Bandit Bound: A Bad Boy Romance Novel (5 page)

"Go on, go do your business, I insist," she said in a sarcastic manner, which some of the customers understood and others didn't with confused frowns. She turned around and started to walk towards the front entrance where her manager and Vincent had left.

A hot breeze blew onto her. Given the frigid conditions of the bank, it was like coming up to a campfire in the snow. She felt warm. She felt free.

She saw Vincent leaning against the wall outside, looking at a picture of a motorcycle on his cellphone.

"Hey," Savannah said.

Vincent turned his head and looked at Savannah. She practically melted at the look and instinctively bit her lip. She felt warm underneath her pencil skirt.

"Yeah?" he asked. The tattoo on his neck was more visible now; it was some kind of elaborate symbol. It looked like it meant something.

"Why are you here again?" she asked cautiously.
Is it for me?
Savannah thought hopefully.

"I thought I'd come visit you again," he said with a wry grin. Savannah lit up at the comment: a big smile and her whole body perked up all at once. Vincent scoffed and smiled.

"Really?" she asked. She immediately scolded herself for sounding so eager. "Really?" she repeated, this time trying to sound sarcastic and unimpressed.

"Yeah, I've already had an account here for a while now," he said. Savannah's eyebrows furrowed and she stared at him in wait of an explanation.

"You're gonna get wrinkles doing that," Vincent said. Savannah rolled her eyes.

"Why did you come into my office and ask for an account if you already had one?" she asked.

"To see you." He gave a dark under-look that made Savannah shiver.

"You don't even know me," Savannah said in a voice that was half defiant, half shy.

"Exactly, I thought I'd get to know you," Vincent said.

"By pretending to open a new account? Wait, did you even have a hundred thousand dollars in that briefcase?" she asked.

"I'll leave that to your imagination," Vincent said, smiling. He laughed at his own comment; just a chuckle. Savannah sighed.

"Okay, Mr. Nightingale or whatever," Savannah began, "I don't know what you want or what you're doing here, and if you're done with your business I'm going to go get back to work now," she finished.

Vincent paused; he looked at his surroundings, the pristine commercial plaza, in deep contemplation. While he did, Savannah took her chance to ogle him. His tailor-made clothes hugged his muscular body perfectly, and she caught a glimpse of another tattoo on his arm in between the buttons of the cuff. She couldn't make out what it was but the curiosity was intense. Vincent snapped his head back to her and looked at her deeply.

"I saw you there through the window yesterday and it was like seeing a magnificent, beautiful bird trapped in a cage. I figured I'd rattle the cage and maybe you'd start flying." Savannah was dumbstruck by the comment; what does he mean? she thought. He stood up, dusted off his pant legs, and grabbed his suitcase.

"Well, I don't think so, but, thank you," Savannah said awkwardly.
He's right about one thing,
she thought.
I feel trapped here. It really is like a cage.

"Thank you," Vincent answered casually. He walked up to Savannah and picked up her hand by the wrist. Savannah's heart began to race. He kissed her on the top of her hand gently. The feel of his lips on her body instantly caused Savannah to be intensely aroused and the quick end of their contact left her aching for something more. "I'm done with my business. Until we meet again, Savannah," he said, turning a pivot on one foot and walking away.

A powerful urge to yell 'wait! don't go!' was coursing through every inch of Savannah's body but she wouldn't dare act on it. She let him walk instead. A cool powerful breeze blew past the plaza, knocking small pieces of litter around. The wind flew up Savannah's pencil skirt and that's when she realized that her panties were soaking wet. She blushed and practically ran back into the bank.

It was just one step into the building when it felt like all of the fun and excitement a minute ago was sucked right out of her soul. The drab color scheme, the bored faces of employees and customers, and the irritatingly cold dry air felt like some kind of hell. Savannah walked slowly, practically moping, back to her little mini-office, ready to set up accounts for whoever, with whatever.
Who cares?
she thought.

The entire rest of the day was spent normally, except for the comments from customers during the meetings:

"Hello?"

"Are you listening?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Are you okay?"

"Anybody up there?"

Despite trying her best to stay focused on her job, her thoughts constantly drifted towards Vincent. His carefree attitude, his way of understanding her with just a look. His challenging ways. The gorgeous face and perfect body too. The wetness she had built up only got worse and worse with every passing moment and daydream about him.

"Excuse me for a moment," she said to a customer a little bit after lunch time. She made her way to the bathroom, closed the door and then locked it. She unzipped her skirt so that it opened freely below her. Savannah sat down on the toilet, spread her legs, and pressed her index finger lightly against her clitoris. Letting out a little sigh from the contact, she swirled it around lightly, the pleasure shooting all throughout her body.

Picturing Vincent's finger, or tongue, there, she pleasured herself, eventually moving her finger underneath her panties, rubbing her glistening nub freely.
I'm in the middle of a meeting,
she thought.
I have to hurry.
The naughtiness of masturbating in the middle of her job, while some patient elderly couple waited on her, excited her even more. It was finally something new.

