4. Vogue

The morning drags on,and each lecture adds another block of time that I tick off in my head. My skin burns from where the guys cut me, but it's a good kind of burn. Possessive, obsessive and dark. It sends a thrill going over me, and I wish they'd stuck around afterwards, but they were on a mission, and there was nothing else for me to do except come to class. The fact that I feel like this was the worse option doesn't sit right with me, but then there's nothing much I can do about that. My life has changed since stepping foot here, and now, I even wonder if I want to carry on doing this. What's the point? I've already decided that Dad can give me everything I want, and while the old me would've hated it, the new me is grabbing whatever opportunity strikes to move up in this world. I'm tired of being on the bottom rung.

Work hard, and you'll make it to the top. That's what Mum used to say, but I'm twenty-three, I've worked hard my entire life, and even when I leave here, without The Crowned Syndicate, I will still have nothing. I'll have to compete for jobs I can do with my eyes closed and probably still take another ten years to get what I can get in a few months working with Dad.

With him.

That's what makes this even more appealing—as if it wasn't already. I won't be working for anyone. The darkness has called and seduced me in ways my poor, starved body has begged so many nights for, and I've snatched it up. I don't actually give a fuck what anyone thinks about that because they haven't been in my shoes, and they aren't standing in them now, so no one has a right to judge me or my choices.

Sighing as I pull my attention back to the stand-in professor, seeing as Harrow has disappeared. I still don't know what happened with the Vipers. I haven't had much time with the guys to ask.

So, I sit here, whiling away the time, bored and ready for more action.

As the lecture finally ends, I pack away my stuff and run out of the lecture hall, determined to find one of the guys and ask what the situation is regarding me and getting more involved, when I run into Thayer lurking outside.

"Hey!" I say, grabbing his arm, lighting up like a Christmas tree as he gives me that gaze that makes my clit twitch.

"Hey," he murmurs, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me in close. He presses his lips to mine and gives me a kiss that leaves me panting. I brush my hand over the front of his pants, making my intentions known.

He smiles. It's wicked and telling, but he shakes his head and takes my hand, leading me away from the other students milling around.

"Later," he murmurs. "And in public where anyone could walk in on us."

"Yes," I breathe, remembering my first time with Quentin on the hilltop out in the open. It was thrilling and exciting.

Gazing up at Thayer, awestruck that this deeply possessive and morally bankrupt man wants me as much as I want him, I see a glint in his eye that spells trouble—or excitement, depending on how you look at it.

"We're heading out for an adventure," he says, voice low.

"Adventure? What kind?"

"Can't tell you yet." He grins, and I can tell he enjoys keeping me in suspense.

"Well, that sucks. Look, I want more responsibility. I need to get into the nitty-gritty."

"And you will, baby girl. Tonight, you will see what I can do, and I want you there as you watch me work my magic. Then afterwards… I'm going to fuck you so hard your cunt will beg me for more, and I'll need to hear the words, baby girl. Understand?"

"Yes," I pant, already desperate for him.

He sees it in my gaze and smiles slowly, sexily, before he pushes me up against an old oak tree in the middle of campus with people all around. He presses his body close to mine, his fingers deftly unzipping my jeans. His hand goes inside, and I part my legs with a soft gasp.

He's giving me what I want in part, and I'm aware of the danger, the thrill of being caught, and the recklessness of it all, but I don't care. My breath hitches when he finds my clit, rolling it between his fingers that sends a spike racing through my blood.

I bite down on my lip to silence a moan, eyes fluttering closed as Thayer works me over with an intimacy that's both terrifying and intoxicating. The world around us fades to a dim background noise, a blur of voices and footsteps that don't matter. Not when his touch is drawing tight spirals of desire through my core.

"Shh," he whispers against my ear, his hot breath sending another wave of shudders through me. "Can't let them know what a dirty girl you are."

His words are a lash, igniting something wild within me. My nails dig into his upper arm through his shirt as I fight to stay silent, to brace against the building climax.

"That's it, baby girl. Come for me where everyone can see you."

"Ah!" I cry out softly as he brushes his lips over mine, his fingers circling faster, slippery with my juices. "Fuck."

"Mm," he purrs as he slides his fingers inside me to thrust a couple of times before teasing my clit again.

I come for him, my pussy spasming tightly as he works me into a hot, sweaty climax with just his fingers and a whispered command. I'm shaking, and my knees buckle, but he's holding me up against the tree, his body a solid wall that doesn't yield. The orgasm rips through me like a hurricane, leaving me breathless and sagging in his arms.

He pulls his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean while he watches me with eyes full of dark promises. "Good girl," he says, voice thick with satisfaction.

People walk by us, oblivious to the sin we've just committed in broad daylight. Thayer zips me up with a smirk that could tempt saints to sin, then takes my hand like nothing obscene had just transpired between us.

"Back to class. I'll see you later," he murmurs and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his lips before he drifts away from me, leaving me desolate and needing his touch all over my body.

I let out a low groan and fling my head back before I do as he says, needing some kind of distraction.

