Warren stared at the shimmering red jewel that sat in the centre of Clare's desk. But he didn't notice its breathtaking beauty or the way that the light seemed to flicker and dance joyfully inside the diamond, nor did he see how it reflected the light outwards to cast a myriad of designs across the walls, creating an effect that most artists would be proud of.
All Warren could see as he looked at the Red Death Diamond was the vast amount of money he was going to be paid when he handed it over. Warren had no time for things of beauty. Looking at such an item could not feed his soul because Warren had long since forsaken his soul in favour of more tangible rewards. Money was the only thing that mattered in Warren's world. Money and the things, or the people, he could buy with it. And anything he found he could not buy Warren was more than happy to take. Having no soul gave the man no sense of guilt or remorse. If he wanted he took, until he was satisfied, but he never seemed to be satisfied. The more he had the more he wanted. The hunger was endless and consuming.
Clare sat nervously in her chair. The chair that normally made her feel powerful and strong, the chair that said she was in charge. Anyone entering Clare Devine's office knew their place, just like they knew she could shatter their world with a flutter of her eyes and not even see the devastation left behind. Anyone entering the office at that moment would not have recognised the woman.
Clare's hands were laced together on the surface of her desk only inches from the diamond. She wanted to reach out and touch it but at the same time she wanted to push it away. Its beauty was astounding but it wasn't the beauty that she saw as she stared into its mysterious blood red depths, it was the account of all the deaths that had followed the gem since it was first discovered. Clare was a sensible level headed woman who was not adverse to doing whatever it took to get the upper hand, she wasn't the sort to believe in curses. But as she looked into the heart of the diamond Clare felt afraid and she would be glad when Warren took it out of her sight.
---
John Paul had been reluctant to leave Craig's apartment, just as the dark haired man had been reluctant to let him go. For a while, cocooned in the comfort of each other the outside world had ceased to exist.
The Ocelot and The Knight didn't seem to matter as John Paul traced a lazy finger over Craig's bare chest, feeling the strong beat of the heart beneath. Catching John Paul's hand Craig kissed the man's fingers lightly.
"I really have to get moving," Craig said with a sigh, "I've got a job on in a few hours…"
"Phone in sick," John Paul replied, deliberately snuggling up closer to his boyfriend to make the idea of leaving even less appealing. "Tell them you've got a spot."
"With skin as perfect as mine?" Craig replied with a laugh, "Who would ever believe it? Besides it's a swimwear shoot, no one's gonna be looking at my face!"
"Tart," John Paul teased as he squeezed Craig's nipple hard, making the man yelp and laugh at the same time.
"You better believe it," Craig agreed as John Paul slowly pulled himself upright.
"Suppose there'll be lots of semi-naked women at the shoot then?"
"I expect there will…"
"Draping themselves all over you?"
"At the very least…"
"You better keep your hands to yourself then," John Paul warned, half jokingly, as he got to his feet and began to adjust his clothing that was in a considerable about of disarray.
"Me?" Craig replied in mock innocence, "Is them you have to worry about…" Getting to his feet Craig took hold of John Paul's hands and looked into the, still sore looking, gentle blue eyes. All joking left Craig's voice when he spoke again. "There's only one person I want my hands on these days… I mean it John Paul… all that other stuff, it's behind me now… It's just you… just you…"
---
Wrapping his arms across his chest to block out the winter chill John Paul kept his head down as he walked to his car. He had attempted to brave the streets without the dark glasses but, despite the chill of the wind, the day was particularly bright and he had quickly dug into his jacket pocket to retrieve the glasses.
John Paul McQueen had never liked being the focus of attention, an attribute that probably led him to a life behind the camera lens, and he felt self conscious as he drove home. Wearing dark glasses in winter, it was just asking to be noticed.
As he stopped the car at the traffic lights John Paul's attention wandered towards a street vendor. The cold grimy looking man stood beside a cart laden with the days newspapers, a small billboard of the top story by its side.
John Paul read the headline and felt his heart sink.
"Red Death Diamond stolen – Ocelot suspected."
The Ocelot had stolen that priceless jewel and The Knight had let him escape, John Paul had let him escape.
The beeping of several car horns brought John Paul back to the present moment and he clumsily put his car into gear, speeding away from the traffic lights that he hadn't notice change, to the accompanying calls of abuse from his fellow motorists.
---
"So what happens now?" Clare asked, trying to keep her tone light and her gaze from the cursed jewel in the centre of her desk, the dancing lights flickering over its highly polished surface.
"Happens?" Warren replied with a frown.
