William informed us the man keeps his office locked, but he sometimes goes in there, usually with a young woman—most likely to fuck or do drugs or something of that nature.
Brandis is the key piece we must figure out because we’re after what he has in his office.
Which is—presumably—close to five-hundred-thousand-pounds sterling.
How in the hell William manages to find these marks is beyond me, but he’s a genius at sniffing out people who think they’re safety conscious but actually aren’t. Most will either stupidly not even realize they’ve been robbed—like Dennison—or they’ll be too afraid to report it—like Brandis, who is a dealer with half a million in drug money.
On William’s last night casing this joint, he’d hired a woman to wrangle an invitation into Brandis’ office for some up-close recon. Before Brandis could get his pants down to demand she suck his dick for some blow, William had created a disturbance in the hallway. A furious Brandis had stormed out of his office to find out what was going on. William’s hired woman had quickly snapped several photos of the office layout, including some close-up pics of the safe Brandis had brazenly left out on the floor beside his desk.
William and I had smiled evilly at each other when he showed me the pictures. It’s one of the easiest safes to hack. An auto-dialer will get us in and out a lot quicker than I can with manual manipulation.
“We should test the guards,” I suggest, moving my gaze from one to another. “See what gets them to move off point.”
“We will,” he replies, sliding his hand from my lower back to my hip. “How about we dance first?”
Caught off guard, I turn my head toward him. “Pardon?”
Saint grins. “Come on, Sin. We’re in a nightclub. People are grinding against each other everywhere and you’re wearing a dress designed to give me a heart attack, yet you’re surprised I want to dance with you?”
I scrunch my nose in confusion, not quite grasping what’s going on right now. In all the time I’ve known him—in all the months and months of our relationship—we’d never once danced together.
“You’re serious?” I ask, pushing away from the railing. With my heels, I’m almost at eye level with him.
He snakes an arm around my back, yanking me into him so forcefully some of my drink splashes out. His lips go to my ear, a feat that wouldn’t have been possible if I’d left my hair all loose and wild. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, his breath causing the hair on my arms to rise as his words rumble into me. “I want to dance with you. Want you to rub up against me, tease me a little. And once we’re done here, I’m taking you back to the hotel. And let me just go ahead and warn you now—you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”
My eyes almost roll into the back of my head, but I manage to hold on to a tiny piece of my common sense. Putting my hand on his chest, I hold him at bay. “I kind of thought last time was a one-time only thing.”
“Why? Because I haven’t called you, and I’ve pointedly ignored you when we’re around the others?”
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“Doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you,” he says, his sobering expression conveying exactly how truthful his statement is. “But… it’s complicated.”
“Yes,” I agree softly, moving in closer to him. “We’re definitely complicated.”
“Come on,” he says. After swallowing the rest of the vodka in his glass, he sets it on a table. “Let’s go dance.”
I don’t bother draining my glass. Instead, I take one last sip before putting it next to his empty one. I’ve never been a big drinker. A fuzzy brain isn’t my idea of a good time.
Saint holds my hand as we make our way down the stairs. He weaves through the crowded dance floor, not stopping until we’re right in the middle. A slow techno song pulses a rhythmic beat, and the laser lights make me a little dizzy. I don’t even know how to dance and I’m not sure what to do, but then Saint’s hands settle on my hips. He leads, his hips rotating back and forth, his grasp urging me to follow his motions. When I curve my hands to his shoulders, we rock and sway against each other.
Sliding a hand from my hip to my lower back, Saint pulls me in, nestling our lower halves together. As we grind against each other to the seductive beat, I can feel his length harden against me. A rush of power at knowing I’m the cause of his reaction sweeps over me.
Palm still on my lower back, he drags his other hand up to cup the nape of my neck. As he draws me in until our lips are only inches apart, I anticipate the kiss I think he’s going to give me. Instead, he says, “I do forgive you, Sin.”