The rest of the day drags by so slowly, and when I walk back to the penthouse with Harry as my guard, I take his hand and give him a wicked smile.

"Now?" he asks, eager and up for it.

"Later," I murmur. "But I'm done waiting for you."

"Fuck," he murmurs, pulling me close.

I smile to myself, glad I'm not the only one affected by the power of seduction.

Back in my room, Harry gives me a lingering kiss, gripping my chin tightly before he leaves me with a sexy smile. Turning from him, I throw my backpack down and strip off before I pull on black jeans and a dark hoodie. I wonder what Thayer has up his sleeve, but whatever it is, it'll probably be illegal. When he knocks, there's no mistaking the adrenaline rush, the thrill of the unknown.

"Ready?" he asks, eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"As I'll ever be. Can you tell me now where we're going?"

Thayer's smirk doesn't waver. "We're pulling an art heist."

I freeze, the words ‘art heist' echoing in my mind. As I thought. It's big, it's illegal, and it's... exhilarating.

"Art. That's your thing?"

"Mostly," he says. "My family runs a few major art galleries as fronts for black market stuff."

"Ah, so we're going to pick up some merch?"

He snorts. "Merch? You reading up on the lingo, baby girl?"

I giggle. He isn't mocking me; he is more like enjoying my path to the dark side, "Making it up as I go along."

"That works, too." He takes my hand and kisses it. "You ready?"

I nod.

He hands me a knife. It's wicked-looking, with a curved blade and a serrated edge. "Take this."

"Why?" I ask, with a shaking hand. "I don't know how to use it."

"Someone attacks you, you use every ounce of adrenaline coursing through your veins to stab them. Can you do that?"

"Yes. I can do that."

"Good girl," he purrs again, and it lights a fire in my pussy that just won't quit around him.

"After this, I want you," I say, hearing the desperation in my voice.

He pulls me close and kisses my temple. "You'll have me."

"Okay," I say, confidence roaring through my body. "Let's do it."

Thayer nods once, satisfied, and I follow him out into the darkness, where the night awaits our next move.

He helps me into a SUV I've never seen before and we set off, driving towards the city as the night closes in around us.

We pull up a bit away from the museum, a monolith of shadows against the city's skyline.

"Here's the deal," he says, his voice barely a ripple in the quiet as he turns to me. "I take the lead on disarming the system. You're on watch. Eyes sharp, Vogue. We can't afford slip-ups."

"Look out. Got it," I reply, my heart thumping in a steady rhythm. This is the moment where everything I want will filter through to me, and it's up to me what I do with it.

"Remember, it's all about timing," he continues, his tone serious. "When I give the signal, we move. Not a second before. Understand?" Thayer slips on a pair of gloves, and I mimic him with the pair he hands me, slipping them over trembling fingers.

"Understand." The word feels solid, heavy with promise. I'm not just Vogue Jameson anymore. I'm Vogue Jameson McGowan. I'm someone who matters in this game of shadows and stolen beauty.

"Good." He nods once, a brief dip of his head that somehow says more than any pep talk ever could. "Let's go make some history."

"Or become history," I murmur, and he chuckles darkly.

"Let's try not to let that happen."

As we slip out of the car and into the night, we head down an alley, some way from the museum, sticking close to the wall. I follow Thayer as he slips through the shadows like a ninja.

Me? I'm not so graceful and trip over the remnants of a sad-looking cardboard box before nearly stepping in something that appears to be vomit.

"God," I mutter. "I thought this was going to be glamorous."

Thayer presses his lips together as he lets out a muffled guffaw. "Sorry, baby girl. Nothing glam about skulking down an alleyway. Maybe one day you'll get in on a heist from the inside."

I grab his arm, pulling him to a stop. "That's an option?"

"Not tonight. This is too time sensitive. But yeah, one day."

"Soon," I grit out, knowing fancy dresses and canapes is a world-a-fucking-way from soggy boxes and vom.

We slide through the night, him like a shadow, me like Bambi, but eventually, he stops and indicates the back entrance to the museum. He pulls something out of his black pants and flicks it on.

"Jammer," he murmurs, pointing to the CCTV up above the door.

I nod knowingly but am secretly impressed.

"The Guards are at the front. They won't patrol for another thirty minutes."

Then we are in front of the door, and Thayer's fingers move like he's playing some high-stakes piano, tapping away at the keypad with a finesse that has me holding my breath. He pulls another device from his pocket, sleek and ominous, and hooks it onto the panel. The small screen on it lights up, running numbers and codes in a sequence too fast for me to follow.

"Don't watch me," he murmurs without looking at me, his attention never wavers from the task at hand.

"Oh, shit, yeah." I grimace and turn to play lookout.

Each beep from the device seems to echo in my ears, syncing with the rapid tempo of my pulse.

Finally, Thayer removes the device, tucking it back into his pocket. "Done," he mutters. The door handle turns, and we're inside, plunged into darkness lit only by a thousand lasers crisscrossing our path.

"Fuck. What now?"