"With the…" Clare nodded towards the diamond.
"My buyer's out of town till next week at which point I make him a very happy man… and then he makes me an even happier one."
"So what are you going to do with it till then?"
"Do with it?" Warren echoed. "It's staying here…"
"What?" Clare's eyes widened with trepidation. He couldn't possibly mean that, could he? It must be some kind of joke but as Clare took in Warren's calm expression she knew it was no joke.
"What exactly did you think your part in all this was?" Warren asked incredulously, "I developed the plan, I broke in to the museum and stole the diamond, I made the contact that will pay handsomely for it… seriously Clare, what did you think your role was?"
"I don't know… I… I just…" Clare shrugged. She hadn't really considered why Warren had needed her assistance in a theft that he had, so far, handled alone but as she realised why she was needed Clare wanted nothing more than to back out. "I just don't like the idea of it being here…" Clare said quietly.
Warren laughed. The sound was hollow and lacking any real humour and yet it's mocking quality was all too evident.
"It's a stone Clare," Warren taunted, "Just a bit of stone that people happen to like the look of…"
"But the curse… all those deaths…"
"Let me put it this way," Warren said coldly as he got to his feet and walked around the desk until he was towering over the blonde woman. "If you back out now there will be another death they can add to the list…" Picking up the diamond Warren pushed it into Clare's hand, wrapping her fingers around it and pressing them down firmly until they crushed against the cold gem, making Clare wince in pain. "And we wouldn't want that would we?"
Clare shook her head in response, letting out a sigh of relief as he released his grip on her hand, allowing her to drop the diamond quickly onto the desktop as if it had burned her skin.
"Good girl," Warren said softly, his hand stroked the length of Clare's silken hair before slipping around her neck to grip lightly at her throat. "You don't want to disappoint me do you?"
Once again Clare shook her head, Warren's fingers hot against her skin as she swallowed hard.
There was something about Warren Fox. Something exciting, something terrifying. The cold of his eyes and the heat of his touch make Clare shudder as his fingers slid down her neck until they caught in the top button of her deep red blouse. The fabric was soft and almost sheer, suggesting that it could be seen through if only you looked hard enough but Warren had no intention of straining his eyes.
"Good," Warren said again as he slipped open Clare's top button, "Because I hate being disappointed…"
"And I wouldn't want to do that," Clare said in a somewhat breathless voice, her eyes fixed on Warren's impassive face as he quickly made his way through all the buttons of her blouse until it fell open to expose her milky white skin and her firm breasts, which were covered only by the lace of her scarlet bra.
A part of Clare found Warren terrifying, he was a danger and she knew it. But he was also intoxicating and, as he cupped one pert breast in the palm of his hand it never crossed her mind to refuse him or to try and stop him. His touch, his very presence, enticed her and Clare moaned softly as Warren's hand squeezed her breast hard, his fingers pinching against the nipple that had grown hard.
Warren smiled, a small curve of his lips that made him look, if it were possible, even colder as the smile never quite made it to his eyes. It was a smile of satisfaction, of knowing he would get what he wanted, but then Warren always got what he wanted. He made sure of that.
Very few women ever resisted Warren's advances. Whether it was through lust or fear, and he didn't care which, they usually succumbed to him and on the rare occasion that they didn't he would simply take what he wanted anyway.
But Warren always preferred it if they wanted him. He had no interest in knowing if the women he fucked enjoyed it as such, but rather he enjoying knowing that they wanted him; that he could make them moan and beg and scream out his name. Warren loved to feel a woman tremble at his touch, much as Clare was doing as he continued to knead her breasts through the fabric of her bra.
"Stand up," Warren instructed simply, stepping back as Clare rose to her feet and stood uncertainly before him.
Clare had spent most of her adult life in charge. In charge of her business or of her husband, it all meant the same to her. She had always been the one in control but Warren made her feel powerless and, instead of hating the feeling, Clare found it strangely erotic and enthralling.
She knew at that moment that Warren could do anything he wanted to her. And it was not only that he could but also the fact that Clare wanted him to. She wanted him to take charge of her, of her body, she wanted him to dominate her like no man had ever managed to before and her flesh ached in anticipation of his next touch.
With a rough shove Warren pushed Clare against her office wall, the weight of his body pressed hard against her and the firmness of his erection grinding into her groin. Clare licked her glossy red lips in anticipation of a kiss that never came. Instead Warren's mouth fell to her neck where he bit her, hard, making her cry out in startled pain as his hands hitched up her tight black skirt until it was bunched around her slender waist.
