A/N:

Hello there!

This is just an idea I had. If I get some feedback, I'll continue (I don't want to write stuff no one wants to read). Just a heads up before you start reading: this story is set in the 1920's in America. It isn't actually in America, but it's the same time period, the same events going on, the Prohibition-era and such, etc. . . .You'll understand. . . hopefully.

Anyways, I'll let you read.

I hope you like it!

I do not own any characters...darn...

She straightened her white hat as she neared Idris National Bank. She walked briskly, passing people who were just as absorbed in what they were doing as she was. She was already running late and her break had been over for two minutes already. Her boss hated it when she was late coming back from break. It wasn't her fault though. Her boyfriend had held her up and she was not going to deny him anything. It always ended badly.

As soon as the bank came into view, she nearly sprinted, bursting through the glass doors and running to the time slot machine. She slammed her card in just as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around slowly to face her boss.

"Ms. Fray," he said, deadly calm. His dark eyes were unreadable.

"I'm sorry Mr. Morgenstern—" she started.

"Sorry? This is the third time you've been late this week! Are you okay, Ms. Fray? Is something going on?"

"No," she said too rushed, too automatic. That's how everything was nowadays: automatic. She didn't have to think too much when someone asked if she was okay, it was always 'Yes, I'm fine' or 'No, nothing's wrong.' Those responses were second nature to her even though they were complete lies. She, however, would never tell anyone any different. He wouldn't like that.

"Are you sure?" Valentine asked.

"Yes." She nodded for emphasis.

He didn't seem sold but let it go nonetheless. "Okay, Ms. Fray. Back to work, then." He left.

She walked over to her space behind the counter and moved the closed sign. A few customers walked in but stopped near the door, appearing to be conversing. She was watching them closely. One of the two men walked back out of the door. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared down the street.

"Clary!"

She tore her gaze away from the man standing in front of the door and looked at Aline, her co-worker. She was coming toward Clary startlingly fast considering the shoes she was wearing.

Aline was always daring when it came to fashion. For example, today she was wearing a pale blue, simple dress with a pink ribbon tied in a bow across her hips. The daring part, however, was where it fell to: way above her knees. Her jewelry just added to it, with multicolored chunky bracelets on her wrists and a long chained necklace with a star pendant hanging around her neck.

Her shockingly long hair was curled to perfection and carefully pinned back to leave just a few pieces in front, framing her face. Her makeup was also very bold, especially her bright red lipstick.

"Clary, you were late again," Aline said as she moved to her spot behind the counter.

"I know," Clary said, not really caring.

"What kept you? Was it . . . ?" She let the question hang in the air.

Clary, however, didn't know what she was talking about so she quirked an eyebrow, forcing Aline to elaborate.

"Was it . . . Sebastian?" she said his name in a hushed tone.

Clary's jaw tightened at the mention of that name. "He—" she started but was interrupted.

"Why hello, ladies."

The smooth, rich voice belonged to a young man. A fine man at that. He was one of the men who Clary had watched walk in before.

Clary caught herself staring too long at the man standing in front of her and Aline.

Sitting atop his honey colored hair that was perfectly messy and fell into his face was a solid black fedora that matched his suit. His cheekbones were high and jaw strong. His golden—golden?—eyes were captivating, though they held something that Clary couldn't quite decipher. His gaze was intent as he looked at Clary, seeming to pay no attention to Aline.

"I am interested in opening an account here with Idris National Bank," the man stated, smoothing out his crisp, black suit with his hands before slipping them into his pockets. Clary couldn't help but notice how sharp he looked. "Could one of you fine ladies help me?" He addressed them both with his words but he hadn't once looked at Aline so Clary assumed his attention was directed more toward her. She, though, did not have a problem with that.

He raised an eyebrow, knocking Clary out of her thoughts.

"Um, yes, sir. I can help you set up an account, Mr. . . ?" she trailed off.

"Herondale. Mr. Jace Herondale," the man said. He lifted his hat slightly, running a hand through his hair before putting it back on and smirking.

Clary caught herself smiling back a little and stopped herself promptly. If he knew about that . . .

"If you would follow me, Mr. Herondale, I'll take you to Mr. Morgenstern. He is in charge of creating new accounts and such—"

"I'll just wait out here," said Mr. Herondale. "My brother is coming back with the papers that I forgot. He should only be a few minutes."

Clary nodded.

"Oh, and please, call me Jace." He threw her another wicked smirk.

She found herself unable to stop the smile this time that spreads across her lips. The back of her mind reminds her of what he would do if he knew that she was smiling at another man. Subconsciously, she tugged at the hem of her sleeves at her wrists.

"I'll just go get Mr. Morgenstern while you wait for your brother."

Clary left the counter and headed for her boss's office. She smoothed out her gray dress before pushing open the door.

Valentine Morgenstern was sitting at his desk, papers and books spread out in front of him in an array. He was glancing at different papers and scribbling things down into a book. It was several moments before he noticed her presence. He cleared his throat and wrote down a few more things before he addressed her.

"Yes, Ms. Fray?"

