Title: Heartbreaker
Setting: modern day AU, based on the French movie L'Arnacoeur (Heartbreaker).
A/N: I mentioned this idea to labonsoirfemme a month ago and asked her to tell me to stop starting new fics all the time, to which she replied "YAS PERFECT WRITE IT." I aim to please. If you're interested in seeing the movie, I do believe it's been dubbed in English, or you might find a version with subtitles. By all means, hope you enjoy reading this!
"Bell. We've got a problem."
Bellamy frowned at his sister's alarmed tone. Looking up, he found Octavia standing at the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest and with that look in her eyes that meant nothing good. "What are you talking about?" he asked, confused.
Octavia sighed before taking a seat at his desk. "We spent a lot more than we'd originally planned on this one. A lot more," she insisted. "And I've done the math, we've been doing that a lot lately. Last month it was that girl you almost married in Vegas -"
"I didn't almost marry her, O," Bellamy interrupted her. "She was hot, that's true, and if I had met her under different circumstances, I'm not saying I wouldn't have...that's not the point. We'll just work under a stricter budget, we've done it before."
Octavia glared at him. "You say that all the time, and then you go and privatize the Plaza. We can't keep doing that. We can't afford it. We're spending more than we earn."
Bellamy closed his eyes and pinched the ridge of his nose. "I've got it under control, O, I swear. I'll find us more contracts."
"Where?" Octavia snapped. "You're gonna go around and ask people if they know some woman who's unhappy but doesn't know it so you can charm her? That's your plan? Because if it is, it's a stupid plan and I'm not gonna stick around to -"
Tears started spilling on her cheeks, and Bellamy was up on his feet and kneeling at her side in a heartbeat. "Hey, hey, O, what's going on?" he asked, worry edging in his voice. "Don't get upset, I swear I'll fix it, okay? I swear. Don't -"
"You'd better," Octavia sniffed, "because I'm not planning on bringing my baby to visit you when you live under a bridge."
Bellamy blinked, once, twice, before he felt his mouth stretching into a grin. "You're pregnant?" he said, beaming. "I'm gonna be an uncle?"
Octavia laughed, a little watery thing as she rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna be a mother, so yes, by extension you're gonna be an uncle, you self-centered jerk."
She gave him a soft smile, and he reached out to wipe her tears with his thumb. "No more stupid, expensive, extravagant expense. I promise. And I'm going to the bank tomorrow to open an account for my future niece or my future nephew."
Octavia cocked an eyebrow at him and gave his shoulder a punch. "Yeah, right. Before you do that, you should probably go practice on that winning smile because it's the only weapon you'll use for a while. Got it?"
Bellamy nodded. He was too happy for his baby sister to argue with her.
Over the years, Bellamy had realized that there were three different types of women when it came to relationships: the first category was happy women; the second, women who were unhappy but owned up to it or didn't care; and the third was women who were not knowingly unhappy.
The latter were Bellamy's stock-in-trade.
Everybody knew one of these women; whether they be sister, daughter, or friend, women who were unhappy were everywhere, and Bellamy offered his services to help them open their eyes. Concerned relatives or friends came to them - he and Octavia and her husband Lincoln - and while Octavia and Lincoln investigated about the couple to find out what was wrong (they never broke couples where the woman was happy), Bellamy charmed his way in the woman's life.
They had one goal: breaking up the couples, not the women's hearts. Bellamy seduced them, showed them that they deserved better than what they had, until they left their relationships to seek someone who could make them truly happy. Bellamy had this one line he used on all the girls, about how his heart had been broken before and that he could never fall in love again but that she deserved the world, and it worked every single time.
Harper had hugged him fiercely, whispering her thanks in his ear; Roma had kissed him full on the mouth; Lexa had even invited him to her wedding with Costia. Helping Lexa realize she'd been in love with her best friend and that it was the reason why she was so unhappy with her boyfriend was one of Bellamy's favorite thing about his job. Clients were often curious or worried about his methods, but Bellamy only used seduction to help; and sure, he kissed a lot of girls, but he never went further than that. He was a professional.