Warren grinned as his hands ran over the top of Clare's stocking, his thumbs hooking into the sides of her dainty lace knickers, which tore as he pulled at them, tossing their shredded remains to one side.
Clare winced as the fabric of her underwear cut into her thighs for a moment before giving way and being discarded, she was certain there would be a mark there by morning.
Warren bit harder into Clare's neck as he nudged her feet further apart, his fingers slipping easily inside her as she groaned at his touch. Warren pushed two and then three fingers deep into Clare's hot flesh, fucking her roughly with his hand as her moans became louder and more breathless.
Stepping back Warren grinned as he pushed his sodden fingers into Clare's ruby red mouth, watching with satisfaction as she sucked her own juices from his skin, saliva running down her chin as Warren's fingers stretched her mouth widely.
Grabbing her by the shoulders Warren pushed Clare down over her desk, unzipping his jeans and freeing his cock so quickly that she barely had time to catch her breath before he was inside her.
Warren's cock felt hard and thick as it slammed deep inside Clare's soaking wet pussy and she groaned loudly, her crimson fingernails clawing the surface of her desk as he gripped her hips and began to fuck her, hard.
Warren grunted with each forward thrust, the satisfying slap of skin against skin as his cock enjoyed the silken heat that enveloped it.
Grabbing one of Clare's hands he pushed it between her legs. "Make yourself come," he panted into her ear.
Clare began to rub her clit with one finger, slowly at first, but growing faster as Warren increased the speed of his thrusts until she was moaning and trembling, her climax so close that she had no ability, or desire, to stop it.
"Oh god Warren fuck me," Clare panted, "Fuck me hard…"
Warren slammed his cock harder into Clare's willing body as she cried out, shuddering with pleasure as she came, her body contracting against Warren's cock, making him grunt loudly and tighten his hold on her hips as he thrust deeply inside her, shooting his hot creamy load in wave after wave of satisfaction.
The second Warren was spent he withdrew and quickly tucked his rapidly deflating cock back inside his jeans before zipping them back up.
"Thanks," he said without emotion as he headed for the door. "Now put that diamond away somewhere safe and I'll call you when I'm ready for it."
Clare stood at her desk, panting and dishevelled for a few moments after Warren had gone before shaking her head and trying to regain her senses. With trembling fingers she adjusted her skirt and fumbled with the buttons of her blouse trying to convince herself that she still looked composed. Whereas in reality she looked like what she was. A woman who had just been well and truly fucked.
---
Craig took a deep lungful of the crisp January air. Despite the disappointment of the previous evening he felt good and nothing could spoil his mood.
He might have missed out on his prize, for now, but he had something that was even more valuable. He had someone who loved him. Not Craig Dean the model or Craig The Ocelot but him. Just Craig. And he hadn't had that since his mother died.
It was two hours before Craig had to be at the photo shoot and he had decided to enjoy the bright day by walking the journey that he would normally drive.
Whistling to himself Craig almost didn't see the thing that would change his mood instantly but, from the corner of his eye something caught his attention and it didn't even register fully in his mind until he turned to face the white board that seemed to call to him.
Leaning against one wall and beside a newsstand was the billboard emblazoned with the days headline, a headline that made Craig grind his teeth in annoyance.
"Red Death Diamond stolen – Ocelot suspected."
Craig couldn't believe it. Not only had the diamond been snatched from right under his nose but worst of all he was still getting the credit for the theft. In Craig's mind he didn't see it as blame, as pulling off such a heist was something he would be proud of, but only if he had achieved it. Seeing his pseudonym related to a crime he had not achieved gnawed at Craig's chest and he vowed, once again, to make sure the diamond was in his possession as soon as he could.
Craig's annoyance was so great that he almost missed the second thing that would call his attention and change his day completely.
Towards the other end of the street stood the offices to DevineFashions and, as Craig continued to head towards them, he saw a figure exiting the building. Someone that had no business visiting a fashion house. Someone that very few people even knew. Warren Fox. The Fox.
Despite having kept his own identity hidden from everyone Craig had still managed to discover the truth behind all of the major thieves in the city over the past few years. Not that he ever intended to do anything with such information, but he liked to know who his rivals were and at times it had proved useful.
Without knowing the identity of The Fox Craig would not have noticed the man leaving DevineFashions that morning but, knowing who the man was, Craig's curiosity was peaked and he decided to pay a brief visit to the owner of the fashion house.
Clare looked flustered as Craig walked into her office without knocking but a glint of red as she quickly stuffed something into her desk drawer told Craig everything he needed to know.
