The Thief and the Heiress

Hunter rolls his eyes as the minister blah-blah-blahs her way through all the religious crap. Really, he’d skip the whole thing, but the media was all there and the new younger, richer, blonder, more flexible than the first Mrs. Helmsley happy. Still it takes a lot of his willpower not to roll his eyes or tap his foot. He can think of at least thirty things he’d rather be doing right now and six of them involve the maid of honour.

He manages a smile when the minister calls for the rings. Sure it was some generations-old McMahon family heirloom, but the bitch should have thought of that before divorcing him. Now he’d start a new tradition with it.

When the best man opens the box, there is nothing inside.

Chaos erupts as the not-so-soon-to-be new Mrs. Helmsley starts wailing and a frantic search for the ring begins. Only they will never find it.

(*)

Two days later finds Josh knocking on the ex firstt Mrs. Helmsley’s door; it’s not his style to deliver his goods in person. He has an agent that deals with people. The agent meets the client, gets the deal and leaves the rest up to Josh. After that, Josh gives him his cut and revels in his new money. But Stephanie McMahon wanted to deal with as few people as possible and when you paid the kind of money she was paying, Josh didn’t mind doing the deal face-to-face. Fewer people meant fewer links to trace the robbery back to Stephanie. Josh respected that; privacy and getting caught were the sorts of things that didn’t go well in his line of work.

Still, he leans against the doorframe heavily. Once he can get on board a private plane, he can have a doctor see to the wound he’d gotten. Some lucky idiot paid-by-the-hour flunkie had gotten off a lucky shot, nicking Josh in the side. He’d been able to stop the bleeding on his own, but not before losing a good deal of blood. The wound might be infected, but he’s sure he can stay on his feet for a while. The last thing he wanted was for the cops to be looking for a guy with a gunshot wound in his side. It would trace him back to the robbery too easily.

After a few moments, he’s escorted to Mrs. McMahon’s patio and he flashes her a rakish grin as he puts the ring, now in a small, discrete jewellery box, on the table in front of her. “Will you marry me?” He drawls.

Satisfied that she’ll deposit the money into his account, Josh starts for the door. He doesn’t make it two feet before his vision dims, his legs buckle and he feels himself starting to fall. “Aw fuck,” he mutters, just before passing out.

It had been her ring and the bastard had known that all along. Hunter knew that Stephanie would want her family ring back, had known how much it meant to her, had known that it was her pride and joy. So he had decided to propose to some dime bag whore with it. Stephanie had decided to live on her own since the divorce, had chosen to stay locked up in her luxurious mansion like some sort of recluse. And then her mind started working in a sort of way an heiress' mind never worked: she started to think about hiring someone to steal it. And when she decided, finally, that it was the right thing to do she had done her research. Supposedly, there were men you could hire for just about anything these days and that involved theft.

That's why he was here. He was a handsome young man who dressed impecabbly and went by the name of Josh Matthews. Though he had joked about her marrying him, she could see that he had done the job. Doing the job meant getting the money, all two million of it. But when he had fallen, she decided that she couldn't let him leave, "Mr. Matthews, if you could be so kind to sit down on the couch and not move until I can get my consierge doctor to look at it."

"Ma'am," Josh grunts as he painstakingly rolls on to his back so he can look her in the eye. "That's not such a great idea. A guy like me with that particular ring should be far, far away from you right now. That's how this sort of thing works. You hire me, I steal, you pay me, we don't cross paths unless you need me again."

Josh Mathews is not the kind of person that rich people and tycoons put on their Christmas card list. He doesn't know people's kids, he doesn't get invited to parties. He's just an employee.

Josh knows he wasn't tracked. He's too damn good for that. But if her doctor tries to do something like call an ambulance, then things will get tricky. He has a fake ID on him, but drumming up the other paperwork on the sly will be a bitch. "I'll be fine, Mrs. McMahon." He tries to get up again, but his body does not take kindly to the request and he falls back with a muffled curse. Doctors were not exactly masters of discretion.

