“I'm a sad girl, I'm a bad girl”

— Sad Girl, Lana Del Rey

CHAPTER ONE

I gulped the cold liquid eagerly, sighing in satisfaction. I felt my body relax as the drink started to do its thing. There was always comfort and sweetness that could be found in its bitter taste.

I lifted my head and noticed a man staring at me from across the bar. He was average looking and judging by the way he shamelessly checked me out, clearly a pervert. I smiled at him charmingly and his eyes widened in awe as he licked his lips disgustingly, making me want to throw up. Definitely a pervert.

This is what made men easy targets.

Their delusion that men could never be easy targets.

Sitting alone in a bar, sipping expensive wine in my even more expensive dress, all I could think of was whether a smile would be enough for my new target too, or if it would take more than that to trap him.

If fifteen months ago someone had told me that I would be in New York one day, thinking of ways to dupe a rich businessman, steal his money and disappear from his life forever, I would've laughed in their face.

But that was exactly what I was doing today. Exactly what I had been doing since last summer.

I was a con girl. I manipulated people, gained their trust and then robbed them off.

Sick, I know.

Sometimes life knocked the wind out of you with the most brutal punch and it was sadist enough to do it when you were in your most vulnerable state. Some of us, the sane ones perhaps, let that make us braver, welcoming every hit with a courageous smile on our faces. But others got tired of being targeted and decided to turn the tables. Instead of bravely welcoming more hits, we decided to hit back even harder.

Life was cruel and in order to survive, you needed to be crueler.

It wasn't about money, it was about the game. My targets were typically rich bastards who didn't value their money at all, simply because they had always had too much to ever care. I hated those kind of people. The ones who believed money gave them the power to own anything and anyone they wished.

Money could make people inhuman.

hypocrite.

I ignored the voice in my head. I knew it was selfish, but this was the life I had chosen for myself and now there was no going back.

Still, sometimes I felt guilty and there were only a few ways to diminish that feeling. There were people who needed this money way more than I did, so a portion of it went to various charities and donations.

Not going to lie, it made me feel like some modern day Robin Hood. Only my kindness was out of my own selfish reasons, tainting it too.

There were certain boundaries that were needed when you led this kind of a life. For me, there were three simple rules that had never been too difficult to follow.

First, don't get attached. Don't start caring. And don't fall in love. These were the things my target was supposed to be doing, not me.

Second, don't sleep with the target. It made things too easy, less fun. The thrill was in the process-the planning, plotting, executing. The risk of it all.

Third, don't let your target see the real you. After every con, I changed my identity and appearance to be safer. I never let anyone get close to the real Flora Edwards. I conned under various names, sported different hairstyles and even wore contacts a few times. Once, I faked a whole accent for one of my targets. I needed to protect myself, so I hid under a lie, both physically and emotionally.

When reality got too tough to handle, some of us decided it was easier to live a lie. The thing about lies is, once you let yourself get tangled in them, it was hard to come out. Soon, you let yourself get comfortable in your own lies and started loving them too much to ever leave them behind.

I sighed and took another sip of my drink. I couldn't see him properly from where I was seated, but I was well aware of his presence.

Evan Carter.

A rich businessman, an eligible bachelor and a perfect target.

He was different from my other targets, no doubt. I usually went for foolish businessmen, confused foreigners or just horny, desperate excuses of men who would do just anything to get in someone's pants. My targets were rich, but usually easy, not involving too much risk.

At least until now.

Evan was my boldest decision, my riskiest target. It was starting to get boring, going for the same type of men again and again. This was going to be a change. Evan was big jump from what I usually went for and I was absolutely ready for it.

My eyes lingered on him, trying to get a good look even though he was quite far. His face was hidden under his jet black hair and the dim lights made it tougher for me to get a proper look.

A partner in crime was essential for every person. In my case, it was my best friend, Ella Martin. Her current boyfriend, Ben, worked at Carter Cooperation. He held a high position in the company and was well-off. Typically, he would've been a great target, but we were aiming higher this time. Ella mostly works behind the scenes anyway. She wouldn't admit it, but she also seemed to genuinely like Ben, even though their time together could only be temporary.

Soon enough, we came across Evan Carter. A bit of research told us he was exactly what I was searching for. A rich, powerful Casanova who would easy take the bait if it was in the form of an enticing young woman.

When Ella bombarded Ben with questions about his boss, one of the things he mentioned was that Evan often had business meetings at this bar. He must've thought she was simply taking interest in his work life because he easily spilt everything, sadly oblivious to the real reason behind her sudden curiosity.

That was how a plan was devised and now here I was, looking stunning for my first meeting with Evan.

I had been waiting for him to be done so I could finally make my move and saw the opportunity when he got up from his seat and began walking towards a quieter, more secluded area to answer his phone. He disappeared completely from my sight as he turned the corner.

That was my chance.

I didn't want to approach him directly, it had to be accidental or at least seem like it. After all, men were always attracted to woman that were just not interested.

The most cliché, yet efficient idea popped into my mind. I stood up with my glass of wine in my hand and start walking in the direction I saw him go.

I came to a stop when I heard his voice around the corner. He was still on the phone. I could hear him ranting about some bad stats, sounding clearly pissed.

This was either the best time to make a move or the worst one.