"Craig…" Clare stammered trying, and failing, to appear composed. "What are you doing here?"
"Just passing and thought I'd stop by," Craig lied with a practiced smile. "There was no one in your secretary's office to let you know I was here."
Clare's eyes flickered towards the door and the office that lay beyond it. Her latest secretary had been fired only that morning, which had been convenient while Warren was there but less so when it came to screening out visitors.
"Right… well…" Clare said, lacing her hands in front of her on her desk and smiling at Craig in what she hoped was an alluring manner. "I am rather busy so if it was nothing specific…"
Craig grinned. A few seconds after entering the room he had surveyed the scene in its entirety. From the diamond being hastily stuffed into Clare's desk, to her incorrectly buttoned blouse and torn underwear in the corner of the room.
Craig knew everything he needed to and had no real desire to converse with the woman who, quite frankly gave him chills. He had even managed to check out the relatively basic security devices while appearing to stand nonchalantly before her desk.
"Well I wouldn't want to keep you Clare," Craig said with his trademark winning smile, "Like I said I was just passing…"
"Maybe another time," Clare replied smiling again and silently urging the annoying model from her office, "You know you're welcome to stop by."
"Don't worry," Craig replied as he turned to leave, "You can bet I will."
---
"So… have they forgiven you yet?" John Paul asked with a teasing smile as he looked across the dinner table at his companion.
"They?" Craig asked with a frown, the lights from the candles in the centre of the restaurants table dancing seductively inside the depths of his chocolate brown eyes.
"The cats," John Paul giggled, "It's been two days, you must have gotten around them by now!"
"Of course… how could they stay mad at me for long?"
"What did it cost you?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Craig grinned as he wolfed down another mouthful of pasta, his eyes never leaving the face of his boyfriend. Before John Paul sexual partners had been just that, someone to enjoy the physical pleasures of the body with. Craig's sexuality had never really occurred to him, it didn't matter; man or woman it made no difference as long as it was good. But until John Paul he had never openly dated another man, his dinner dates in the public eye had tended to be with one beautiful woman or another, each one serving to enhance his reputation or his career, he never cared which.
Since meeting John Paul things had changed. Now he wanted to be seen out with the man who made his heart race just by smiling, he wanted people to see this wonderful thing he had found. Craig Dean wanted the world to know he was in love.
"Craig those cats are spoiled," John Paul admonished gently, "and you know they are… so come on, how did you win them round?"
"With my charm obviously," Craig replied with a grin that dazzled brightly, making John Paul laugh and shake his head.
"And the truth?"
"OK I might have bought some extra caviar, and smoked salmon, and perhaps a fillet or two of trout…"
Laughing harder John Paul reached across the table and took a gentle hold of Craig's hand, savouring both the warmth of the man's touch and also the electricity that seemed to radiate through his body as they connected.
"Those cats eat better than I do," John Paul complained with a pout.
"Oh you poor starving artist," Craig chuckled, squeezing John Paul's fingers affectionately.
"You better believe it!"
"What can I say? I can't help pampering them… they're my…" Craig paused, his cheeks flushing gently in the glow of the candle, giving his features an innocence that took John Paul's breath away.
"Go on you might as well say it," John Paul teased.
"Don't know what you mean…"
"Craig…"
Craig laughed, his blush growing deeper under John Paul's steady gaze and the confession that the other man already knew. "They're…" Craig turned his eyes to focus on John Paul's fingers laced tightly within his own. "They're my babies," he said quietly and with a touch of embarrassment, "I've got to look after them."
Craig could still remember the first time he had laid eyes on Nikolai and Malaysia, just kittens then, small and helpless but with the ability to instantly steal his heart.
The second he saw them Craig had known he had to have them, which had given him two problems. Firstly they weren't actually for sale and secondly he had broken into the house with an entirely different target.
The large Tudor style house had been easy to break into, the alarm system, although top of the range, one that The Ocelot had mastered months earlier and he had padded on silent feet through the ground floor rooms looking for his prize. The Ocelot didn't normally like to break into people's homes, he was no petty burglar and despite his life of crime he still retained some principals.
But there were times he would make the exception and, seeing the owner's recent interview on the television made him an ideal target. The overweight balding man in his 50's was arrogant, crass and thoroughly ignorant. Inheriting a fortune he neither deserved nor respected irritated Craig's sensibilities and watching the man gloat over his newest acquisition of an antique, and rather beautiful, oil painting set Craig's teeth on edge.