Showing these women they were unhappy was no easy task, though. That was something else Bellamy had understood with time; nobody was ready to admit they weren't happy, because settling into a routine with someone was so much easier and less scary than to face the unknown. Many a woman he helped was caught up in a relationship where she didn't know how to say no to a marriage proposal coming from a man she'd known and been with for so long, despite no longer feeling a spark. He'd pretended to be a wedding planner, once, and he'd spent three months listening to Maya complaining about how uninterested her fiancé was in their wedding, until progressively she went from being annoyed to angry, and ultimately called off the wedding. She was now dating this sweet boy who looked at her like she was the sun, and Bellamy was happy for her.
He was happy for all of them, really; but helping these women had a cost. It was like being an undercover agent, but without the prestige or the unlimited funding, and Bellamy was aware that lately he'd gone a little overboard. With Octavia and Lincoln having a baby on the way, he reckoned it was about time to go back to the basics.
He'd never needed to show off to win a girl over, so there was no reason why he'd need to for work.
Their salvation came along when Abigail Griffin knocked on their door.
She seemed so out of place in their office, with a row of white pearls around her neck and dressed in an elegant dress that probably cost more than their rent. Bellamy knew who she was, of course; Abigail Griffin, Chief of Surgery at Ark Medical, and running her second mandate as Councilwoman. Everybody in Ark knew her.
He remembered meeting her years ago under other circumstances, though, when his mother died in a car accident and she was the surgeon who tried, but failed, to save her. But the woman showed no sign of recognizing him, so Bellamy just sat there and let Octavia handle her like she did with all the clients.
"Have a seat, Mrs. Griffin, please," Octavia invited her in, sitting at Bellamy's desk. "How can we help you?"
Lincoln went to the kitchen to make some tea, and Bellamy smiled at the woman with no visible success as she eyed him for a moment before turning her attention back to Octavia. "I heard about what you did for Maya Vie," she started slowly, her fingers twined together on her lap. "I've met her father through work quite a lot over the years, we've become friends. And he told me about how happy he was to see his daughter with a boy who can truly make her smile. And that's what I want for my daughter."
Octavia nodded her head. "Of course. But you have to understand that we don't just break people up for no reason. We help women see their full potential and find out what they truly want, but we don't do that with just anyone," she explained. "What can you tell us about your daughter's relationship?"
"Clarke thinks she's happy, but she's not," Abigail replied, the smallest frown creasing her brow. "I can see it."
"Yeah, well, we're gonna need a little more info than that," Bellamy couldn't stop himself from saying. Octavia elbowed him hard under the table, but he went on. "Look, Mrs. Griffin, we've seen a lot of disapproving parents, but that's not a good reason enough to break people up. We need to know more."
Abigail glared at him. "And what if I don't want to share more?"
Bellamy held her gaze, unwavering and just as stern. "Then we can't possibly help you. I'm sorry."
Octavia's eyes moved from her brother's stubborn features to their potentially lost client. "What my partner is trying to say is that we do need to know a little more so we can elaborate the best strategy to help your daughter," she said smoothly. "Knowing about her, what she's like and what she likes, would really help us. It'd help us see why you think her significant other is unfit for her."
Bellamy refused to look away; Abigail pressed her lips in a thin line before she turned to Octavia again. "She's bored. Her fiancé is a nice boy, but he's not what she needs. And whenever I try to bring the subject up, we end up fighting."
"No one likes to hear their mother tell them they're making a mistake," Bellamy shrugged. Octavia pinched his side, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to let a sound out. "You said they were engaged," he continued carefully, "When is the wedding?"
"On the twenty-fifth."
"That's in ten days," Bellamy scoffed. "I'm sorry, but that's way too short. We can't help you."
"Bell -" Octavia started. Bellamy opened his mouth to argue, and she pinched him again. "Will you excuse us?" she said to Abigail, before she dragged her brother in the corridor.
Lincoln was standing there, a tray with three cups of tea in hands. "It sounded intense in there, I didn't want to..." he shrugged.
"Bellamy was being an idiot," Octavia snarled, punching him in the shoulder again.
