"Curious Irish accent as well," I added, stepping even a little closer, my eyes trailing over the silver tray of hors d'oeuvres and the bottle of wine she tried to quickly hide behind her back.
"I do believe I've caught a thief," I said, biting my lip.
"I'm not a thief," she protested, dropping the bad Liam Neeson impersonation.
"An American thief, no less."
The girl defiantly raised her chin and jutted forward her jaw, tucking her loose strands of hair behind her ears. "Sir, as an employee of this hotel I will not take any harassment from clearly intoxicated guests such as yourself," she said. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go alert security."
I grabbed hold of her arm as she tried to slip past me. "What hotel?"
The girl's eyes flashed up toward mine, their hazel colour as wild and rugged as the stretches of desert from pictures of America. "What?"
I grinned down at her. "What hotel?" I repeated, punctuating each word this time.
The girl hesitated.
"You're an honest employee of this hotel," I said sweetly. "Surely you can tell this clearly intoxicated guest who is harassing you the name of said hotel?"
The girl glared angrily up at me and then wrestled her arm from my grip. "Tell me what you want," she said, daring me with those fiery eyes. "Let's just get it over with already."
It was my turn to stare at her as I opened my mouth to speak, only to realise that I didn't exactly have an immediate answer to her question. At first, all I wanted was directions to the bathroom so I could piss and hurry back to deliver a heartless speech to appease Bill and the senior partners. But this girl clearly had no better idea than I as to where the bathrooms in the hotel where located.
It wasn't like I really cared that she was stealing a few bites of dates and an overpriced bottle of wine. As far as I was concerned, it was hotel's fault for not being better managed. I actually rather admired her taking advantage of the current system; it wasn't far off from what a corporate lawyer did.
So why was I still here, in the hallway opposite her? What did I want from her?
I, frankly, wasn't sure. All I knew was that I didn't want to leave.
"You want me to make up some sob story?" the girl prodded when I remained silent. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, "You want me to tell you all about how my parents both died in a car crash and I've burnt through their inheritance and I'm all alone with no money and no future? Do you get off on sad, helpless little girls?"
She moved really closed to me, pouted her lips up at me, and held her clasped hands beneath her chin as her eyes watered.
"Does that work on a lot of people?" I asked, nodding at her. "That story? Those puppy dog eyes?"
The girl shrugged, stepping back a little. "It works with the ones who have hearts, at least."
I chuckled darkly. "I'm a lawyer. I don't have one of those," I told her. "What else you got?"
The girl drummed her fingers along her chin. "Money?"
I laughed. "Money? I'm not sure you own another shirt, let alone five whole euros," I said incredulously. "Does that work on a lot of people?"
The girl grinned. "It works on the ones who don't have brains," she said, and then added, "So lots."
"Well, I'll pass on the lucky penny in your sock, thank you very much," I said. "What's next?"
The girl looked me up and down slowly, assessing me with those intelligent hazel eyes which sparked mischievously. I sucked in a surprised breath when she moved in close again, grabbed onto the lapels of my suit jacket, and stretched up onto her tiptoes. Her breath was hot against my neck.
"You want me to give myself over to you?" she whispered, pressing her chest against mine. "You want to feel that sense of power over me?"
She rolled her hips slowly, tantalisingly against my crotch before falling back to her feet.
"I imagine that works quite often," I said, grinning devilishly.
The girl bit her lip and quirked an eyebrow. "It works with the ones who don't have souls," she said. "Do you have one of those?"
Her eyes studied mine as mine studied hers. "I don't know," I said slowly. "I'm very rich."
"Strike one." The girl held up a single finger, the middle one, of course.
"I work for an international corporate law firm."
The girl whistled, raising a second finger. "That's super-villain stuff right there. Strike two for sure."
I grinned. "And I occasionally jaywalk."
The girl mocked outrage as she lifted the third and final finger.
"Three strikes, you're out," she said, thumbing over her shoulder. "I'm sorry to say it, but you have no soul. So do you want to take me against the wall or on the floor? How do you feel about being called dad—?"
“Stop.” I grabbed her wrist, delicate and narrow as the bones along a bird's wing, to stop her from unbuttoning her vest. Her eyes found mine, her gaze going suddenly soft.
"I think you're a liar," she whispered, a little crook tugging up the corner of her lips, pink like tiny desert flowers.
"A liar?" I whispered back.
She nodded, almost imperceptibly. "I think you do have a soul, Mr Stranger in a Suit."
When I remained silent, the girl nodded again.
"Yeah, I think you're a bold-faced liar."
I narrowed my eyes a little at her, trying to keep a smile of my own from my lips. "Well, you're a thief."
She grinned. "So you're a liar and I'm a thief," she said. "We're made for one another."
It was in that moment, with my face