"Sir, there is a man who wishes to open an account here," she informed.

"Is that so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is he going to be a good client?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Clary said. "I haven't heard of his family. He said his name was Jace Herondale."

Valentine paled. "Herondale?"

She nodded. "Herondale."

Her boss was up in a flash and papers floated to the floor from his desk. His eyes were wide. "You let Jace Herondale into the bank? How many did he have with him?"

Clary didn't understand what he had a problem with. "He said he was waiting on his brother—"

"His brother!" Valentine wiped at his face with a hand. He sobered. "Clary—" he never used her first name "—do you know who Jace Herondale is?"

She jerked a thumb in the direction of the counter. "He's that man out there."

"No, Clary," Valentine said, shaking his head. He continued in a hushed tone and she had to lean in to hear him."He's Jace Herondale, notorious mobster and criminal. He's a smuggler too. The worst kind, he is. He hasn't been caught yet. People say he has a small group with him and that's how he can get everything done so quickly." He paused. "This might be a robbery," he said plainly.

Criminal?

Clary hadn't realized that he was a criminal.

Then she paused and thought rationally. That man, a criminal, was just outside this office. Aline was out there with him and he most definitely had a gun. She bit her lip and hoped that she could just disappear and not have to worry about a potential bank robbery.

"What are we to do, then, sir?" she asked.

Valentine looked intently at her. "We let him take what he wants."

"Sir," Clary said to Jace, "I see your brother has returned. Do you wish to see Mr. Morgenstern? He is in his office."

Jace shook his head. He motioned for his brother to stand away from him. "It's okay, miss. I've changed my mind about this whole account thing." He leaned toward her, hands steadying him from across the counter. His eyes never left hers. "Instead, I'd like to find out what time your shift ends so I can get you a drink."

He winked and Clary blushed. Determined to get the upper hand, she leaned in too, resting her elbows on the counter so she could meet his gaze level. She put on a smirk, hoping to throw him off.

She succeeded.

Jace's eyebrow cocked, almost challengingly. "So when do you get off?"

Clary raised her own eyebrows. "When do I get off? Sir, you do not even know my name and you try to court me? Very unlike a gentleman."

His eyes darkened slightly and she knew she'd won his curiosity.

"And it's very unlike a lady to turn me down." He paused. "Now that I think about it, I cannot recall a single time at which a woman has turned down my offer."

Clary's smirk widened. "Then you haven't met too many worthy women."

Jace smirked too. "I guess not. So how about I start?" He straightened and extended his hand to her.

She glanced at it before standing up as well.

"Hi. I'm Jace Herondale, miss. And you are?"

Clary raised her chin, smiling ever so slightly. "Clary Fray." She looked down at his hand again. "Are you going to put that down?"

Jace followed her gaze and smirked, lowering his hand. "Not too fond of hand shaking?"

"Not with men who have such low standards for women."

"When did I say I have low standards for women?"

Clary rolled her eyes. She actually didn't know why she was talking to this man. He was a criminal for Christ's sake! A very, very dangerous one at that. She shouldn't be pushing his buttons, but she couldn't stop herself.

"You expect women to be at your beck and call, sir," she said sharply. "As if we are merely servants. We have more rights than that. We deserve better than that."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautifully captivating green eyes?"

Clary opened her mouth but couldn't respond because his remark was not what she was expecting.

Jace smiled. Not a smirk like he had been doing, but an actual smile. "I suppose not since I seem to have rendered you speechless."

Clary just stared, still unable to speak.

Jace chuckled. "You don't suppose I could speak with Mr. Morgenstern now, Ms. Fray?"

That shook her out of her reverie. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course."

She could hear her boss's words in her head: "We let him take what he wants."

Clary nods her head in the direction of the hallway that led to Valentine's office. She started toward it, assuming Jace would follow. As she approached the hall, she turned to see Jace there, walking close behind her. He stopped.

"Yes?"

Clary shook her head. She pointed toward the closed door at the end of the hallway. "His office is there on the left. The last door."

Jace smirked. "Thank you, miss." He gave her a small salute and started down the hall.

Clary watched him walk. His stride was confident, easy. He even carried himself like the arrogant criminal that he was.

In the last glimpse she got of him before he disappeared into her boss's office, she saw him pull something from behind his back, underneath his suit jacket. She realized it must have been tucked away so no one would see it.

This man was good.

Clary almost hoped he wouldn't get caught any time soon so she could continue conversing with him, get to know him.

Her wistful thoughts, however, were pushed out of her mind when she grasped the severity of the situation.

The object shined slightly in the lighting.

It was the last thing she saw before the door closed.

A Tommy Gun.

A/N:

Anyone else think Jace makes for a very sexy mobster/gangster? I do... :)

Oh! I figured I should mention something else: I'm sort of modeling Jace's character off of Al Capone...just figured I should mention that...

BTW: I described Aline's clothes just so you could get a feel for what the girls wore in this time period. If you want a better idea, just Google 1920's women's fashion or something of that sort.

Thank you for reading!

Please let me know if I should continue! :)