The touching became faster and more intense and after a few minutes of fantasizing about the mysterious stranger Mr. Starlingveil, Savannah was on the edge of climaxing.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The wooden door shook with each loud knock. Quickly afterwards, the door handle jiggled.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! More jiggling.

"Occupied!" Savannah said loudly.
Are you fucking serious?
She thought.
This can't be for real.
Just at the edge of her climax, someone was there, waiting to use the bathroom and letting her know about it with their fists.

The door jiggled again. Is she deaf? Savannah thought. Too frustrated to go on, she began to clean and tidy herself up.

"Just a minute!" she said in a dreadfully annoyed voice.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"
Just a minute
!" she screamed. The chatter of the customers and tellers in the bank came to a halt. Oh, God, Savannah thought. The jiggling and knocking stopped.

Savannah flushed the toilet, washed her hands, tried to regain her composure and finally opened the door. Lucy stood there with a look of pure disdain, almost hatred.

"You don't have to yell," she hissed at Savannah. Before she could even respond, Lucy pushed past her into the bathroom, almost knocking her over.
What a cunt,
Savannah thought. She wasn't a very nice person to be around, but this was abnormally hostile.
It must have been the little debacle that happened earlier today,
she thought.

Savannah made her way back to her office where the elderly couple was still waiting. They were talking to each other about some sort of vacation.

"I'm so sorry for the wait," she said.

"Oh, we know all about it," the elderly man said with a hearty laugh. She wasn't sure what he meant, but she smiled and nodded as if she did.

The rest of the day passed with various levels of tension and anxiety, mostly of the sexual sort. Savannah stared at the clock every chance she could, waiting for her time to go home.

The time to go home finally came, and Savannah finally came in the comfort of her bed, mouthing the word "Vincent" in her moments of climax.

5

The doorbell ringing repeatedly awoke Savannah from a deep, deep slumber. She quickly got up out of bed in her pajamas and rushed downstairs to go see who was at the door.

"Hello?" she said as she swung open the front door. A uniformed man stood in front of her holding a huge bouquet of roses. They were colored variously; most red, some coral, some pink, and others orange. It was a stunningly beautiful arrangement and smelled heavenly.

"I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong house," Savannah said.

"Savannah, uh, Solitaire?" the courier said, double checking the slip with her name and address on it. Savannah's eyes widened.

Who sent me this?
She wondered.
Was it Vincent?
Excitement ran through her veins once more.

"Yeah, that's me," she said breathlessly. "Thank you," she added as she took the bouquet from the courier's outstretched arms.

"Well,
I
didn't get 'em for you," he joked.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just surprised," Savannah answered laughing.

"Okay, so, have a great day miss," the courier said and started to head back to his van.

"Wait! Who sent these?" she asked.

"Told me not to say," he said without looking back at her. He got into his van, waved her goodbye and drove off.

It must have been Vincent
, she thought.
Or maybe it was someone else? Who else could it be? Casey? That makes sense, actually, because his sister works for some flower company I remember. Maybe this is his attempt at an apology?
The thoughts flowed through her as she stood in the archway of her wide-open front door on the warm Saturday morning.

She hoped it was Vincent and not Casey. She smelled the flowers and sighed a happy sigh. She went back inside and put them into a vase and watered them. Savannah sat on the kitchen chair staring at them with a huge beaming smile.

"God, it's been so long since anybody got me flowers," she said out loud. "My favorite, too," she added giddily as she lightly touched the soft petals of the roses.

As she was lightly feeling up the roses, the phone rang, startling her and causing her to rip off one of the petals.

"Oh, no!" she cried. "Shit! I'm sorry, flower!"

Savannah reached for the phone and picked it up.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Savannah, I'm going to need you to come in and fill for Thomas today," the familiar bitter voice demanded.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why? Because Thomas can't come into work today, and I need someone to fill in for him, and that's you," Lucy responded loudly, her dry voice crackling through the phone's speaker. Savannah stared at the flowers once more and took a deep breath of them.
Maybe he'll be there again today
, she thought.

"Hello?" Lucy asked. "You do like your job, don't you?" she added venomously.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry Lucy I just, um, the kettle was boiling," Savannah said happily, despite the antagonist on the other end of the line.

"I didn't hear any--"

"I'll be there as soon as possible Lucy, thanks for letting me know," Savannah interrupted and hung up.

She rushed upstairs and got dressed. It was the same skirt as yesterday since she was in such a hurry, but she wore a different buttoned blouse this time.

I hope he's there
, she thought.
Maybe I can find out if it was him that sent the flowers. And maybe I can finally find out what it is he
really
wants.

6

The bank was as cold, ugly and dreary as ever, but a certain sort of new life was breathed into it by Vincent's appearance the past two days. It made it feel less like the birdcage he described it as.

Yet, at the same time, there was a strange feeling in the air as well. Everyone seemed a little bit extra on edge. Some familiar faces at the bank looked like they knew something that she didn't and when they looked at her, it seemed like they thought she knew something that they didn't. It was an air of suspicion and there was much less chatter than usual.