Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. Not even pretending they're mine. Well, maybe I am pretending a little bit--after all, I am writing this story.
AN: OK, folks, I'm trying to be a good little author. Really, I am. I'm working on the next chapter of Shall We Dance as we…err…I write and you read. But I thought of this little no powers AU a couple of weeks back and it just won't leave me alone. So I'm putting it out to you, dear readers. Do you want me to try to go back and forth between this and SWD, or do you want me drop this one like hotcakes and pick it up after it's cooled? Or is it such a terrible, horrible, clichéd idea that you wouldn't read more if I paid you? Here's a teaser to show you what I'm thinking.
The warm Mediterranean night wrapped around him like a moist kiss. Remy LeBeau leaned on the rail of the ship, the ashes of his cigarette flaring in his carelessly crossed hands as he inhaled the night. High society was stifling. It didn't matter that he had been among them since childhood--heck, maybe that's why it bothered him so much. This social strata was such a close knit little group, being with any of the women there could borderline on incest. Of course, that didn't stop him.
What would dey t'ink, he thought of the dancing sparkling lights inside the yacht, if dey knew how de LeBeaus' really got deir fortune?
It wasn't uncommon for the rich to know that they had predators walking among them. After all, that was how they had made their money, one time or another. But the LeBeaus' were a special breed of predator: they fed from among their own.
Which was why he was on this excruciatingly boring excuse for a school reunion trip. Someone--it was probably Jeannie--had thought that it would be a good idea for all of the ones in their "set" to get together and celebrate their school's fiftieth anniversary. The owner of the world's largest blue diamond, Pietro Maximoff was a classmate and long time irritant of Remy's. Word had filtered through his connections that the idiot was stupid enough to take the diamond out of the truly impressive security system the Maximoffs' had set up for it for the purpose of showing it off at some point during this little get together.
Remy knew that despite the Maximoffs' precautions, he could have stolen that diamond any time he felt like it. He had simply never had the proper motivation. But for Pietro to take it out and flaunt it like this? Please, it was too easy. The prospect of the valuable target and humiliating Pietro was just the right kind of temptation for Remy.
So, here he was on a private yacht between Italy and Greece. Waiting for the perfect opportunity. Stuck with the people who he'd long since hoped to forget.
Remy ran a finger along the collar of his shirt, deciding to unbutton two of the buttons on his Armani suit. Merde, dese people are suffocating.
He sighed and turned away from the waves to face the open doors that led into the ship's ballroom. If he knew his mark--and he always did--Pietro would be precisely seventeen minutes late. Pietro had always stated that things took too long to get started anyway, why should he waste time waiting for them?
True to Remy's calculations, Pietro entered the ballroom scornfully, in all of his undeserved arrogance. Remy surveyed his target--he seemed even more smugly self-satisfied tonight. He looked suspiciously like the cat who had swallowed the cream.
Then Remy saw who Pietro was holding the door open for, and realized that for once Maximoff's arrogance was warranted.
She was heart-wrenchingly, jaw-droopingly, breath-stopping gorgeous. Not beautiful. Gorgeous.
Pietro courteously held out his arm to the girl. She gracefully took it.
What de heck is she doin' wit' him?
He forced himself to survey her calmly. Her deep green ankle-length, curve hugging--Merci, Dieu--formal gown exuded class. Not the kind these high society bugs bought. But the kind of class that made a person equally comfortable in exclusive clubs and local pubs. In fact, knowledge of woman's fashion being somewhat of an occupational bonus, he was surprised that he didn't recognize the design of the dress. He wouldn't be surprised if she had fished it out of Goodwill and added a few discreet adjustments to make it solely hers. Her face was framed with stark white curls, the rest of her chestnut hair pulled up in an elegant French twist. Understated emerald studs glimmered in her ears.
She was looking up at her escort with an expression of amused tolerance etched on her profile. Then she turned her head to gaze across the room and out the open doors to the deck.
Straight at him.
Emerald eyes enhanced by the color of her dress locked into his own for an endless moment. Then Pietro was leading her away, towards his table.
Maybe the blue diamond wasn't the only thing Pietro Maximoff had worth stealing.
So, it's in your hands. If you really like it, I'll do it. Just warning you though, if you want me to try the simultanious thing, my main focus is still gonna be on Shall We Dance, because we're starting to get to the good stuff. This will likely be a blow-off steam fic, if anything.