A smile crossed Stephanie's lips. Usually she would have kept her distance from a man like this, though he didn't look like a typical criminal. No, her insides were telling her that she should send him far, far away from her house. But the poor man was injured, she couldn't just send him on his way. What if he didn't make it to the hospital? She would have that on her own concious.

"Please, Mr. Matthews, I insist." Stephanie said again, "My consierge is a quiet man, he won't let anyone know you are here."

Josh starts to say something, but he can't muster up the energy to be his usual smartass self. The next bit of time passes in a haze. It could be minutes, it could be hours, he really has no idea. He has vague visions of a man hovering over him, of being carried somewhere. It brings back way too many bad memories.

Josh is unaware of his struggles and thrashing, the muffled, feverish words that spill past his lips, of giving the doctor a black eye.

When he wakes up completely, he finds himself in a comfortable bed. He sits up as best he can, propping himself up with pillows. Glancing down at his side, he's a little surprised to see that he's shirtless. The wound in his side has been neatly bandaged and dressed, leaving only a few angry looking bruises peeking out from under the stark white bandages. He winces a little. "Son of a bitch," he mutters.

Okay, he wasn't in prison. That was a good start. Now where in the hell was he again?

Stephanie watched in wonder as her consierge doctor, a young man by the name of Frank Tate, worked on Josh. She couldn't deny that she was curious about the young man. Josh looked rich, and not just with the way he dressed. No, he had the walk and the air of a man who had been born around money all his life. Something that she hadn't seen since the last time she had seen her family. But her relationship with them had gone to the wrong foot when she married Hunter. "And now look at me" she thought as she ran a hand through her hair, plopping down in a chair outside of one of the many guest rooms that Dr. Tate had decided to take Josh into.

After several hours and lots of nervousness, Dr. Tate stepped out of the room, looking at Stephanie as he did so. "You can see him now."

Stephanie entered the room, smirking as she did so, "Josh, I'm glad to see your feeling slightly better. Aren't you glad you took my advice and let me call my consierge?" The last bit was laced with sarcasm, a tool Stephanie had found to be a wonder over the years.

"To be fair, Ms. McMahon, I didn't exactly have a hell of a lot of choice." It's not hard to be see she's being sarcastic, but he tries to stay cool and formal, as professional as possible. "Now if you'll excuse me..." He starts to get up again, but damn it all, his vision starts to blacken around the edges again and he has to lay back. He breathes deeply, trying to make the nauseating swimming feeling go away. It doesn't seem like he'll be climbing up any drainage pipes or doing any rappelling any time soon.

When his eyes are able to focus again, Josh looks at her face, trying to read what's going through her mind. He's fairly certain he's just lost a good client. This was his first job for her, a damn lucrative one and here he went getting shot at like some rookie. He'd been doing this for almost half his life. Accidents like this should be avoidable. "I'd recommend keeping that ring out of sight for a good long while. The statute of limitations on theft over five thousand is--" A vicious cough wracks his upper body, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say.

Stephanie smiled, noting that Josh was just as sarcastic as she was. It was something that she liked in a man. But this wasn't a time to be looking for a new potential boyfriend. This was a time for business, a time to be serious. This man had just stole her family ring and was laying in her house with an injury. This was as serious as serious could be. "I'm not stupid," she replied to Josh, almost coldly, "I know to keep the ring hidden. I'm sure you're expecting you're pay. How much did you say that you wanted for this job?"

"Due respect ma'am," Josh props himself up on one forearm, a position which seems to ease the ache in his side. "A woman like you does not forget her business endeavors."

Josh keeps the language formal and familiar to her; it's business, so he uses business terms. He has a fleeting moment of fear that he's being entrapped, that she's wearing a wire or the room is bugged, but he quashes it as nothing more than irrational. It's been a long time since he's been in a vulnerable position in front of a client, let alone unable to stand up.

"A lesser man might charge you hazard pay for this," Josh gestures to the wound in his side. "I won't. I charged you two million and it'll stay that way. Speaking of ways, I'll just be on mine-" He starts to get up, only to fall back again. "Son of a bitch!" He hisses under his breath, a rare display of temper from him.