Not only did the man not appreciate the aesthetics of his purchase but he also seemed ignorant of anything but its monetary value and as such he didn't deserve to own such an object.
The Ocelot had been standing before the landscape when a sound behind him had caught his attention. Turning he saw a small black fabric carry case with a mesh front, and peering out from its dark interior were the glowing, pleading eyes, of two tiny kittens.
The young cats meows were small and plaintive and pulled The Ocelot away from the painting to crouch before the carry case, his fingertips reaching out to its occupants.
"Well what have we got here?" The Ocelot asked in a hushed voice, "You don't look very happy in there…"
"Mrrrow…" The larger of the two kittens replied, butting his head against the mesh in a quest for affection and rubbing his ears against The Ocelot's gloved fingers.
Leaning forward The Ocelot's nose wrinkled, the case in which the kittens were house smelled soiled as if they had been in there for some time and as they continued to press against the mesh in search of attention The Ocelot knew it was something they were currently being deprived of.
The Ocelot's gaze flicked back to the painting on the wall. It was beautiful, breathtaking, and worth an absolute fortune. It would adorn his apartment perfectly and teach its current owner a well deserved lesson.
Looking back at the carry case The Ocelot smiled. He had neither the time nor the ability to carry both the painting and the kittens from the house. Within minutes the backup generator would kick in and the house would once again be fully alarmed and The Ocelot had to be out and away before that happened.
"Well I've got plenty of paintings," The Ocelot told the two kittens as he lifted up the case in one hand, supporting its dipping base with the other, "But you two are something a lot more precious… although I don't know what I have in my apartment that cats would like to eat… suppose you might enjoy that jar of caviar I haven't opened yet…"
Craig had doted on the two cats from the moment he had brought them into his home and had never once in the intervening years considered that he had stolen them. Rather he had rescued the small felines and given them the kind of life that he believed they deserved and they loved him for it, just as much as he loved them, even if they did sulk at him occasionally.
"You are a big softie Craig Dean," John Paul said with a warm loving smile, his voice bringing Craig back to the present and making the man echo his lover's smile.
"You wouldn't have me any other way," Craig replied, tilting his head to one side slightly and tightening his grip on John Paul's fingers as a thought seemed to occur to him, although in truth it was a thought he had had many times. "John Paul?"
"Yeah?"
"Come away with me…"
"What? You mean like on holiday?"
"Yeah, no… I don't know… it's just… Hollyoaks City, it's just so… Don't you want more John Paul?"
John Paul smiled as he pulled Craig's hand to his mouth and gently kissed the man's fingertips. "I've got all I want," he said with sincerity.
"I'm serious."
"So am I…"
"But John Paul, what has this city got to keep us here?"
"I don't know… friends… our work…"
"John Paul," Craig laughed softly, "You're a top class photographer, you could get work anywhere… and so could I… think of it, you and me… anywhere in the world…"
"I…" John Paul hesitated. How could he answer truthfully? When he mentioned work it wasn't really his career as a photographer that he was referring to but rather the work for which he never got any recognition. The work that he had taken on himself when he first donned the costume of The Knight, but how could Craig know that? How could Craig ever understand what it meant to live a life in secret like that?
John Paul's brilliant blue eyes shone with confusion and anguish, a look deep in the sapphire pools that caused a sharp pain in Craig's chest and made him regret his suggestion.
As much as Craig revelled in the life of The Ocelot more and more he realised that he stole simply because he could rather than any great desire for the objects that came into his possession. The more time passed, the more time he spent with John Paul, the less the thrill of The Ocelot seemed to matter to Craig but he knew that while he stayed in the city that had shown him the ease of such a lifestyle he would not be able to just walk away, no matter how much he might want to.
"It doesn't matter," Craig said as he let go of John Paul's hand and topped up their champagne flutes, the sparkling liquid dancing in the candle light. "It was just a thought, it's not important…"
"Maybe one day yeah?" John Paul replied, picking up the glass and taking a sip of his champagne.
"Yeah one day."
The two men looked at each other, unaware of their surroundings or the bustle of waiters and other diners, the world consisted of just the two of them and they both whispered a silent prayer that it could always be that way. But they both knew that it couldn't, not as long as they held onto their secrets.
---
The Ocelot grinned to himself as he swiftly navigated the empty corridors of the darkened office building. For three days, or rather three nights, he had monitored the building. He had carefully mapped out each alarm point and timed the repetitive routine of the two security guards.
The guards would take it in turns checking out the offices, casting their flashlights around the empty rooms without really looking, after all what would there be to see? What was there worth stealing? They would do their rounds quickly before returning to their companion and the latest game of cards, or DVD or whatever else they chose to entertain themselves in the early hours of the morning.
