Con Me Hard (Book 1): Can this sexy con artist ever be trusted? by Lady Luck

Author:Lady Luck
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime, transformation, criminal, hot sex, rebel, bad boy, flirtation, grifter, game playing, lady luck

Chapter Four

Vintage Crime

The dress is black with a tight bodice. When I move, I can see glimpses of the pink crepe under-layers that fluff up the full skirt. If the price tag wasn’t extortionate, I might actually buy it.

The store has a standalone full-length mirror in the corner and I gaze at my reflection, my sunglasses on my face, my cleavage on full display. Even I have to admit I look stunning in this dress. “I love it,” I say, giving a little twirl. I imagine Sammy placing his hands around my waist, making my insides spark with pleasure.

Oh Sammy. I want you in crazy ways.

Nearby, the shop assistant says, “Now! This is perfect on you.” She is a tanned woman with short, blonde hair and strawberry-colored lipstick. In a lavender trouser-suit she is immaculate, but she has a glazed professional look that says she is all about selling. I suggested this vintage boutique to Sammy because I’ve heard about this woman—she will say anything to get you to spend money. In fact, she once tried to intimidate my best friend Lizzie into buying a pair of shoes that simply didn’t fit. “Now,” the woman tells me, “you’re a vision! You must wear it out of the store. It’s divine.”

Hard-sell tactics.

“It is rather delish…” I said in my fake posh accent, turning to the side as if to inspect myself. Christ, that wine has affected my bravado.

“It’s yours,” said the saleswoman. “I can’t let you leave without it. It fits you perfectly. It wants you, dear.”

I smile at myself undecidedly for a moment, then let out a breath and say, “I’ll take it.”

“Lovely!” says the woman, with a flutter of applause.

Now is the time to commence the drama, as per Sam’s plan. My heart knows this too because it starts to pump more loudly, filling up my head. On cue, I gasp at my reflection and touch my earlobe. “Oh my God,” I announce, with panic in my voice, “I’ve lost my diamond earring!” This, of course, is a lie. The earring I am wearing is one of a pair, but Sammy has the other—it isn’t lost at all.

The saleswoman noticeably withers. “Well, I don’t think you were wearing it when you walked in.”

“Yes, I was!” I return, like a proper person of privilege. “I checked I had both earrings on before I tried the dress. They’re brand new.” I race back to the cubicle, acting breathless and traumatized. “The diamond alone is worth over a grand,” I say, getting down on my hands and knees and checking under the seat. “I was going to insure them, but my boyfriend only just gave them to me—” I claw around the carpet as if desperate for the find. “I can’t buy that dress until I find it.”

Within five minutes, I have us both frantically searching the shop floor.

Finally, after enough of a performance, I tell her I am late for the theatre. I go and change my clothes, before returning to the counter and saying, “Look, I can’t buy the dress now.

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