A/N: Hey guys! Back with the first update of the year! I really like this one so hope you do too!
Fundraisers are the perfect place for someone like him. Entitled rich people raising money for some entitled rich thing, ready to show their "philanthropy" by giving to "those in need."
This time, it's a tennis court.
Covered, of course, because even a little sun can be too much for some of the ladies looking mostly to cause a show if given the opportunity.
He straightens his suit jacket before entering, eyes immediately scanning the room to get a read on the ones who look most ready to "donate," specifically, a disappointed mother.
Clean-shaven and clad in dark jeans and a nice, but unassuming, button up under the suit jacket, he looks exactly like a young investor trying to raise some money for a children's orphanage.
Drifting towards one of the waiters to the left, he takes a glass of lemonade, just to almost spill it on the woman standing beside him when he turns around.
"Oh I'm so sorry! It didn't spill on you did it?" He's all knit eyebrows and stumbling over words and the woman (who he had not spilled anything on), softens upon that realization, her eyes scanning over him.
"Oh don't worry, no harm done at all."
He keeps his posture just slightly slack as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up just enough to make the next apology feel genuine.
"Thank god, I am sorry about bumping into you though. I'm a little bit of a klutz, I'm afraid."
The woman is now smiling, clearly charmed by his boyish manner, and if he's right—
"No worries," she holds out a hand. "I'm Melinda Dervey."
He's right.
"Peter, Peter Johnson, pleased to make your acquaintance." He smiles back, then almost as an afterthought, adds, "though I'm sure I could have gone about it a better way."
Melinda laughs lightly as they walk, he stays just a tad behind so as to follow her lead.
"Johnson? I'm not sure I've heard of you."
He straightens his back. "Oh I'm an investor, just started a few years back actually and it's going well but don't worry," he pauses to send a quick wink her way, "I won't bore you with stocks and all that."
Melinda laughs again, stopping at the table she had been sitting at. "Oh good, I'm not good with all that, my husband on the other hand…Chris? Have you heard of him?"
Christopher Dervey has a hand in a bunch of business deals…yet is still financed by his dearly departed late father.
"Oh yes," he nods enthusiastically, "a brilliant businessman. I'll have to meet him, maybe he can give me a few tips?"
"I'm sure he'd love to."
Yes, he thinks, spotting Christopher across the room talking loudly to a group of men in suits. He'd love that.
"Always good when young people can recognize there's things to be learned from people with more experience," Melinda continues.
He almost feels sorry for David. Clearly not present in today's festivities, the perfect black sheep son who hates his father and can't stand his mother, is being targeted in not so many words.
"Oh of course!" he rushes to agree. "I'm always trying to learn!"
It's a direct jab at David's recent dropping out of college stint that is still mostly hushed up. He almost feels bad for using David like this, but something tells him David's better off paving his own path.
Something in Melinda's eyes changes and he knows he's hit a soft spot. "Are you out here to learn then? Or invest?"
He shrugs, letting out a half-grin. "Actually, I'm hoping to raise a little money of my own…see one of my clients is involved in a children's orphanage and asked if I could help." He holds out his hand helplessly.
"Now I can't say no to that can I? So here I am, hoping this fundraiser might also help the kids along with the new club."
"Oh! How good of you!"
"Who's this Melinda?" Another voice speaks up and the other woman at the table rises up.
"Sheryl this is Peter, we were just talking about why he's here."
"Looks like a no-good scammer to me."
Sheryl is the exact opposite of the kind of person he's looking for today. His eyes widen and he scrunches into himself just a little bit.
Melinda, in all good motherly faith, turns to her friend with a loud gasp. "Sheryl!"
Sheryl is sipping on her third margarita, going off the glasses on the table, and just shrugs.
"Oh, it's okay," he speaks up. "I guess she's not wrong." He lets out a small laugh. "But if it's for a children's orphanage, I think it should be allowed."
Melinda's eyes soften again. "I agree," she laughs along.
Sheryl, clearly refusing to apologize, shrugs again and sits back down. Melinda's face turns a little red at the sight of the glasses and turns to him quickly. "You know what, let me give you a little something to get your fundraiser started."
Immediately he holds up his hands in protest. "Oh no, you don't have to! After all, I'm the one who bumped into you."
