Ficlet: Devil of an Angel
Aug. 30th, 2008 01:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Devil of an Angel
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Arthur Sloane, Tonya Parker
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Two posts in one night? What madness is this? The prompt/title comes from the lovely and multitalented![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rougen.
She looked perfect, like every other time I'd seen her. Wraparound green dress, color of new money and envy. I was getting envious myself, the way it hugged those curves. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect little smirk at the edge of her mouth.
“Well. Fancy meeting you here, detective.” She came toward me, all slink and sin. And she handed me a glass of champagne, the minx.
“…Miss Parker. You’re looking well.”
Her lips curved more, crimson and slightly wet with alcohol. Her eyes, though, assured me she was sober. Certainly sober enough to cause problems. “I do try, handsome.”
We moved together toward the bar, as if we’d planned it. “Didn’t know you were a personal friend of Fabritzio’s.” Fabritzio Carlone was the ambitious young nephew of Verscetti the Wolf, one of the three most powerful crime bosses in Chicago. We were, at least nominally, at his birthday party.
“Oh, I’d not met him before tonight. Friend of a friend. And you, Mr. Sloane?” She took a sip of her own champagne, eyes angel innocent and mouth devilishly amused.
“Me?” I grinned. “Won my invite in a hand of poker.”
She smirked a bit more, standing close but not quite touching me. “Oh? Some lucky hand.”
“Baby, poker ain’t about luck. It’s about skill.”
“Skill at lying?”
I took a sip and set the champagne down on a nearby table. “We call it bluffing.”
She laughed softly, her voice hitting a spot at the bottom of my spine. “I’ll bet you do at that. Did you bring a date to this lovely shindig?”
“Funnily enough, doll, I was gonna call you, but you wouldn’t pick up the phone.”
“Very smooth, Mr. Sloane.” She set down her glass as well and extended a hand. “But do you dance as smoothly as you talk?”
“Only one way to find out.” I took her hand. Sure, I was casing the joint, but the best way to look at something is to pretend you ain’t especially interested. Besides, why turn down a perfectly good reason to be close to the prettiest dame in the room? Frankly, I hadn’t expected to see Tonya Parker again at all, much less while I was working. It wasn’t exactly on the up and up, but then, what was these days?
Silently, I thanked Celine and the senator for all those expensive swing lessons. One thing I’ll say for the mob, they do know how to throw a party. And it’s always nice to be a slightly better dancer than the girl you’re dancing with; you impress her, and free your mind for other things. Not that it did Miss Parker justice to give her less than my full attention.
After a few songs, she excused herself and worked the room. How she worked it. It seemed pretty clear that however she got here, she intended to work her way into the… hearts, let’s say, of several powerful gentlemen that night. She was a wonder; an angel face that was still tempting as hell. It was a hard one-two punch to resist, and lots of them weren’t even trying.
Truth be told, I wasn’t really trying either, though I knew I should have been. Not because I always give in to temptation. But because I was too damn curious about what kind of hell she was from, and why, of all the rich and powerful men at that party, she went home with me.
At least, I was curious the next morning, when I had leisure to think about it. Some nights, I love my work.
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Arthur Sloane, Tonya Parker
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Two posts in one night? What madness is this? The prompt/title comes from the lovely and multitalented
rougen.She looked perfect, like every other time I'd seen her. Wraparound green dress, color of new money and envy. I was getting envious myself, the way it hugged those curves. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect little smirk at the edge of her mouth.
“Well. Fancy meeting you here, detective.” She came toward me, all slink and sin. And she handed me a glass of champagne, the minx.
“…Miss Parker. You’re looking well.”
Her lips curved more, crimson and slightly wet with alcohol. Her eyes, though, assured me she was sober. Certainly sober enough to cause problems. “I do try, handsome.”
We moved together toward the bar, as if we’d planned it. “Didn’t know you were a personal friend of Fabritzio’s.” Fabritzio Carlone was the ambitious young nephew of Verscetti the Wolf, one of the three most powerful crime bosses in Chicago. We were, at least nominally, at his birthday party.
“Oh, I’d not met him before tonight. Friend of a friend. And you, Mr. Sloane?” She took a sip of her own champagne, eyes angel innocent and mouth devilishly amused.
“Me?” I grinned. “Won my invite in a hand of poker.”
She smirked a bit more, standing close but not quite touching me. “Oh? Some lucky hand.”
“Baby, poker ain’t about luck. It’s about skill.”
“Skill at lying?”
I took a sip and set the champagne down on a nearby table. “We call it bluffing.”
She laughed softly, her voice hitting a spot at the bottom of my spine. “I’ll bet you do at that. Did you bring a date to this lovely shindig?”
“Funnily enough, doll, I was gonna call you, but you wouldn’t pick up the phone.”
“Very smooth, Mr. Sloane.” She set down her glass as well and extended a hand. “But do you dance as smoothly as you talk?”
“Only one way to find out.” I took her hand. Sure, I was casing the joint, but the best way to look at something is to pretend you ain’t especially interested. Besides, why turn down a perfectly good reason to be close to the prettiest dame in the room? Frankly, I hadn’t expected to see Tonya Parker again at all, much less while I was working. It wasn’t exactly on the up and up, but then, what was these days?
Silently, I thanked Celine and the senator for all those expensive swing lessons. One thing I’ll say for the mob, they do know how to throw a party. And it’s always nice to be a slightly better dancer than the girl you’re dancing with; you impress her, and free your mind for other things. Not that it did Miss Parker justice to give her less than my full attention.
After a few songs, she excused herself and worked the room. How she worked it. It seemed pretty clear that however she got here, she intended to work her way into the… hearts, let’s say, of several powerful gentlemen that night. She was a wonder; an angel face that was still tempting as hell. It was a hard one-two punch to resist, and lots of them weren’t even trying.
Truth be told, I wasn’t really trying either, though I knew I should have been. Not because I always give in to temptation. But because I was too damn curious about what kind of hell she was from, and why, of all the rich and powerful men at that party, she went home with me.
At least, I was curious the next morning, when I had leisure to think about it. Some nights, I love my work.