He grins and crosses over to a panel on the wall as the door closes behind us silently.

A few swift movements, and the lasers flicker before dying altogether. "I've disabled the main security grid," he whispers. "But we've got minimal time before backup systems kick in. Let's move."

We dart through the corridors until we reach the gallery housing our target.

The door to the exhibit room opens with a soft click that resonates louder in my ears than any alarm. As Thayer steps inside, I trail behind him, each step measured and silent. The room sprawls before us, a cavern of shadows and light where the artworks command their space, their colours muted yet vibrant under the spotlights.

My gaze flits across the room, taking in the paintings and sculptures that are worth more than I can even fathom. They're beautiful, haunting almost, in the way they seem to watch us intruders with frozen eyes. But I can't get lost in admiration; there's a job to do.

Thayer moves with a predator's grace, every motion calculated and deliberate as he approaches the first piece. Meanwhile, I stand watch, my senses razor-sharp for any sign of movement or noise that doesn't belong. The soft hum of the climate control system is the only sound that fills the air, a backdrop to the silent heist unfolding before me. Every cell in my body is awake, alive with the thrill and fear of what we're doing. It's a high I've never felt before, and it's intoxicating.

Thayer's hands are steady as he lifts the first painting from its frame, a masterful touch that doesn't even ripple the air. He works quickly, deftly unhooking the wire, tilting the canvas with precision. My job is to watch and wait, a coiled spring, ready to sound the alarm or stab someone if need be. I can't afford a slip-up—not tonight. Remembering the knife, I grip it tightly.

My gaze darts from shadow to shadow, every statue and darkened corner a potential hiding spot for guards we've bypassed. I'm listening too—straining my ears for footsteps, the tell-tale sign of someone coming when they shouldn't.

Thayer rolls the masterpiece into a cylinder with expert care and slips it into a tube that looks innocuous, nothing like what you'd expect for transporting stolen goods.

"Let's go," he murmurs, and we turn around, slinking back the way we came.

We slip out the back door of the museum, the night air cool against my skin. Thayer's grip on the tube is tight, knuckles white even in the dim light. My pulse races, not just from the thrill of what we've done but also from the anticipation of what's to come.

As we walk away, Thayer flicks the jammer, and the CCTV goes active again.

"What now?" I whisper.

"We hand it off to my contact." He ducks across the street, and I follow him to the SUV.

"There," Thayer says. "It's a simple handoff, no talking."

I nod, seeing the man who can't seem to stand still. He checks his watch, turns around, peeks into the darkness—a nervous twitch here, a jerky movement there. It's like he's itching to bolt. Something about him sets off alarms in my head.

I don't like this. But what do I know?

When we reach him, Thayer hands over the case. But the second it leaves his grasp, the guy snatches it and spins on his heel, walking away fast—too fast.

Thayer and I exchange a look, and his face goes dark before he pulls out his knife. I've got mine, shoved up my hoodie sleeve, but run after Thayer as he takes off after the man.

Thayer lunges after him, but the contact draws a blade that catches the light menacingly.

My heart lurches into action. There's no time to think, only to react, so I move forward as well.

But I'm already too late. Thayer is fast—really fast. He swings, and the guy drops like a sack of bricks, sprawled across the grimy pavement, the knife skittering away into darkness. I'm frozen for a split second, adrenaline buzzing through my veins before I rush to Thayer's side.

He glares down at me. This is Thayer in his element—cold, calculated. He presses something into my hand, and I look down at the van keys. "Go and get the car. Bring it right here."

I nod and head off instantly, running over the pavement as it starts to rain. Unlocking the SUV, I leap into it and fire up the engine, lurching forward as I crawl down the road and stop next to Thayer and the guy he has hauled up to his feet, his arm wrapped around him like he's helping a drunken buddy get a taxi.

He opens the back door and shoves the unconscious guy in before climbing in behind him and slamming the door closed.

"Go," he snaps, and I go.

Where to… I don't have a fucking clue.

Thayer throws the art onto the front seat next to me as I try to drive without drawing too much attention to ourselves, but fuck. That's not easy. How do you do that when you're hauling around an unconscious man and stolen artwork?

Thayer pulls out his phone and dials. His voice is low, almost a growl, as he speaks to whoever's on the other end.

"Head towards the back of campus," he instructs, and I nod, having no words.

"Are you good?" Thayer breaks the silence after a minute, his voice rough like gravel.

"Fine," I lie, keeping my eyes fixed ahead. We don't speak again, the tension between us thick enough to slice through.

We roll into Crestmont, and everything is quiet. The usual buzz of student life is long gone at this hour. I navigate the SUV around to the back of the campus as ordered.

I don't need to ask where to pull up. It becomes obvious.

Cal, Quen, and Harry are shadows waiting for us, their forms slowly taking shape as we approach. They've been here before, done this before, but it doesn't make my heart beat any less erratically. I check the rearview mirror—the guy is still out cold, bound now and unaware of his fast-approaching fate.

I roll to a stop as Cal opens the back door and nods once.

Then, I watch as the guys move into action.