"Nonsense, for the children, right?"
"I suppose, if…if you're sure." He shrugs a little helplessly as she reaches into her purse.
"Who do I make it out to?"
She's holding out her checkbook.
"Grover Underwood, he's the director of the place. You can put the name in the memo if you want, it's for the Camp Half-Blood Orphanage."
"You're honestly too kind Mrs. Dervey," he adds as she starts writing.
She hands him the check, and he glances at the amount. Eyes wide, he lets out a small gasp.
"You're too kind! This is…the kids will…" he stutters over his words and Melinda is clearly amused by the reaction.
"You know Peter, I feel better knowing it's going to them." Melinda smiles again.
"Thank you again," he says fervently, grasping her hand.
"Of course!"
"Agh!" Sheryl speaks up, announcing her distain. But before she can continue the lovely line of thought, Melinda cuts her off.
"Peter you should talk to my husband, about all the stock stuff you were talking about." It's a bit rushed and he can tell she wants him to leave.
He takes the bait. "Oh yes, where…" he drifts off, scanning the room again as if trying to find said husband. He's actually searching for one Elizabeth White when his eye catches on something else instead.
Blonde hair, tumbling down in curls, as she laughs at something someone is saying.
"…left." Melinda is saying something, but he barely registers it.
"Ah, I see, thank you," he finds himself replying, tearing his eyes away from the blonde-haired girl.
Melinda flashes him another smile and he thanks her again before he steps away. The look on her face when she turns to her drunk friend reminds him why he'd chosen her.
A nice woman ready to give money to orphaned children after she'd nearly orphaned her own son for painting his nails because it didn't fit their "image".
He'd been thrown out of their house—mansion—for a month.
Suffice to say, he's on David's side simply because at least David knows what it's like to sleep on a friend's couch.
As if his eyes remembered the important task they were doing before Melinda interrupted them, he turns once again to find the blonde-haired woman to the right. She's hunched a little shyly as she listens to the man beside her.
Said man isn't paying much attention to his companion, clearly focused on talking about himself, glancing over now and again to make sure she's as raptured as before. He watches the girl as the man turns towards a group of people, undoubtedly talking about one of them now.
It's a split-second thing but he swears she just rolled her shoulders back, before resuming her shy, hunched position.
He has to do a double take, but there she is, standing just as she had been. Did he see right?
Two men approach the couple, and he loses sight of her for a few seconds until she leaves the group heading straight for a waiter with some drinks.
Of all the crazy things he's done, this might be the dumbest. He doesn't know what compels him to beeline towards her.
He doesn't even know who she is. She's definitely not on his premeditated list of people, and yet there's something about her that just makes his feet move.
"Hi." Even the word slips out before he means it too.
She turns, clearly surprised by his appearance. "Hi."
Great, now what?
Thankfully, thinking on the fly is a skill he's learned, and the swell of music is the perfect excuse. "Would you like to dance?"
Only a few people are out on the dance floor but it's enough to be acceptable. He watches her glance to the dance floor and back at him, taking in his appearance.
She's going to say no. He can just tell. But then her eyes snap up to properly meet his for the first time and they're a startling grey.
"Okay."
Despite being the one that offered, he's more taken back by the acceptance than he should be. Pulling himself together, he offers his hand to lead her to the dance floor.
His heart beats a little faster when she accepts, her hand fitting a little bit too well in his.
The dance floor is a good distraction. Taking both of her hands in his, he leans back to pull her closer, then back again, letting go so she spins.
"What's your name?" she asks, as her hand lands on his shoulder.
"Pe—Peter." He doesn't know why he hesitated. He's never hesitated before.
His heart thumping a little too loudly again, he tries to focus on spinning her. "What's your name?"
"Amelia."
He doesn't know why that sounds wrong. But it's not his place to tell people what their names should be.
The music slows and she comes to rest her hands on his shoulders. He keeps his hands on her waist and prays she can't feel his heart.
"It's nice to meet you Amelia."
Her grey eyes graze over his face curiously.
"Why did you ask me to dance with you?"
The question seems to surprise her a little too, because she immediately walks it back. "I didn't mean—"
"I'm not sure." He interrupts.
It's the most honest thing he's said all day.