What they would have done if they had discovered a burglar in their midst they didn't know, but then they weren't about to find out because The Ocelot wasn't that careless. No one would ever know he had been there. Well no one but Clare and The Fox, and who would they report the crime to? Who could you tell that an object you stole had been stolen?
The Ocelot laughed quietly as he picked the lock on Claire's office door, its hinges creaking slightly as he pushed it open and stepped inside.
Craig almost felt bad at the ease with which The Ocelot found the safe secreted behind one rather tasteless and tacky paintings before attaching a listening device, fashion on a hospital stethoscope, to its door and clicking the dial carefully around until the combination was revealed to him.
Holding his breath The Ocelot opened the safe door and reached inside, curling his fingers around the solitary object. The weight of the diamond in his hand felt comforting, exciting, a thrill the like of which he could get nowhere else, almost nowhere else. For an instant Craig wondered what John Paul McQueen would think of The Ocelot's activities but he quickly pushed the thought aside as he looked into the shimmering blood red depths of the illusive Red Death Diamond.
It was exquisite; it was unique and, as he slipped it into his pocket The Ocelot smiled widely. It was his.
---
A few people had noticed how increasing on edge Clare was becoming. The normally volatile woman was well known for her mood swings and everyone who worked at DevineFashions knew to walk on eggshells where she was concerned.
But over the past two days she had changed, jumping in her seat every time someone knocked on the door and insisting that no one… NO ONE… was allowed inside her office without their arrival being notified first.
Clare was often observed pacing the length of her office, her high red heels passing back and forth over the same route along the carpet from her desk to the wall opposite and back again. Every time she reached the wall she would stop for a moment, her hand resting beside the tacky painting that hung there, fingers twitching nervously before she spun on her heels and walked back to her desk. Only to repeat the walk moments later.
Clare had hated putting the Red Death Diamond into her wall safe, its very presence unnerved her and her dreams were haunted by tales of the countless deaths that had been attributed to the ruby coloured gem. Every morning after Warren had left the diamond in her care Clare's first job had been to check on it, ensuring it was safely tucked away in a place where no one would ever think of looking.
And then one morning, it wasn't.
Clare's reaction had gone from alarm to concern to full out frantic panic as she tore her office apart searching for the stone that had somehow vanished from her office.
Pulling drawers from her desk Clare tried to convince herself that she had put the diamond inside one of those instead of in the safe, an accidental slip that she would rectify the second the jewel was back in her possession.
But it wasn't found in any drawer, nor in her waste paper basket or the wine decanter.
The Red Death was gone and Clare had no explanation how or why and in two days time Warren was due back to collect it.
Returning to her desk Clare turned on her laptop, quickly accessing the internet and booking the first flight she could away from Hollyoaks City, it didn't matter where she went she just knew she had to get away before Warren returned.
Looking around her office Clare sighed. She had enjoyed the life of a fashion mogul; even if she wasn't a very successful one, but now Clare Devine knew that she had to do something she had done before. She had to get away and start again.
Another city, another country, another life and another collection of lies. Starting again was never something Clare enjoyed but it was something she was capable of doing with ease. It wouldn't take long before she would latch on to a rich man who longed to take care of the fragile flower he would believe Clare to be.
Clare Devine was a survivor and right now she knew her survival depended on not being there when Warren came to collect the missing diamond.
---
Craig smiled as he rolled the Red Death Diamond around in his hands, passing it from left to right and back again, his gaze mesmerised by the dancing lights that seemed to shimmer and leap in the diamond's heart. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever owned, its cold weight felt solid and comforting in his hands and he found it difficult to put down. No sooner had he placed it on the small stand that he had purchased especially for it, than it was again in his grasp. Its beauty was addictive and Craig was quickly becoming a willing junkie, even the plaintive meows of his hungry cats didn't register in Craig's mind as his entire focus swam inside the blood read centre of his prize.
Craig ran his fingers lightly over the jewel's surface, caressing each of its many faceted sides as he would the features of a tender lover, and looking at it with just as much affection.
He cried out in sudden pain, the diamond falling from his grip and rolling away to rest against the far wall as Craig looked down accusingly at the source of his discomfort.
Nikolai looked up at his owner's deep brown eyes and mewed his dissatisfaction. He was hungry and Craig was neglecting his duties, a crime for which the only suitable punishment, in Nikolai's mind at least, was sharp claws to the bare thigh.
