Jennifer Estep - Wasted

The woman was one of the most beautiful creatures that I’d ever seen.

Five feet four inches of soft, curvy perfection poured into a tight suit jacket and a short skirt that let me see just how exquisite her breasts and legs were. Then again, everything about her was exquisite and whispered of money, from the artful tousle of her red curls to the diamond brooch set into her jacket to the shine of her French pedicure.

This was a woman who took care of herself, probably with a strict regimen of diet, exercise, and Air elemental facials. Hell, she might have even been one of Jo-Jo Deveraux’s clients over at the dwarf’s popular beauty salon. I made a mental note to ask Jo-Jo the next time that I saw her—and see if the dwarf had any more gorgeous gals that she was keeping to herself and out of my greedy clutches.

The woman stood in the lobby of my bank, First Trust of Ashland, looking exactly like all the other obscenely wealthy clients that came in through the glass double doors on a daily basis. With its heavy, antique wooden furniture, gold leaf accents, and white marble floor, the bank had been designed to reflect the largesse of its customers. Everything was expensive and understated, just the way that our clients wanted it to be.

Her eyes scanned the long counter than ran down the left wall before moving to the door at the end—the one that led down to the offices and the bank’s vault deep underground.

I was standing on the opposite side of the bank, sitting on the edge of a desk and talking to Pete, our stock analyst, about the shopping trip that he’d recently taken to Bigtime, New York with his lover and all the divine Fiona Fine menswear that they’d come back to Ashland with.

“Duty calls,” I said, getting to my feet.

Pete followed my gaze and snorted. “It always does every time a pretty woman walks through the door, Finn.”

“You’re just jealous that she’s not a dude.”

“Hardly. Dave and I are very happy.”

I grinned at him. “But it never hurts to look, does it?”

Pete just laughed and concentrated on his computer monitor once more.

I smoothed down my green tie, the one that I knew brought out the matching color of my eyes, and headed over to her. My wingtips clacked on the floor, drawing her attention. She looked up at my approach, and I hit her with a small smile, which of course she returned. I was Finnegan Lane, after all. Charming, handsome, rich. A hard combination for any woman to resist.

I stopped a few feet away, just looking at her. Up close, she was even more stunning, with sun-kissed skin, hazel eyes, and lush lips that just begged to be kissed. I also noticed a small set of gleaming white fangs in her mouth. She was a vampire then, not that it mattered to me in the slightest. Giant, dwarf, vampire, elemental, a regular old human like me. I admired women no matter what kind of strength, magic, or lack thereof that they had.

“Are you the manager?” she asked in a light, sweet voice.

I breathed in. Her perfume smelled of honeysuckle, subtle and expensive. Nice—very nice. “Nope, I’m not the manager, but I’m sure that I can help you. The name’s Lane, Finnegan Lane. My friends call me Finn.”

And then, I gave her my most charming smile, the one that had eventually led to more than one woman falling into bed with me. I liked women, you see. Liked everything about them. The way they walked, talked, smelled, laughed, smiled, and most especially, the way they felt in my arms—smooth, soft, supple.

But instead of returning my smile, the woman’s mouth flattened out. “Oh. Well, where is he?”

“I’m sure that I can help you,” I said, giving her another hit of my pearly whites. “I’m one of the senior associates here.”

If anything, my polite insistence that I could help repulsed her even more.

“No,” she said, clutching her purse to her exquisite chest and shaking her head. “I need to see the manager. Nobody else.”

I frowned. “But—”

“What seems to be the problem here, Lane?” a man’s voice cut in.

Andrew Stevens, the bank manager, stepped up to us. Stevens was a tall, trim fellow with a slick shark’s smile that was just as dazzling as mine was. His only flaw was a growing bald spot that he unsuccessfully tried to hide with a combover. Despite the fact that I’d worked with the man for three years now, that combover still made me shudder every time that I laid eyes on it. I ran my hand through my own thick, walnut-colored hair in reassurance.

“Are you the manager?” the woman asked, staring at him.

Stevens nodded. “I am. How can I help you today …”

“Clarissa,” she replied in a soft voice, holding out her hand. “Clarissa Divine.”

Stevens could be just as smooth as I could, and he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it. “Well, Ms. Divine, it’s a pleasure to meet you. How can I assist you?”

Clarissa waved her purse. “I have some … family jewels that need to be put in a safe location. Some items that my soon-to-be ex-husband doesn’t need to know anything about. I was told that you could help me with that sort of thing.”

Stevens nodded and held out his arm. “Of course. If you’ll just come with me, Ms. Divine, I’m sure that we can find a solution to your problem.”

She took his arm and smiled at him then, a bright, dazzling smile that was a pleasure to behold in and of itself. But the real bonus was the warm, inviting look in her eyes—the one that whispered of so many delicious things to come.

I frowned, wondering why the hell Stevens was getting that smile, that look, instead of me. I’d seen her first, after all. And when Finnegan Lane put his mind to seducing a woman, as I had with Clarissa the second that I’d seen her, I was usually successful, no matter what obstacles got in my way—overbearing friends, jealous boyfriends, pistol-packing husbands.

Stevens gave me a triumphant smile and escorted her across the floor and through the door at the far end of the counter, no doubt taking her down to his office. Of course, he could have asked one of the tellers here in the lobby to hook her up with a safety deposit box, but I knew that Stevens wanted to give Clarissa his own personal attention.

I would have done the same, if I’d been in the lucky bastard’s wingtips.

Clarissa Divine came into the bank several times after that. The second time, Stevens walked up to the lobby to meet her. The third time, she came in just at closing, and the two of them left together. The fourth time, the very next day, she walked over to the door by the counter, and Stevens buzzed her down. After that, she came and went as she pleased, so often that the giant guard stationed in the lobby automatically went over to open the door for her.

Stevens wasn’t as much of a prick about the situation as I would have been. If I’d been with a creature as beautiful as Clarissa, I would have bragged about it to everyone, from the folks at the bank to my friend, Jo-Jo, and her sister, Sophia Deveraux, to my foster sister, Gin Blanco. Stevens contented himself with a mild, knowing smirk in my direction every now and then.

It still made me want to shoot the bastard, though.

One day, about six weeks after Clarissa’s initial visit, I was in my office trying to find another tax shelter for one of my Ice elemental clients to put some more of her considerable family fortune into when the intercom on my desk buzzed.

“Yes?”

“You have a visitor, Finn,” the voice of Celia, one of the tellers, filled my ear. “A giant. Says his name is Xavier.”