He doesn't know what is going on with him, but he really needs to pull it together. Straightening a little, he brings back the half smile from earlier. "Guess I saw a beautiful girl who might like to dance."
He knows right away that his charm has zero effect on her. He knows the type and just hopes that she doesn't walk away right then and there.
But she's looking at him with that same curious look in her eyes.
"What do you do Peter?"
He has to clear his throat before answering. "I'm an investor."
"What do you invest in?"
And there's a sharpness behind the grey now. He's once again being assessed.
"Anything I can," he replies candidly. "What about you, Amelia?"
He doesn't think the shift goes unnoticed by her.
"I'm here with Liam Callahan."
The fact that she didn't answer the question doesn't go unnoticed by him.
Liam must be the guy she was with earlier, the one absorbed with his own world. He doesn't know how that's possible when someone like her is right there.
"I hope I haven't taken you away from your date."
She smiles, it's a small smile, but it's unfairly pretty. "No, it's okay. Thanks for the dance."
He nods, stepping back and offering his hand again to lead her off the dance floor.
They've just reached the table and as he's dropping her hand, a voice speaks up.
"There you are! I was wondering where you'd gone off too."
Liam Callahan has announced his presence. "I wanted to tell you about Tom…who's this?"
Apparently just now seeing him, Liam turns, disdainful eyes taking in his modest appearance.
"Hello. Peter, it's nice to meet you." He holds out a hand for the sake of politeness, but Liam doesn't shake it.
"And who are you?" Liam sneers, taking a step closer to Amelia.
This guy is grating ever nerve he has. Not only is he a rude asshole, but only noticing Amelia because she was with someone else? He has to refrain from saying something he really shouldn't say.
"Nobody really, I was just leaving."
He needs to make it out of here with the check in his pocket still intact.
Shooting a last smile to Amelia, he walks away under Liam's glare. He should stay longer, go talk to more people, at least hit one other person on his list.
But something about what just happened has him pissed off and there's no way he can pull off another one in this mood.
He finds himself walking out from under the tent. He doesn't know Amelia that well, clearly, but to be treated like that by that douche Liam? That would piss any normal person with morals. He's also not sure why he even asked her to dance in the first place. As a rule, he tries not to veer off targets, and though she looks well off, there's something about her that feels…different.
Taking the check out he looks at the number, fifty thousand dollars. Not bad. Could be way more given the fact that Melinda has entirely too much money, but he'll take it.
"Hey!" A voice calls out and he pockets the check quickly before turning around.
"Amelia?" The last person he thought he'd see again.
"Hi." She gives him a breathless smile. "I just wanted to say thank you."
She's a little flushed, curly blonde hair mussed from her quick pace to catch up with him. It's more charming than it should be as she flashes him another shy smile.
"Thank you?" he repeats, suddenly hyper aware of her movements as she carefully tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Well Liam got pretty mad, and basically…it's done. So, I wanted to thank you for the dance."
At the end of her sentence her eyes betray her shy stance, a clearness passing over for a second, before she looks down.
Is he…
"Of course. Though I didn't realize the dance would cause such a scene." He's prompting her, curious to see what's going to come of this.
She waves the comment aside, hair moving just enough for him to see glimmering diamond earrings for a split second.
"It's good, he wasn't that good to me I'm realizing now."
Her face scrunches in an adorably cute way, as if she's truly just now coming to this conclusion.
Wow. He is.
He is most definitely being charmed right now. It's fascinating to see from the other end.
Trying to maintain his composure, he smiles back. "No, it doesn't seem like he was."
Despite controlling his face, something about his realization must slip through, because immediately she takes a step back, eyes guarded.
Somehow, she knows that he knows. It's clearly something she isn't expecting, and he doesn't blame her. The pout would have had anyone head over heels.
He's just good at paying attention.
A curious smile spreads over her face after a second as her posture normalizes. The next words out of her mouth are the most candid he's heard yet.
"Yeah, he was pretty bad."
The sunlight catches her earring for a second and he doesn't know why he lets himself say what he does. "Those are nice earrings."
Immediately, her eyes narrow, as the curious smile on her face grows.
"Thank you," she replies.
Neither of them mention who gave them to her.
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a business card. "Peter Johnson, here's my card if you ever want to get into investing."