Craig looked in astonishment at the red drops of blood that bloomed on his skin where the cat's nails had pierced.
"What was that for?" Craig asked the feline who was still nudging the man with his face and voicing his displeasure. It was only then that Craig realised how light the room had become, the single desk lamp had originally been the only illumination for the object of his concentration, but the night had long since passed into morning and Craig realised he had been sat for many hours just staring at the jewel and worse than that he realised it was something he had done ever since the diamond had come into his possession.
Everything else had been neglected in favour of the Red Death and Craig felt a little unnerved by the fact, there was something frighteningly addictive about the gem and Craig had fallen completely under its spell.
With a deep breath Craig scooped Nikolai up in one hand and got to his feet, he moved to collect the diamond from the floor but then hesitated. It would come to no harm where it was and Craig wasn't sure if he picked it up he would be able to let it go again.
"Come on Nikolai," Craig said as he tickled the cat's chin, to the accompaniment of a satisfactory purr, "I think you and Malaysia deserve an extra special dinner don't you? Silly Craig spending so long with a piece of stone…" Closing the door to his hidden room Craig cast one last longing look to where the diamond lay before shutting it from view. "It's not nearly as beautiful as you two…" It was then that Craig realised it wasn't only his two pets he had been neglecting over the last few days and, once two silver bowls had been laden with caviar and smoked salmon, Craig settled down on his sofa and picked up the telephone.
---
"Craig?" John Paul's voice questioned from the other end of the line, "Craig who? I used to know a Craig Dean once…"
"Yeah very funny," Craig replied with a sheepish grin.
"Craig where have you been?" John Paul asked with a slight air of frustration to his voice, "I've left you hundreds of messages, I was getting worried…"
"Hundreds?" Craig asked with a small laugh.
"OK a couple," John Paul conceded, "But that's not the point, you could have called… I was beginning to think…"
"What?"
"I dunno… that you wanted to dump me…" John Paul's cheeks flushed pinkly and he was glad that his lover was only on the telephone and unable to see his embarrassment.
"As if!" Craig exclaimed as if the mere idea of such a thing was ludicrous.
"Well what was I supposed to think Craig? You haven't been in touch in three days now…"
"Err… you could think that your boyfriend's an idiot…"
"I already knew that!" John Paul couldn't help but smile as he rested his head on the back of the sofa and listened to the warm caress of Craig's voice. The truth was he had been afraid that the model was ending their relationship with that tried and tested method of silence, and the relief he felt knowing that wasn't the case was surprisingly strong. It was almost as if he had been given a death sentence only to have it revoked at the last second.
"He's a sorry idiot," Craig said with a smile that John Paul could feel even if he couldn't see it.
"How sorry?"
"Let me come over there and I'll show you!"
John Paul looked at his watched and grimaced. "I've got to leave for a job in ten minutes," he said sadly.
"Typical," Craig pouted in classic super-model style. "You should give up work…"
"And do what?" John Paul laughed.
"You could become my permanent sex-slave…"
"You couldn't afford me!"
"Ahh you wouldn't charge me that much…"
"A man's gotta earn a crust…"
"John Paul McQueen I would spend every penny I had keeping you in silk sheets and satin ropes!"
"Satin ropes?"
"Just a thought…"
"I like it…"
"Me too… let me come over and I'll show you how much…"
"You have some satin ropes?" John Paul asked with a giggle.
"I could get some on my way…"
"Craig I've got to go out…" John Paul sighed with longing and regret. His groin ached pleasantly at the idea of seeing Craig and also the promise of satin ropes.
"Oh well," Craig said with a heavy dose of melodrama, "I suppose I'll just have to lie here alone and imagine what I would do with those ropes…"
"And what exactly would you do?"
"You don't have time to listen… you've got work to do!"
"Craig!" John Paul objected, "I've still got a few minutes…"
"No, no," Craig teased, "I don't want to be distracting the famous photographer from his work… you run along now and don't give it another thought…"
"Craig Dean you are pure evil sometimes… you do know that don't you?"
"Of course," Craig laughed, "But you wouldn't change me for the world…"
"No," John Paul agreed, "I really wouldn't."
---
"Miss Devine there's a gentleman here to see you."
Clare grimaced at the voice of her latest assistant coming through the intercom on her telephone, Catherine, Caroline? It didn't really matter. She had just finished organising the last details of her escape from Hollyoaks City and the last thing she needed was some designer wannabe interrupting her.
