staff employee appeared from out of nowhere. His skin was swarthy black. His white hotel uniform was ironed, creased, and stiff as a board. He too had something concealed in his pants. He was sweating profusely. What looked like coffee, glistened from his shiny black forehead as it cascaded down his angular chin. He was unattractive, with shifty, beady eyes. A deep angry scar was chiseled into his left cheek. As he talked to me, he continued to look over his shoulder at the Russians, then at Mark, as if he was waiting for some type of signal.

“Ma’am would you like to buy a newspaper?” It dawned on me that he was using me as decoy to make a brazen attempt to rob the Russians. He was part of the Gotti family’s team. My stomach churned with a heightened anxiety. I completely ignored him. I needed to move, get out of the way of the possible gunplay.

I looked back to the Russians. Instantly, the moment was volatile. They watched everything, and everyone like they had been forewarned. I already knew what room they were going to, suite 217. I had a room right across the hall from them. I couldn’t help but wonder if someone had alerted them that they were going to be robbed. It sure appeared that way. Someone had warned the Russians.

I heard the elevator chime its arrival as the doors opened. As the Russians prepared to board, it seemed like every occupant in the lobby moved and headed for the elevator. There was no doubt in my mind that some of the people were Gotti’s team, getting in position to pull off the robbery. Mark had taken the lead. He walked briskly with purposeful intent. He was the first person at the elevator, his hand concealed inside his jacket. As he passed me, he turned and scowled an optic warning to get out of the way.

“Oh God, no!” I muttered under my breath. My heart slammed against my rib cage as I watched the drama unfold. That’s when I heard a halting voice that sent shivers down my spine.

“Stop! Do not come any closer!” it was one of the Russians. He unsheathed his weapon, and aimed it at Mark’s chest. I gasped in horror, then I heard the falsetto of a woman’s scream.

The Enemy Within

The staccato sound of weapons being engaged filled the lobby. The other hotel patrons froze, standing still. Mark had no choice but to stop in his tracks, so did his team. I saw both riveting defeat and rigid fear etched on his handsome face.

Suddenly, I had a bright idea, or maybe a suicide plot, but I got up from my chair. In all the heightened attention, I strolled over to the elevator with an undulating stride that would have made even Tyra Banks jealous. One of the Russians moved in front of me to block my path. I politely stepped around him and entered the elevator. I turned to see them exchange whimsical stares. My heart pounded in my thorax. Then, the older Russian, who was built like a tank looked at his comrades and smiled. I heard a guffaw and some chuckles.

The younger Russian turned to me and barked, “You dun’t take orders very well do you?” He said in broken English.

“It depends on what I’m ordered to do.” I flippantly countered with a seductive smile, and thrust my ample breast forward by placing my hand on the curvature of my slim waist and tossing a mane of hair over my shoulder. It was my signature diva statement.

He just stared at me. I had them stumped. They began to exchange words in their native language.

More laughter.

Finally, the first four Russians entered the elevator as their security stood outside. I caught Mark staring me with what looked like scathing envy.

The door closed. The young man that I had made eye contact with turned to me and ogled my body. So did the rest of his comrades. That’s when I noticed that the sliver metallic briefcase he held in his hand was handcuffed to his wrist. It was just like out of a scene from an old 1940’s movie. There was no doubt whatsoever, that diamonds were in the suitcase, THE diamonds. I gave him a cashmere smile. Haphazardly, the plan was starting to form.