I was definitely willing to take the risk and find out.

My feet started moving on their own when I heard Evan get off the phone. I couldn't see him, but I could tell he was getting closer as the sound of his footsteps neared. I took a deep breath in anticipation as I turned the corner in full speed.

"Oof-!" I collided with his rock hard chest as planned and my drink spilled all over his shirt. He had been walking equally fast because of which the collision was harder than I expected, making me lose my balance and tumble backwards. His hands wrapped around my waist, steadying me as my hand gripped his shoulders to prevent myself from falling.

My wide eyes met his sharp ones and I inhaled deeply, taking in his expression.

His face was tight with anger, his hard jaw clenched as he stared me down, his gaze piercing. I could feel his broad shoulders beneath my firm grip, his strong arms encircling my waist. His cologne was masculine with an earthy, sensual scent that warmed up my entire body. His dark hair was styled backwards, a tiny strand flirting over his eyes.

His pictures didn't do him justice.

This was going to be interesting.

"I am so sorry!" I exclaimed. I retrieved my hand from his shoulders and stood up straight as he let go of my waist.

He glanced down at the stain on his shirt and gritted his teeth. For a second, I thought he was going to start yelling at me, but he didn't utter a word. He let out a frustrated breath, rubbing his jaw. Then, without so much as a glance, he sidestepped me. My eyes widened when his shoulder brushes against mine and I realized he was about to walk straight past me.

Just like that. Without a word, without a second glance.

I quickly grabbed his arm, but dropped it just as fast when he turned his head to look at me with his glaring eyes. I calmly took a step towards him so that we were standing face to face.

"Yes?" he demanded in a deep, husky voice, glowering at me as if I was wasting his time. "What do you want?"

"I-" I started confidently, but stopped when I suddenly felt the words getting stuck in my throat. What did I want? "I-I-"

"You what?" he demanded.

Looking into his eyes was intimidating and something I was not ready for.

"I am sorry." I breathed.

He huffed in annoyance. "You already said that."

Did I?

"No! I mean, I spilled wine all over your shirt! Let me just-let me help you with that." I babbled.

I opened my purse hastily with one hand and started looking for anything that could help me with the situation I had landed myself in.

I was supposed to play the part of a dumb, clumsy girl, but suddenly I felt like I wasn't pretending anymore. Idiot! I was supposed to act surprised, bite my lip awkwardly, before sheepishly apologizing to him. I would place my hand on his arm and giggle cutely at myself in embarrassment, then offer to help him with the trouble I caused.

A man in a bad mood always needs a good distraction, right?

However, as I struggled to maintain a cool exterior, I realized how my plan had already gone down the drain. I wasn't the flirtatious woman I had planned to be, I was just the annoying person who had spoilt his shirt. And he, whatever his idea of distraction was, clearly didn't think it was me. Not at that moment. Not with the way I was behaving.

I couldn't mess this up.

I took out a cotton tissue from my purse hurriedly and press it against the stain on his shirt.

"You don't need to-"

"please let me just-" I cut him off, only to stop mid-sentence when I realized I was only making it worse. I only further smeared the liquid on his shirt, making the stain bigger.

"What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Are you fucking hard of hearing? I told you to leave it alone, didn't I?"

"I know! I was just trying to-"

"Trying to what? Waste more of my time?" he said sharply. "Just get out of my way before I lose it and have someone throw you out of this hotel myself."

His words slowly settled in and I stared at him in disbelief. I didn't think he would be this rude. My anger quickly diverted from myself to him. "Excuse me?" I scoffed.

"I think you heard me well enough." His voice was low, threatening. It only made my temper flare.

"You don't own this place."

"But I easily can. Now get out of my way." he demanded coldly, his voice at a dangerous level.

My eye twitched. "No." I snapped. He seemed momentarily surprised by the coldness in my voice, but recovered quickly. He muttered something about not having time for this and tried to walk past me again. My face heated up in rage. He spoke to me like I wasn't a person, but some dirt stuck on his expensive shoes.

I came into his way so he couldn't leave. I wasn't done just yet. His jaw clenched. "Are you crazy? Did you not understand what I just-"

"You know, I was only trying to be helpful. It wasn't entirely my fault. Yet I apologized. Twice." I snapped.

I glance down at the thin glass of wine which was still in my hand. Although most of it had been spilled, there was still a small amount of drink left in it.

"Does it look like I give a shit about what you were trying?" he mocked.

I scoffed. "Actually, no, it doesn't. Forgive me for trying to be polite. Assholes like you don't deserve that. I clearly mistook you for someone capable of having a civil conversation."

Before he could react, I lifted up my glass and impulsively threw the wine remaining in my glass on his face, making a splash sound. "Jerk." I hissed, watching in satisfaction as the liquid dripped down his face.

He stared at me in shock which soon turned into fury, pleasing me. "What the fuck!? Are you kidding me?" he growled.

I took a step closer to him. I tilted my face and smirked at him derisively . Leaning in, I whispered to him, "Just showing you how crazy I really am."

"Hope I didn't waste any more of your precious time." My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

He looked at me, stunned, his fists clenching. I smiled and walked past him, deliberately bumping my shoulder against his roughly.

Oh, this was far from over.

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Q- Views on Flora? Villian or heroine?