"I doubt you'll be on your way," Stephanie said as she saw Josh fall back again. "However, out of my own kindness I'll add another thousand dollars on to your pay for this injury. And no, it's not so that you'll keep quiet. I do believe that a man of your standard knows when your client shouldn't be double crossed."

Part of the reason Stephanie had decided to stay locked up in her home was because she didn't trust anyone. People were known to stab you in the back as soon as the opportunity arrised. "I don't mind you staying here until you can get back on your feet. Just stay out of my way. The last thing I need is a man such as yourself getting into my business."

At this moment, Josh knows that he physically cannot get out the door tonight. Even the thought of trying to stand up again leaves him feeling vaguely nauseous. He settles back against the pillows, making himself as comfortable as he's able to. The pain in his side is slowly fading, but even the slightest movement causes him to hiss in discomfort. "Ma'am," he says again, not bothering to open his eyes. "I have no intention of becoming involved in your business. Discretion helps me get my job done and it keeps me getting jobs."

Under normal circumstances, Josh is tight lipped, composed and professional. He doesn't speak unless spoken to, able to blend into a crowd of partying socialites, household staff or, in the case of getting this job, a member of the clergy at the cathedral where Mr. Helmsley had kept the ring.

Though at this moment, he supposes that it's a combination of bloodloss, exhaustion and whatever painkiller the doctor had used to numb his nerves that compels him to speak. "You should throw a party. A man like Mr. Helmsley will look for any reason to get into this house, or have someone close to him enter and snoop around for the ring. He has no proof that you were involved, but he'll suspect it. If you have a lot of people here, it'll give him the perfect opportunity to look, but he won't find anything and he'll be left with more questions than answers. That is just my professional opinion; I doubt you'll take it."

Exhausted by such a short speech, Josh goes to pull the blankets up around him, only to get jabbed with the sharp pain yet again. He curses softly, then simply stretches out as carefully as he can.

"And from what I hear, you might be the greatest in the world at being a jewel thief," Stephanie complimented. She sat in the chair near his bedside, leaning back. "A party you say?"

Stephanie had never been a party of parties, not even when she had been married to Hunter. But she knew that Josh was only trying to do what was best for her. So she nodded, "I'll throw a party on one condition and one condition only."

"Best in the world?" Josh murmurs, a hint of a smile on his face. "I'm good, but there are probably some better. It'd be kind of hard for people like us to get a rankings system going." He can't help but smirk at the idea though.

He's functioning slowly today. It feels like he's moving under water while everything else around him is normal. "Condition? His light-colored brows furrow into a confused frown for a moment before understanding sets in. "Right. I'll be out of here by then."

Josh is not someone that people like to keep around. He's used to it. He's comfortable with that.

"I wouldn't have hired you for the job if I didn't think that you were the best at what you do. Josh, I heard a lot about you. I heard about how you're great at what you do. So I hired you," Stephanie shrugged. Upon hearing that he probably wouldn't be along for much longer after he healed, Stephanie nodded. "It would probably be best for you. However, I want you to know that you're invited when I do throw the party, at your suggestion. Perhaps you can even be the guest of honor."

Stephanie turned on her heels, ready to leave the room. She wanted the young man to get his peace.

Josh can't help but chuckle at that idea. He sincerely hopes he doesn't sound rude or offend her at all, but the idea is just so ludicrous. "Ms. McMahon," he says again, not bothering to open up his eyes this this time. He's not sure he could anyway. "The idea behind this party isn't to draw attention to the fact that you're associating with a known jewel thief. You're trying to divert suspicion off yourself, not shine a great big spotlight on this manor. Besides, I'm sure there are a few people on your guest list that would NOT be happy to see me."

There are certain employees that rich people don't like to look at, think about, or talk to: your doctors, financial analysts, lawyers, house staff, and your concierge thieves. These people remind the rich that they have flaws, vices, they have desires that make them as human as the 9-5ers barely eeking out an existence.

Josh is surprised that she's going through with the party. He's done his homework on how reclusive she'd become.