"I said no," Bellamy repeated. "Look, O, I've never worked under such a tight schedule. Not for a wedding. I can't do it."
"You haven't even tried!"
"And what happens if I try, and fail, huh?" Bellamy asked her. "We'll need to refund that woman, and we'll go back to square one. And we will have wasted ten days on this one when we could have worked on another case."
The siblings were glaring at each other, Octavia's cheeks getting red with her annoyance. Lincoln spotted the familiar telltale, and squeezed her shoulder. "Bellamy's right, Octavia. We can't really afford to spend time and money on a hopeless case."
"Money's not an issue when it comes to my daughter's happiness, you know," they heard a voice say behind them, and the three of them turned to see Abigail standing at the doorframe. "I'll pay for all your expense. Just tell me how much you need to do this and I'll give it to you. Now, can we please sit down and talk like civilized people instead of hiding in the corridor?"
Octavia lifted her chin up defiantly, waiting for Bellamy to decide if he was in or out.
"This guy is perfect, I'd marry him in a heartbeat," Octavia huffed, blowing at a lost tendril falling before her eyes. Lincoln groaned, and she gave him a sweet smile. "If I didn't have you, babe," she said as she pecked his lips. "You know I love you."
"Can we please focus on this guy's flaws?" Bellamy chided them, embellishing a gag at their antics. Sometimes it was really hard to work with the two of them; they were sickeningly cute, even more so now that Octavia was pregnant. Really, Bellamy should have realized it before she even told him.
"He doesn't have any," Octavia shrugged. "This is Wells Jaha we're talking about. He's a humanitarian, giving out money for tons of charities. He visited the orphanage last week and spent the entire day with the kids. He's a sweetheart."
"Not helping, O."
"This website I'm on is saying that despite his young age, people would be ready to vote for him against his own father if he ran for City Hall," Lincoln added.
Bellamy felt like throwing himself in front of a bus. "Do you even know what the word flaw means?" he sighed. "Okay, fine, Golden Boy is perfect. Tell me about the bride-to-be."
Lincoln cleared his throat before he started to read his file. "Clarke Griffin, twenty-five, owner of a very classy art gallery uptown. She paints and draws, and from what I'm seeing here, she's really good. She's not a socialite like her fiancé is, but she does attend luncheons and galas with her mother and step-father who are both part of the City Council." He paused, skimming through the press articles about the Griffin heiress. "Pre-med in Mount Weather, she got accepted into literally every med school in the country. She used to date Jaha in high school, and they reunited a couple years ago. Been engaged for six months, perfect bliss and all."
"He writes her love letters," Octavia added. "Love letters. He's an even bigger dork than you are, Bell," she teased her brother.
Bellamy ignored her. "I don't like the sound of this. These people are happy, for God's sake. This is not what we do."
Octavia bit her bottom lip, unsure of what to say. She shared her brother's beliefs - the ones upon which they'd funded their business - but what harm could they do, really? If the lovebirds were so in love, Bellamy would just waste his energy for nothing, and Abigail Griffin would still pay them. The odds were in their favor for once.
Bellamy was quiet for a moment, ruffling his hand in his hair as he recited the facts in his head. "How does a princess like Clarke Griffin, Ark's sweetheart, suddenly drop med school to become an artist?" he finally asked.
"Princess?" Octavia chuckled. "I don't know. I didn't find anything about that."
"Actually, there's a whole year of her life missing," Lincoln said. Bellamy's brow furrowed in a frown, and his brother-in-law added, "After she graduated, and before she started dating Jaha again. I don't know what she did during that year. One moment she was soon-to-be Dr. Griffin and the next she opened her gallery."
Bellamy clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice work. That's what we need to find out. You keep looking, and I'll go see the princess."
Octavia raised an eyebrow at him. "And what's your plan?" she asked, a little skeptic.
Bellamy just pressed a kiss to the crown of her hair before taking off.
His first thought upon seeing Clarke Griffin was that she wasn't what he expected.
She looked perfectly normal, for someone who'd grown up in a house with maids and a Chinese nanny, attended the best schools, and would soon call the Mayor her father-in-law. She didn't look anything like her mother, neither in her demeanor nor her appearance; she seemed nice and approachable in a way rich people never were.