"Tell him I'm in a meeting…"
After a pause the voice of Carol came through again. "Erm Miss Devine… he's refusing to leave… say's it's urgent… He's kind of…" Carol's voice dropped to a hushed whisper, "He's scary…"
The colour drained from Clare's face and her hands shook with fear.
"Miss Devine what should I tell him?"
Biting her lip Clare tried desperately to think of a way to get out of her office before the man on the other side of the door could enter. But there was no other exit, a quick glance at the window caused her to shake her head, there was no escape route to be found three floors up. She was trapped, like a chicken in a coup waiting for the approaching fox.
"I couldn't wait any longer," Warren said as he barged through the door and into Clare's office, a flustered looking young woman hot on his heels, scared that she might lose her job but even more scared of what the intimidating man might have done if she'd tried to stop him. "For some reason your secretary didn't want to let me in… why would that be Clare?"
Dismissing Carol with a wave of her hand Clare laughed nervously. "Oh Warren! I didn't realise it was you… you're early… I wasn't expecting you for another couple of days yet…"
"My buyer got home early and wanted his new trinket…" Warren fell heavily into one of the chair facing Clare's desk and looked at the woman coldly.
She looked nervous and uncertain and it amused him. Warren liked people being afraid of him, he liked the power it gave him and, when the fear was coming from a beautiful woman, it was an incredible turn on. Warren mentally calculated whether he had time to fuck her again before taking the diamond and leaving; he decided he probably would, if he was quick…
"So come on," Warren said slapping his palms down heavily on the smooth wooden surface of the desk, "Let's be seeing the pretty little thing…"
"Erm…" Clare fidgeted in her seat, Warren's steady gaze making her blood run cold.
"Clare… where's my diamond?"
Clare's eyes darted around the room, searching for anywhere to rest but on the man facing her.
"It's not my fault…" Clare said quietly. Was it too late to call the police she wondered, if she pressed the intercom button on her phone and screamed for help would anybody come? Would anybody even care?
"Where is my diamond?" Warren asked again, getting to his feet and walking slowly but deliberately around the desk until he towered over the fragile looking blonde woman.
"It was here and… and…" Clare stuttered as the heavy weight of Warren's hand rested on her shoulder, its grip tightening until she winced with pain. "I don't know what happened…"
"I want that diamond NOW!" Grabbing Clare roughly by the shoulders Warren pulled her to her feet and glared into her face, making her whole body tremble with fear, not only at the anger she saw there but also the lack of any basic human compassion.
"I don't have it," Clare whimpered softly.
"Don't tell me that Clare… just go and get it…"
"I don't… I don't know where it is…"
Warren's large rough fingers slid around Clare's throat, just resting there lightly, but still pressing hard enough to make the woman gulp. "Get it…"
"Warren I can't… It's gone… someone… someone took it…"
"So let me get this straight… some unknown person suddenly decided to break into this office and steal a diamond that they had no way of knowing was here?"
"Yes… I…."
"How fucking stupid do you think I am Clare?" With his hand still around the woman's throat Warren pushed her roughly backwards until her back slammed against the wall. "If there is one thing I can't stand it's being double crossed…"
"But I haven't…"
"Or being lied to…"
"I'm not…"
"Who was it eh? Who offered you more than the cut you'd get from me? Was it worth it Clare," Warren's fingers tightened around the woman's slender throat making her claw at his hand and gasp for air. "Does it seem worth it now?" He breathed close into her ear before placing an unbelievably tender kiss against her cheek.
"Warren… please…" Clare choked, "Please let go…"
"We could have been good together Clare," Warren said, with almost a hint of regret in his voice, "But you had to get greedy."
Clare tried to object but she was unable to speak as Warren's strong hand squeezed harder at her throat, the cartilage and bones grinding beneath his fingers.
"Say you're sorry Clare," Warren told the woman, his grip tightening with each word until no air could get past the obstruction of his fingers. "Say you're sorry and I'll let you go…"
Clare's mouth moved but no words came out, her voice silenced by the lack of air as her strength began to leave her.
"Oh I can't hear you," Warren mocked, "So I guess that means you're not sorry about being a cheating double crossing whore… and you know what they say about whore's don't you Clare… the only good whore…"
Quickly spinning Clare around so that her back was against his chest Warren gripped the side of her head firmly and snapped it to one side with a sickening crunch before dropping the lifeless body to the floor. "… is a dead whore…"
Warren strode out of the office without so much as a backward glance, stopping at the desk of Clare's secretary and leaning over it to breathe directly into the young woman's face.
"I don't think your boss feels very well," he said very quietly, "and if you remember I was ever here neither will you!"
