I was born for this

Victoria’s POV

He pushed me into a room and locked the door.

Stay calm, I told myself. Is he calling the cops?

No, he would have done that by now. I paced for a bit, then slid down the wall. My eyelids became heavy, and I finally fell asleep.

Someone lifted me, and my eyes flung open. The same man was there, his gaze cold.

He threw me onto a bed. “How’s your…” I glanced at his pants.

“Better,” he smirked. “Name?”

“Gina,” I said.

“Try again, little girl.”

“Don’t call me that,” I replied sharply, sizing him up.

“Alright, let’s try something else,” he said, loosening his tie and starting to unbutton his shirt. Terror surged throughout me.

“Fine, stop. Victoria. My name’s Victoria.”

He kept undressing, taking off his shirt and then his pants.

I jumped off the bed and backed into a corner, searching for anything I could use as a weapon.

“Damian,” he said. “My name. Sleep. You’ll need it.” He lay down and closed his eyes.

I stayed curled up in the corner, knees pulled to my chest, terrified.

Two months later…

"Victoria, get out here," Damian called from the other side of the bathroom door.

I looked at myself in the mirror. "I look insane. This thing barely covers anything," I spoke quietly, taking one deep breath before opening the door.

He was waiting, his eyes examining me up and down.

"What? I told you, this is ridiculous," I said, crossing my arms.

"Victoria, you look beautiful," he replied, his tone almost casual.

"Oh, great, now you’re obligated to compliment me," I responded, rolling my eyes.

He laughed. "Come on, the plan’s solid. Space and Wire are already waiting."

He held my hand just as I slipped on my heels. Damian muttered a curse under his breath.

"Something wrong?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

He shook his head, tightening his grip as he helped me into the car. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he turned to me. "Look at me, Victoria. If anything goes wrong and you’re caught, I’ll come for you." He kissed my hand, his lips lingering for a moment.

For the past two months, Damian had acted like a gentleman and never tried anything. I even started to wonder if he was into guys. We shared a bed with two pillows. After working together on a few jobs, we built trust. He split the money among the three of us, though he took a larger share since he took the greatest risk. Damian was the best thief I’d ever met. He didn’t care about the money; he loved the adrenaline. Clients hired him to steal art and sometimes other things. Tonight, we were after a painting worth sixteen million. He got invited to the party, a fancy event. Meanwhile, I was stuck in a dress that barely covered anything.

"Victoria," he said, breaking my thoughts.

"What?" I turned to him.

"We can call it off if you’re scared," he offered.

I laughed. "Scared? Please, Damian. I’m scared of this dress, not the job. Sometimes I think I was born for this."

"Yeah, you’re terrifyingly good at it. But I get the feeling there’s more to it. Maybe you’ll tell me one day."

"Damian, you promised. Two more jobs, and I’m out," I reminded him.

"That’s how you feel?" he asked, his speech touched with something close to disappointment.

"Okay, you want to know how I feel. Give me a reason to stay," I challenged.

He pulled the car over abruptly, turned to me, and kissed me. And damn, he was good at it.

I pulled back, shocked. "Wrong reason?" he asked with a smirk.

I laughed, then kissed him back, his hand pulling me closer.

"Damian, let’s go. We’re going to be late," I said, my face flushing.

"Yeah," he replied, turning back to the wheel and driving off.

The valet took the car, and Damian’s fingers ran through mine. “We’re in,” he muttered into his earpiece.

The party was just what you’d expect—posh, crowded, and overflowing with champagne. Servers moved through a sea of designer dresses and stylish suits, carrying trays of tiny, overpriced snacks. Damian grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to me. I finished mine in one gulp and set the empty glass on a passing tray.

His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. His eyes focused on mine, searching for something.

“Kitty, are you good?” he spoke quietly, his breath soft on my ear. That was my alias; his was just Damian.

“Now,” he said into the earpiece to Wire. We moved toward the stairs, side by side. Wire handled the cameras upstairs.

We were halfway up when a woman stopped us. She was all curves and confidence, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination.n,” She uttered softly, her smile crisp.

“Janelle,” he replied, his tone civil but clipped.

“Rocking the cradle now?” she said, her look casting to me.

He let out a quick, dry laugh. “Yeah, well… Excuse us. Good to see you again.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me away, muttering curses under his breath.

One more flight of stairs. He checked his watch. “Last door on the right.”

He forced it open, only to find two pitbulls staring him down. “Shit,” he said, shoving me behind him and slamming the door shut.

Before he could react, I pushed the door open. I crouched down and called the dogs over. They trotted up, tails wagging, and started licking my face. “Go on, Damian,” I said, scratching their ears. “Stop staring and grab the damn thing.” He moved past me, rolled up the painting, and tucked it into his jacket sleeve. We slipped back through the crowd like silhouettes. “We’re out, Wire,” he said into his earpiece. Then he turned to me and kissed me, quick and hard. The valet pulled up with the car, and he helped me in, his hand lingering on mine.

As soon as the door to his apartment closed, he pinned me against the wall, his mouth hungry and demanding. I pulled back, breathless, and looked up at him. His long black hair had come loose from its tie, falling into his face as he stared at me, chest pounding.

He picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. Okay, I told myself, this is it. He set me down and kissed my shoulder softly. My hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, but I couldn’t focus enough to open even one. He slipped one strap of my dress off, displaying my breast, and his lips brushed my skin so lightly it drove me crazy. I wanted him; he was hot, older, and mysterious.

He let go of the dress and stared at my body for a few seconds, then pushed me onto the bed.

He took off his shirt and got on top of me. When his skin touched mine, my whole body felt like it was on fire.

He took the last piece off me, my lace panties, as his lips traced down.