She was also utterly gorgeous.
A little bell rang as he opened the door to the gallery, and she looked up at him from a portfolio she seemed to be studying. "Oh, hi," she said friendly.
"Hi, uh, Miss Griffin? This might sound weird to you, but -"
"You might not want to start a conversation with this might sound weird, you know," she laughed. She closed the portfolio, and circled around the front counter to face him. "How about you start again?" she suggested with a smile.
Bellamy resisted the urge to roll his eyes - he was used to Octavia sassing him all the time. "Sorry, miss. My name's Bellamy Blake, and your mother hired me to protect you."
He felt a little insulted when he saw her eyes widen. "You're a bodyguard?" Clarke asked as her eyes roamed over him, head to toe. "You don't look like a bodyguard."
"Yeah, I've heard that before," he shrugged, casual, and with a confidence that made her lips twitch up a little. "But it's part of a trick to lull people into a false sense of safety."
Clarke chuckled. "You won't mind if I call my mother to check your story, right?" she asked, a little cheeky as she leaned her arm against the counter. "You wouldn't be the first to try."
Bellamy couldn't help it; he laughed. "You've got a lot of guys coming up to you pretending your mother hired them to be your bodyguard?" he teased.
"All the time," Clarke gave him a shrug, and lifted her phone to her ear. She kept grinning at him as he could hear the call pending, until it finally picked up. "Hey, mom. Yeah, I'm good. Listen, there's a guy named Bellamy Blake who just came up to me and told me he was here to protect me at your demand, which I can't possibly believe because you would never do such a thing without asking me first, right?"
Bellamy just stood there, hoping that Abigail Griffin wouldn't ruin this. He probably should have mentioned his plan with her beforehand, but that would have required him to elaborate a plan instead of just taking off and coming up with one as he drove to Clarke's gallery. Besides, Bellamy worked better alone. Octavia and Lincoln did all the research, and sometimes they did a bit of undercover work when he needed them to push a girl into his arms, but Bellamy mostly called the shots. Posing as Clarke's bodyguard would gain him close and constant access to her; she was part of Ark's elite, about to marry the Mayor's son, and Thelonius Jaha wasn't the most popular mayor in the history - it sounded legit.
He couldn't hear what Abigail Griffin was saying, but after a minute Clarke handed him her phone. "She's probably going to fire you. I don't think you're supposed to introduce yourself to people."
God, that girl was twelve, for real, Bellamy thought as he took her phone. "Mrs. Griffin?"
"I must admit that was a clever idea," Abigail said over the phone. "Except for the fact that Clarke hates it when I interfere in her life. She probably hates you now."
"I'm kinda used to it, ma'am."
"Listen, Clarke's staying in the hotel where the wedding is taking place, to supervise the last preparations. I can arrange for you to have the room adjoining hers. Wells is away for one of his charities and he'll only be back three days before the wedding."
"That won't be a problem."
"Good. Now would you please pass me my daughter again?"
Bellamy gave Clarke her phone back, and this time she went to what seemed to be her office to take the call. Bellamy could feel it wasn't going to be that easy, but spying on her wouldn't do much good. He took a stroll around the gallery instead, and had to agree with Lincoln's appreciative assessment of Clarke's talent. She exhibited both her paintings and local artists, but she had no reason to envy them. Bellamy wasn't an expert about art, but he loved history and museums and he'd never seen someone use colors in such a poignant way. There was a certain delicacy in her pastel, but strength, too; it was odd in a good way, if that made any sense.
His thoughts about art and Clarke and rich girls with unexpected skills were interrupted by Clarke grabbing his elbow and turning him around. "Okay," she started, hands on her hips. "Whatever my mom's paying you, I'll pay you double so you leave me alone. We have a deal?"
Bellamy sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not like I'm gonna follow you to the bathroom when you pee. You won't even notice I'm there."
She closed her eyes briefly, rubbing at her temple. "Look, I don't need protection, okay? I took karate classes for years as a kid, I can handle myself. My mom's just getting paranoid because that's what she does."