There's a second where she doesn't respond, and he wonders if he's actually managed to read this wrong and mess things up with her.
But then she takes it, letting her fingers brush against his. "I definitely will," she promises, charm back on with the way she smiles at him.
He shouldn't believe her, but he wants so desperately for her to actually keep the promise.
It's not till she walks away with a small wave does he realize just how hard his heart has been beating this whole time. His mind still hasn't fully processed it.
Speed walking to his car, he lets himself slump forward the moment he sits inside. What just happened?
Running his hands over his face, he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he closes his eyes. He realizes he's fucked the moment Amelia's face flashes in his mind.
-.-
She takes the earrings off the moment she sits down in her car. Putting them in a small velvet bag she then puts in her purse. The less used they are the more she can get out of them.
Peter's words burn in her ears. "Those are nice earrings."
He definitely knew. There had been no judgement in his tone, just a flicker of amusement. It had been the only solace to her quick heartbeat.
The black lettering of his card gleams in the light as she holds it up.
Peter Johnson.
A thoroughly unsatisfying name to such an interesting person. And if he's anything like her, and she's pretty sure he is, it's a façade.
He intrigues her more than any other person she's met.
Dropping the card in her cup holder, she starts to drive, thankful that this Liam business is over. All in all, it had been pretty successful. She honestly could have kept going.
Liam, like most men, just needed a small suggestion for him to take over an idea as his own and act upon it with so much conviction it's like he'd been born to do it.
All she really had to do was lean forward in attention to look hopelessly in love with him and he ate it up. Men like Liam, she's learned, are the easiest to "love."
She'd gotten earrings, a necklace, another necklace, and some Louis Vuitton, all in all totaling to a pretty hefty sum.
And all it had taken was a quiet, "so you want me to leave?" from her while he was fuming for him to adopt the idea of breaking up with her as his own and send her on her way.
Peter had been the perfect instigator. It had been time to end it anyway, before things got ugly.
Not that Liam is the kind of man to admit to being used, she just likes being careful.
But her carefulness had slipped with Peter. He'd seen right through her, made her heart quicken like she was on her first con ever.
Stopping at a red light, she glances at the number on the card.
It's tempting, she thinks back to the neat black hair and astonishingly green eyes, really tempting.
-.-
"Twenty-five thousand, cash." Grover hands him the money. "You know you can keep more of this one. You've given hundreds of thousands over the years."
Shrugging, he accepts the money, and puts it in an empty wallet he brought just for this occasion.
Grover frowns, his concern shining through.
"Percy…what happened?"
"Nothing."
He might be a damn good conman but Grover has been able to see through him since he was eleven.
"It's less then what you normally get. Not that I'm complaining. Camp Half-Blood is so successful because of you helping out, but something is up."
"I met this girl."
He can see Grover trying to piece it together. "The one who gave you the fifty thousand?"
He shakes his head, leaning back in the chair. "No, that was a disappointed mother."
Grover nods in understanding. "That makes more sense, that's your usual target for Camp. So, who's this girl?"
Sighing he runs a hand through his hair as Amelia's blonde hair and grey eyes flash before him again. As if she'd ever left his memory.
"I don't know."
Grover simply raises an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
"I really don't. But…" he pauses, saying out loud for the first time the thought that's been rolling around in his head. "I think she's like me."
"What?" Grover turns to him, surprise evident in his eyes.
"She was there with a guy, they broke up, and she walked away with a nice pair of diamond earrings."
"Ah…."
There's a silence between them as he sips on some sweet tea, looking down the hill with the different cabins providing housing for the kids at the orphanage. The new and improved playground and climbing wall, are a bright spot of color against the landscape.
Grover follows his line of sight. "They love it, thanks to you."
Percy shrugs, standing up. "I should get going."
Grover stands up with him, reaching in his bag to pull out the other twenty-five thousand in cash. "Take it, you've given a lot, we're okay."
Percy shakes his head, eyes wandering to the gate by the trees, remembering the rainy night he'd ended up there.
"Keep it for the kids."
-.-
Percy hasn't been waiting by the phone. But he's been carrying around the burner everywhere just in case she does call.