But in the battle of mind vs. body, the latter soon gives out and he finds himself falling asleep.

For the next few days, Stephanie makes sure to take good care of her unexpected house guest. She would fix him supper, make sure that he had everything he needed. After all this man had helped her to steal back one of the most priceless artifacts that had belonged to the McMahon family for generations. The least she can do is make sure he has a nice bed to sleep in and a warm meal when he's hungry.

The thought of the party weighs heavy on her mind. She had never really been a people person but when she divorced Hunter for his cheating ways she figured out how cruel people could be. She thought she didn't need them anymore, didn't need to let anyone in so that they could potentially hurt her like he had done. The only way she is going to get to keep something that matters to her is by surrounding herself with people that don't. Fitting really.

As he recovers, Josh tries not to make himself too comfortable. For the first couple of days, it was easy. He was so weak and out of it that he barely notices the time passing by, let alone where he is or the company he's currently keeping.

If only he'd done this situation through his agent/contact/fence; he could have foisted the ring off on to her and she'd have passed it on to Stephanie and the heiress would never have known his face. Now she knows his face, probably his blood type and the fact that he prefers his sandwiches cut in four with the crusts on, please.

He knows he's feeling better when she comes into the room again, because he's managed to get dressed and groomed for the day without any more than a few forgettable pangs in his side. And he knows he's getting too comfortable because he asks a rather unprofessional question. "Have you thought about why you're throwing this party? The occasion, I mean?"

Josh knew damn well that rich people didn't need much of a reason to gossip, drink and fuck, but still, a woman of Stephanie's stature wouldn't throw a party for the sake of it.

Stephanie smiled as she entered the room, noting that Josh had indeed gotten better. He was dressing by himself and standing, something that was a sign on the road of recovery. She smiled, "No, I haven't thought about why I'm throwing the pary but I need to think of a reason. I'm not much of a partier myself."

There's a silent awkwardness to the room before she looked at him, "Thank you for this. I know you didn't have to and my paranoia sure as hell didn't make things easy for you but I want you to know I appreciate everything you've done for me."

Josh snorts softly. "Ma'am, I am most definitely the most paranoid of the two of us. Believe me. And you're welcome."

While he is feeling better, he's definitely not at a hundred percent. He sits back down on the bed with a small cough. He closes his eyes and cocks his head to the side, as if he's listening to music that no one else can hear. He's trying to remember a good occasion for a party. "Don't you have a birthday coming up?" Josh does his homework, he knows his clients well, but since he's been injured, his sense of time has been a little distorted.

"In a few weeks, yes," Stephanie nods, sitting down in a chair a few feet away from Josh. She keeps her distance from the younger man, crossing her legs feminenly. "So I suppose that's something I can hold a party over. Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink or eat?"

"That'll give you plenty of time to get it organized." And the good thing for her is that he'll be far, far out of her hair by that time. He considers her request for a moment, then shrugs. "Coffee would be wonderful if you have any made."

"I don't have any made but it wouldn't be to long to make," Stephanie smiles, standing up and walking out of the room. She goes to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee before pouring some on a cup, placing it on a tray with items such as sugar and a small bottle of creamer, and walking back to the room. "I didn't know what you liked in your coffee..."

"Just black with a little sugar, thank you very much." Josh says with a grateful smile, taking the tray from her and settling back on the bed. He still can't push himself too hard yet, but he hopes to be out of her house well before the party. He cocks his head, simply watching her. He's curious, but he knows better than to ask questions.

Stephanie sits back down in her chair, smiling a bit, "Thats how I enjoy my coffee as well." she looks at her lap, twiddling her thumbs a little before speaking her mind, "How does a young man who seemingly has the world at his finger tips become a thief?"

He opens his eyes, then arches an eyebrow. "The world at my fingertips?" He echoes. "Due respect ma'am, but you don't know the first thing about me. For all you know I was raised as riff raff, as a street rat and simply moved up to a higher quality of clientele."

It's not that she's wrong, but he'd rather not have her suss out any clues to his past.