Stealing the Show (The Blind Bet) (The Blind Bet)

Leila Brown


Rated: 3.00 of 5 stars
3.00 ·
[?] · 1 ratings · Published: 02 Feb 2011

Stealing the Show  (The Blind Bet) (The Blind Bet) by Leila Brown
Seven thieves. Seven days. Seven priceless prizes. One chance to prove who's the best.

Christopher Pillow is the world's best thief. After entering a challenge online he'll have to prove it. But when he finds out what the challenge is, will he be in over his head? The only bright side is it'll give him the opportunity to dominate Alessia Dommine. A prize in itself.


***This is a re-release of Stealing the Show.***
Word Count @ 9500 words



EXCERPT:

From: Zeus@theblindbet.com
To: TheMaster@theblindbet.com
Subject: The Bet

Blush By Incognito

You have 7 days.

* * * * *

Christopher Pillow glanced down at the digital readout on his watch. Eight-forty five. In roughly one day he would either be pulling off the biggest heist in the history of Milan Fashion Week, or he would be stuck in some Milanese jail.
He looked around the tiny club. The place was so small it barely boasted a dance floor at all. That didn’t keep the semi-drunk and horny men and women from flinging their bodies to the music. Any other time he’d be out there, too, rubbing up against those models until he found a willing partner to go home with.
From his perch at the end of the bar he could see everyone as they walked in. He needed to stop looking at the gyrating bodies and concentrate on why he was here. Alessia Dommine. The one woman with what he needed.
Five minutes of nursing that damned ginger ale before his waiting paid off. A group of stick thin models walked in and on their heels was the woman he’d been looking for. She was a knock out. Full lips, a pert nose, and her genuine smile charmed him. Her thin gold shirt showcased a nice set of rounded breasts and a slender waist.
She laughed at something one of the hopelessly thin women said then threw her honey-kissed hair over her shoulder. Oh yes. He was definitely going to enjoy the next twenty-four hours.
Christopher signaled to the bartender. “One glass of your best champagne to the young woman in the gold top at that table.”
“I’m sorry, sir, our best champagne only comes by the bottle.” The snooty man turned up his nose.
Christopher grinned and handed over several thousand-dollar bills. “Send her a bottle then.” He could afford it. Hell, it’d probably surprise that bastard to find out just what he could afford.
The bartender hurried off. If he pulled this off it would be worth a hundred times the cost of that bottle. One bet. One week. And one chance to be the best. And he was the best.
A waiter left the bar with a large bottle and headed to the table of giggling women. When the man set the bottle down, Alessia tried to wave him off. The waiter paid her no attention and set down seven flutes then pointed at him. Christopher lifted his hand in a tiny salute. He smiled at the wary look on her face.
Her friends held none of her reserve. They popped the bottle open and poured. She reluctantly accepted a flute and raised a toast to him. The movement caused her shirt to stretch wide across her breasts. Her nipples poked through the thin fabric of her shirt. Is she wearing a bra? He doubted it, and his cock hardened at the thought.
Christopher downed the rest of his drink, then turned and stood. He made his way to her table. Just as he stepped up on the tiny raised dais they turned up the bottle and drained the last few drops.
“Hello, ladies. I trust you enjoyed the champagne?” He quirked an eyebrow at Alessia’s half full glass. “Not your favorite?”
“Ohh, he’s American.” A blonde woman cooed. She batted her eyes up at him. A ploy that no doubted worked with most men.
Unfortunately for her, he liked his women with more curves. Hell, her breasts wouldn’t fill one hand. He turned to Alessia and raised an eyebrow at her.
“No. No. We enjoyed the bottle. I would ask you to sit and share some, but it’s all gone.”
“No problem. We’ll just have to order another bottle.”




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