"Better be safe than sorry," Bellamy argued.
"Oh my God," Clarke let out with a heavy sigh. "Just name your price."
He shook his head. "I was hired for a job, I fully intend to do it. And you might think your mother is paranoid, but love and politics never go well together."
"Yeah, because I'm marrying the mayor's son who has zero interest in politics. So of course someone's gonna shoot me for it," she deadpanned.
"Or because forty-eight percent of Ark didn't vote for Thelonius Jaha and crazy people are everywhere," Bellamy countered. "You do realize some people believe your wedding is just a political move on his part to make himself look better and more human three months before the next elections, right?"
Clarke glared at him. It was too late to win her over, anyway, so angering her it was. But just as quickly as her face had turned dark, her features softened, and there was a gleam in her eye Bellamy couldn't quite define. "You seem so interested in my wedding, Bellamy," she said his name sweetly, like a promise. "You like that, don't you?" she asked, lifting a single finger to trace his chest.
Bellamy gulped. "What are you doing?" he asked as he pulled away.
"Oh, come on," Clarke cooed, smiling at him. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it. Isn't that supposed to be a guy fantasy, anyway? Screwing some bride-to-be just before her wedding? I've seen it in two movies at least. We can do it in the office. A nice farewell before you leave me alone." She bit on her lip, in that falsely shy, seductive way Bellamy had seen in all the movies and real-life, too, before she tiptoed just enough to murmur in his ear, "I'm not wearing any underwear, you'll just have to hike up my dress."
Bellamy had to give it to her, she was good. And she was hot and beautiful, which was a very dangerous combination. He'd never met anyone who could beat him up at his own game, though. "Fine, thirty thousand," he finally relented as he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. "Twenty for ten days, and another ten for wrongful termination of the contract."
Clarke beamed at him, as if she knew all along that embarrassing him would work, or that he'd prefer money over sex - which sounded legitimate, too. "See, I knew you could be reasonable. I'll write you a check."
She did, and slipped it in his front pocket, gently patting the spot there. "Let me at least drive you home," he offered. "I noticed there was no car in the lane."
Clarke rolled her eyes. "Just go save your next damsel in distress. I'll be fine. Now, go, I need to finish up some stuff before closing up and going to my mom's to yell at her properly."
She pushed him around, and Bellamy had no choice but letting her. They were at the door when he turned to her though, and said, "Sorry for the inconvenience, miss. And congratulations for your wedding."
She smiled. "Thank you."
She watched him leave, waiting at the door until he was in his car, before going back inside. Bellamy drove off, and parked just a little further, but still close enough to see the front door. Grabbing his phone, he speed-dialed for Lincoln. "Hey, Linc? Can you be here in ten minutes?"
"Did she crack your ribs? I've just read she took karate lessons for ten years."
"Very funny," Bellamy snorted. "I need you to assault her so I can be a hero."
There was silence, and then an angry Octavia answered. "Are you asking my husband to assault a woman? Is this something I've just actually heard you saying?" she scolded him. "Have you gone out of your mind?"
"Jesus, O, it's not like I asked him to strangle her, calm the fuck down -"
"Watch your language around my child, you idiot."
Bellamy rolled his eyes. Octavia had the biggest potty mouth ever. "Listen, I just need Lincoln to steal her purse or something. I tried to pose as her bodyguard but she says she can handle herself."
"You, a bodyguard?"
"You want to send your perfect eight-pack husband in and watch him flirt and seduce some rich, hot, girl, maybe?" Bellamy taunted his sister. Lincoln sure fitted the job better than he did, with his impressive body, despite being an all around giant ball of fluff who would never hurt anybody unless they hurt Octavia. "Because we could totally try that one out. Women love abs. And guys that go with them. Really, I don't care, let's do that."
"You do realize you're on speaker and I can hear this ridiculous argument, right?" Lincoln said. "I'll be there in ten."
And ten minutes later, Lincoln slipped into the passenger seat. "Aren't you supposed to charm her, man?" he asked.
"Charm doesn't work with stubborn girls like her. Antagonizing her is the best way," Bellamy said expertly.
