The Con Artist

Sara's POV

I couldn't betray a flicker of panic. Not now. I had to stay in character. Evelyn Rodriguez, the untouchable heiress.

"Don't you read signs?" I asked, my voice dripping with disdain. The man's tailored suit screamed wealth, his polished loafers screaming wealth under the bathroom's light.

I can smell the rich ones from a mile away. And this one was-

He slipped off his sunglasses, and my stomach lurched.

Thomas Grey.

America's billionaire bachelor, owner of this glittering empire. And lots more.

His face twisted into a scowl. "Sara Anderson. Wannabe socialite and sophisticate."

My heart pounded in my chest, but years of cons kept my expression ironclad. How did he know my real name? Evelyn Rodriguez was a ghost, known to a few I had dealt business with. And Thomas Grey was certainly not in that list. At least, not in that way.

Sara Anderson?

She didn't exist to men like Thomas Grey.

He stepped closer, the air thinning with each stride. Even with that frown and the anxiety clawing my chest, I couldn't ignore how devastatingly handsome he was up close. I'd seen him on screens, in public spaces from afar, and a night in a dim lit room, but those piercing green eyes? They were new. And they looked ridiculously charming.

His hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me from my thoughts.

"I have a job for you," he said, voice low, commanding.

I wrenched my arm free, glaring. "I don't know who you think you are," I spat, "but you've got the wrong woman. This Sara Anderson is surely Not me. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I brushed past him, aiming for the door, my mind screaming. I would never come back to this building.

But a hulking figure stood in the doorway, his face a stone wall, stern. My pulse quickened. Had they seen the swap?

Thomas sauntered toward me, a predator's smile curling his lips. "You'll do as I say, or you'll rot in jail."

I rolled my eyes, masking the thunder in my chest. "Jail?" I scoffed. "Do you know who I am?"

He leaned in, his breath grazing my ear. I caught the scent of his cologne

Creed Aventus, sharp and decadent, the kind that could fund a month in Bali.

If he weren't threatening me, I might've imagined tasting that scent on his skin.

Again.

"Like I said," he murmured, "Sara Anderson." He straightened, eyes glinting. "Drop the Evelyn Rodriguez act. I know what you've done."

He nodded to the hulk, who snatched my purse with a force I couldn't resist. Before I could scream assault, the diamond necklace, my million-dollar ticket, dangled from his fingers, its face glistening under the light.

My dream...gone.

Thomas caught the necklace, cradling it in his pampered hand. "When I saw you strut into my mall, I knew you were trouble," he said.

I squared my shoulders, voice steady despite the throb in my throat.

"Just because you own a jewelry store peddling fakes doesn't mean every gem is yours." I pointed at the necklace, letting my tone sound with feigned hurt. "That was my mother's. I came to find a replica, only to discover your shop is a sham."

A dry chuckle escaped him. He gestured to his guard, who dropped a photo into his hand.

"Carlos Alvarez," Thomas said, holding it up, ignoring my perfect act.

My blood ran cold. I knew that name. Everyone who was involved with the men and women that mattered knew him.

Mafia kingpin and ruthless. They were mere rumours. But we all knew it was true. But who could say it?

"He's moving into my city, trying to outshine me," Thomas continued. "Your job is to expose him for the criminal he is."

Was this billionaire insame? Send me to infiltrate Alvarez's life? I'd take a jail cell over that death sentence. A swap wouldn't land me more than a few years, would it?

I shook my head. "You can't make me. I won't."

He stepped closer, brows knitting, his intensity swallowing the room. "Oh, you will, Evelyn, master con artist. But for this, you're Irene."

The hulk produced an ID card. My face stared back with a different name. Irene Peters.

My facade cracked. Had I walked into a trap? Had he knew all along that I was coming here?

"What the hell is this?" I hissed, Evelyn Rodriguez evaporating. No point pretending to a man who knew too much and was already rewriting my identity.

"Your mission," Thomas said. "Alvarez's businesses launch in six months here in this city. You have stop him. You can't fail."

"I'm sorry," I said, voice flat, steady and my mind made up. "I can't."

"It's not a choice."

Carlos Alvarez? I'd be dead before I got close.

He extended the ID card. I took it, curious.

"There's an opening for his personal assistant," Thomas said. "You'll convince him to hire you. I've crafted a CV with all the credentials and work experience you'll need, but you'll need more than papers to seal the deal. Get the job."

I stared at the card, my mind racing. "If I do this, what's the pay?"

"How does a million dollars sound?"

Mind-blowing.

"And if you don't hold up your end?" I pressed.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I'm Thomas Grey. My word never gets broken." He set the necklace on the washbasin, its sparkle taunting me. "You'll get this when you secure the job."

I eyed the diamonds. "What's stopping me from running once I have it?"

He moved toward the door, pausing to glance back. "You won't."

He said it with so much confidence that frightened me.