Chapter 2
Griffin
There are people who are ridiculously rich. And then, there’s the von Knopf family kind of rich. Knowing just how much they’re worth, makes this party more of a joke, than anything.
The smuggled brass band—they were playing at a party two weeks ago for the Queen, at a private party at Balmoral Castle. The sixteenth century wine—more like nineteenth century. I know, because I have four bottles of it myself.
The strawberries picked by Hungarian nuns? That one’s actually true.
But the point is, the family is trying too hard to be more than what they are when they don’t need to. And nobody questions it. Everyone goes along with the spun web of lies, as if it’s all fact.
That’s why I love stealing from the rich. They make it so damn easy. I’ve been at this party for an hour, and I’ve already managed to help myself to sixty thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry from unsuspecting marks.
It’s chump change really, when compared to what I’m here for. I’m here for something with a much bigger price tag attached.
I’m here for the Kalista Canary.
That shiny ring can easily fetch ten million dollars on the market, possibly more, depending on how the bidding goes among the buyers. Anything less than eight figures, isn’t worth my time and effort. It’s why my reputation as the best, is well earned.
Because Griffin Ignatius Abernathy—or the Gryphon, as I’m known professionally—is the best.
In any given room, at any given event, I’m the best in the room. I can dance with any woman and make them look like a world champion. I can out wit, out talk any world leader—and charm their wives out of their panties, while I’m at it.
You need someone to show you wonders in the bedroom you’ve never experienced before? I’m your man.
If you believe some rumors about me, I’ve made women climax, just from saying their name. Now, a proper gentleman never kisses and tells, so I won’t confirm or deny if there is truth to that rumor or not.
But as good as I am at all of that—and I am—I’m the absolute best, when it comes to, being a thief. I’m so good at my job that I was able to pocket jewelry off from Her Majesty, The Queen. I returned the jewelry on the same night, without anyone noticing.
I’m a thief, but I’m also a Brit. There’s no way that I was going to steal permanently from the Queen.
The security here is nowhere near as tight around Kalista, as it was around the Queen. So taking that lovely ring from the lovely creature Kalista von Knopf is going to be easier than taking candy from a baby.
From across the hall, my eyes linger on the heiress. I’ve seen her in plenty of magazines and all over the usual social media sites. None of them come close to capturing just how gorgeous she is in person.
Her black hair, which moves like silk, is darker than the night sky. Her eyes are a vibrant blue, like the sky on a cloudless summer day.
She’s slender and curvy, with a body that’s toned from hours of working out.
Kalista von Knopf is the kind of woman that men create in their sleep while dreaming about the kind of life that I live.
A server with a tray of champagne walks by, and I grab a glass from the tray, without removing my attention from the birthday girl. I’d like to say that I’m not one to mix business with pleasure, but then, that would be a lie.
I almost always mix business with pleasure. And considering that I didn’t bring a gift to the party—rude of me, I know—it would only be fair to give Kalista a little fun, before I steal that decadent ring of hers.
“Excuse me, but I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
I turn to look at my side, where the voice calls out to me.
The woman is in her mid-thirties, bottle blonde—attractive, if I’m being honest—and thoroughly drunk. Her dark eyes are a glossed over from too much champagne, and the lopsided smile on her face isn’t there on purpose.
“No, we haven’t.”
“Ooh, you’re British. I love British men.”
“Well that’s because only British men are real men.”
The woman tips back her glass of champagne and finishes it in one gulp.
I can only imagine what her total is after that glass.
“Thirsty love?” I ask with a friendly chuckle.
“Oh, you have no idea, my yummy British friend.”
“Well, aren’t you the forward type?”
She takes a step forward and places her hand on my chest. Her cheeks flush a shade of ruby that matches the earrings dangling from her lobes. The mystery woman bites down on her bottom lip and looks up into my eyes.
She’s thirsty alright, and it’s not for more champagne.
“You know, I have a nice, big, and empty room upstairs that we could enjoy. And I could show you just what it is that I’m thirty for.”
Honestly, if the woman wasn’t so incredibly drunk, I would likely take her up on the offer. But I make sure that any woman I sleep with is in complete control of her mental faculties.
Taking advantage of a woman in such a manner, is not my thing.
I reach down and take the woman’s hand in my own.
“I’m sorry love, but I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
I try to let the woman down as easily as possible, but I can see the sudden flare of anger in her eyes at my rejection.
“And why not?”
“Well I’m not too sure Kalista would enjoy me wandering off with one of her guests.”
The woman raises an eyebrow and scoffs. She mutters something under her breath about Kalista always getting what she wants. Then, she storms away without another word.
I look down at the diamond ring I slipped off the woman’s hand and grin. It’s from Tiffany’s and worth about ten thousand dollars.
Not a bad grab to make up for the awkward encounter.
Then, I think about her words about Kalista.
And then about Kalista herself. She’s sharper than I had imagined.
I had expected some half-witted heiress too drunk to remember her own name. But to see her working her crowd of guests has been impressive. The woman has some natural skill with people that could give others in my line of work a run for their money.
Kalista is going to be one hell of a CEO, when her day comes.
No doubt, she’ll take the world by storm.
It’ll be interesting to see. But tonight, she’s just another mark. Maybe the most beautiful mark I’ve ever stolen from—but a job, nonetheless.