Lincoln cocked an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "That's basic kindergarten psychology."
"It works."
"But it's stupid. What are you gonna do, pull at her pigtails and put sand in her underwear?"
Bellamy stared at him with wild eyes. "What kind of kindergarten kid were you?" he asked, before mumbling, "sand in her underwear, Jesus, what's wrong with you?"
Lincoln just stared back at him. "I'm just saying, it's stupid."
"It still works," Bellamy shrugged. After all, it wasn't like he'd been doing this for years now. "She's closing in ten. You go and grab her purse and make a run for it, I'm the nice bodyguard who stayed to watch over her just in case, I run after you and get the purse back. I'm a hero, she takes me back, and everything's perfect. Okay?"
Lincoln let out a rich laugh. "You sound more like a stalker than a nice bodyguard, you know."
Bellamy would have punched him, if Lincoln wasn't all muscle. "Whatever. Just go."
His brother-in-law rolled his eyes, before covering his face with a hood that looked like one of Octavia's tights - they really needed to get a real hood, if the whole thief/hero thing became a classic. Bellamy watched him as he went to hide, and waited.
Ten minutes later Clarke left the gallery, and was busy locking the door when Lincoln bumped into her and grabbed for her purse. He was too fast for her to react, and Bellamy barely had time to catch her eyes widening again when he jumped out of the car and made a run after Lincoln. He was waiting for him down the block, laughing. "Undercover work is fun."
"Yeah, don't get used to it. Octavia will kill me if I ask you to help too often," Bellamy replied. "Gimme the purse now."
Lincoln shook his head. "We've got to make it look real first," he said, with a hint of amusement in his tone. "That woman's not an idiot. If you don't look a little roughened up, she won't believe it."
Bellamy stiffened. Lincoln's fist was twice bigger than his, and he did mixed martial arts for fun. "Fine," he finally sighed, "but don't touch the -" He didn't finish that sentence, because Lincoln punched him in the face, hard, his fist colliding with his upper cheek and bumping his nose. "Oh my God, I think you broke my nose."
"I hardly touched it," Lincoln laughed, and patted him on the back. "Come on, what's a little bruise?"
Bellamy would have glared at him, if the very thought didn't make his head spin.
When he made his way back to the gallery, Clarke was sitting on the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around herself. She was a badass, Bellamy could feel it, but the suddenness of the attack had shocked her. She leaped to her feet when she saw him. "Oh my God, you're bleeding," Clarke whispered, lifting a hand to his swollen cheek.
Bellamy suppressed the urge to flinch. He'd seen worse, true, but Lincoln had gotten a little too much in character. "It's okay," he shrugged. "I got your purse back," he tried to smile.
Clarke frowned. "I don't care about my purse," she shook her head, and led him inside by the sleeve of his jacket. "Sit," she ordered softly. "I need to take a better look, you might need stitches."
"You're a doctor now?" Bellamy chuckled, but obediently sat on a chair as Clarke rummaged through a drawer in her back office.
She emerged back with a first-aid kit. "My mom's a trauma surgeon. I learned how to make stitches when I was ten." She didn't mention being a pre-med, so Bellamy didn't, either. He let her clean him up - there was blood dripping down his cheek - and tip his chin around to take a better look. "It's not too bad," she finally said, clinical, "but you'll be sore for a few days. I don't have an icepack here, but you could use one. And painkillers."
He shook his head, and winced. "I'm fine," he said, and tried to stand up but Clarke held him down with her hand on his shoulder. "Really, miss Griffin, I'm fine."
She sighed, and he felt it tickle his face. "Don't call me miss," she said. "You got beaten up for me. You should probably call me Clarke by now."
She gave him a smile, and he mirrored her. "I'm fine, Clarke. Really."
She looked like she wanted to argue that his face didn't agree with that statement, but she just worried her lip between her teeth, looking pensive for a minute. "Thank you, Bellamy," she finally murmured, and then dug her fingers in his front pocket to retrieve the check she'd made. "I don't think you'll need that," she said, before tearing it in pieces and throwing it in a trash bin.
Bellamy tried very hard not to grin.
to be continued
