Chapter 1

I'd never intended this life….

I'd never intended to be a thief….

I'd never intended to be caught, either…. Especially not by the billionaire owner of a BDSM club.

~Elysia~

I sat in the living room, watching Mac popcorning in his cage. I'd had the small rodent since he was days old. I'd moved a pan off the stove to run water in it in preparation of making some Malt-a-Meal for supper, and discovered Mac sitting on the cold burner beneath the grate. 

Unscared, his huge eyes had been inquisitive as he'd stared at me. His tiny nose had twitched adorably and I'd known instantly, he was mine. Well, as much mine as a wild creature could be for anyone, I suppose. 

As I thought about how Mac had come into my life, the small television in the corner of my living room was playing Chicago Fire. The series had just changed over to a new episode. I'd become interested in the series fairly quickly when I'd begun watching it. 

The show was interesting; its characters were always well played. I really couldn't pick favorites. But I guess, if pressed, I'd have to say in the early season it had been Severide and Shay. But for some odd reason, in the later seasons, I had switched my loyalties over to Mouch and Hermann. 

Mouch, I couldn't really say why I liked him, I just did. Hermann, well, he reminded me a great deal of my grandpa. Pa Pa had passed away when I was seventeen. But he had such a strong parental role in my life that I now felt ashamed of what I had become. Pa Pa had been a man of the law, and me… well, I became a thief! 

I'm not proud of the fact, but, again, it is what it is. Life had thrown shit at me; I had made what I could of it.  Pa Pa had been sick for a very long time toward the end of his life, and the bills had piled up. I'd tried the right thing; working as a waitress at local diners, slinging pizza at pizzerias. I'd even tried mucking horse stalls at a local horse ranch. But in the end, I became a thief. 

I had wanted to be a criminalist, but instead, I had become a criminal.

Now, as the credits rolled at the end of the Chicago Fire episode, I stood and headed to my room. I pulled on my full-length body leotard, plated my hair into a braid, then pulled on a clean, fresh pair of gloves.

THREE DAYS LATER

The sound of the lock being turned was like a death knell in my ears; it meant it was time to see the judge. 

“It's time, Crinshaw," the guard stated, his voice devoid of emotion. A shiver ran down my spine as he stepped into the cell, placing a set of handcuffs around my wrists. The metal felt cold, unforgiving against my skin, a reminder of my captivity.

As we made our way through the labyrinthine corridors of the prison, the guard led me like a dog on a leash. I could sense his disdain. But I refused to give in to his expectations.

Minutes later, we approached what I assumed was the courtroom. 

I could hear the sound of voices, the rustling of papers, the creaking of a chair. But instead of entering the courtroom, we continued past it. The guard stopped before a door. Then raising a hand, he lightly wrapped it with his knuckles. Afterward, pushing it open, he ushered me inside. 

The cold, harsh light of the fluorescent lamps illuminated the room like a beacon of judgment. In the center of it all, sat a man behind a large wooden desk, his eyes fixed on me, his gaze piercing. "So, you broke into the Landry estate?" he questioned, his voice carrying a thick Cajun accent. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

I tipped my head, my eyes narrowing as I took in his appearance, the expensive suit he wore. “You're not a judge," I stated.

Amusement slid across his features, “No, but you might say I have an invested interest in your case. Now, are you guilty or not?"

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. This was it, the moment of truth. In the back of my mind, I could hear Pa Pa, urging me to be the person he knew I was; not who I had been forced to become. As I looked into the man's eyes, I knew what I had to do.

"Guilty, sir," I stated. “Guilty of all I have been accused of."

~~

I continued to gaze at the man behind the desk as  he raised an eyebrow. "You do realize you'll go to prison for five to seven years with your admission, right?"he quizzed.

“Five to seven?" My voice was barely more than a whisper.

The man's expression remained unyielding, his eyes narrowed as he studied me with a critical gaze. I felt a cold dread creeping up my spine as I realized the gravity of my situation. I had made a terrible mistake. I should have never admitted my guilt, but I couldn't take it back; it was too late now.

"I had no idea," I admitted, my voice a little stronger, but still weak.

Shifting in his chair, the man leaned forward, propping his forearms onto the top of the desk. "There is a way to keep you from doing any time at all."

I rolled my eyes. Seriously? Yeah, the man was drop-dead gorgeous, but…damn! He was really going there?

The man must have read my mind, because he smirked with amusement, "Do I look like someone who would break the law?" Afterward, following his word with, "I'm willing to get your charges dropped, if you're willing to come work for me."

"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What kind of work?"

Cocking his head, the man smiled again, but this time remained mute, just lifting an eyebrow. His expression was quizzical as he gazed at me.

"Okay, then. Suppose I come to work for you, what exactly would I be doing?" I questioned.

Folding his hands together, his smile widened, revealing a set of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. "I can't reveal that to you right now. Not until you agree."