It's unfair, he thinks, as he looks over his appearance in the mirror, that she takes up so much real estate in his mind. It's been three weeks, he needs to give up hope.
He runs a gelled hand through his hair, messing it up the perfect amount, and steps back. He's got a five o'clock shadow and a tight white button down this time. He slips on a Rolex to complete the look.
There's a party, if you will, at an upscale club. And this time he's looking for the single ones, it's going to be a longer game.
Gathering his wallet, keys and phone, he glances at the burner. He needs to leave it, but it takes an embarrassing amount of will power to do.
It's a rooftop bar and he situates himself by the drinks. There's a good amount of younger people, but he needs old money. The kind that won't speak if they lose it.
His eyes finally narrow down on a lady standing by two others. She's got long auburn hair and has looked over at him three times already. She turns away quickly when she realizes he's noticed her, so he sends the most charming smile her way.
If he's not wrong, that might be Caitlin Grayson. Exactly the kind of person he's looking for. Picking up his drink, he starts to walk over to the group when laughter interrupts him.
Turning around to find the source he sees, none other than, the same head of blonde hair that had caught his attention three weeks ago.
But she's not the quiet shy girl he last saw. Wearing a tight red club dress and heels, she's flirting openly with the guy next to her with red lips pulled back in a smile.
Fuck. She looks hotter than should be allowed.
The man is clearly just as infatuated and doesn't realize that her deft hands have just grabbed his wallet. Keeping her eyes on him, she must pull something out because a second later she's laughing against him again and he sees her hand slip the wallet back.
Playing it safe. He can't help but admire the whole thing.
Amelia turns around, eyes wandering in his direction. He knows she's spotted him when she smiles.
He takes it as an invitation to come closer. Her eyes continue to track his movements, raking down his body to take in his appearance.
When he does reach her, her eyes are darker than he's ever seen.
"Hey," she says in a downright sexy voice.
"Hey." He tries to remember how to breathe.
The man she's with is clearly annoyed at this development.
"Ava, who's this?"
She doesn't even turn back to the man. "Oh, an old friend. I didn't expect to see you here!" She directs the last part towards him, moving closer and closer to him in the process.
"Nice to see you again Ava," he says with a smile, heartrate quickening again at her actions.
"Peter! We have to catch up!" She loops a hand through his arm and starts to lead him away. "Tell me, how's Grover?"
He almost chokes.
Her hand is tightly gripping his arm as she leads him to the dance floor and it's only because of years of practice that he doesn't actually choke.
But words are difficult, especially when she stops to face him, looping her arms around his neck. He can't keep up with anything with her like this and his brain struggles between pretending he doesn't know what she's talking about or giving in.
Something tells him that playing dumb would insult her intelligence.
"Good," he finally replies. "You know him?"
"Not really, but I figured you did since you're tied with Camp."
So, she knows about Camp. Not really a surprise. He technically "works" there for legal purposes and it just takes some deep digging to find that out. Most people just generally don't do that.
But she's careful. She would have dug deeper.
"Yeah, you know about Camp?"
He's just rephrasing what she's saying, and he knows that she knows that. But she's taking the bait, so he figures it's okay. She dances a little closer.
"Yeah, I was there for a year."
The surprise shows on his face and he lets it. She keeps talking.
"But then I joined The Hunters so…"
Of course. She's the perfect type. Skilled, smart and talented, no wonder she'd been able to dig all this up on him. The…group? School? He's not sure what umbrella they fall under, but she's making a whole lot more sense to him now.
She's also clearly telling him the truth about herself so there's also that. She trusts him, to some degree at least.
His hands tighten on her waist as she gets even closer, practically pushed up against him now.
"How much did you get off that guy?" he asks, shifting the conversation.
He'd been under the impression that he had seen her first, clearly that was not the case.
"Don't know, don't really care. It was more about getting your attention off Caitlin Grayson."
Fuck.
Her rid lips are curled up into a smirk and he's all too aware of her hands sliding to his chest.
"You have my attention," he says lowly, leaning by her ear.
She's inches away now. "Good."
"But," she adds. "Next time you give me your number Percy, make sure it's not a burner."
And with that she takes a step back, hands dropping from his chest back to her side. It's clear she's about to walk away.
Oh no, not again. She can't get the upper hand again.
He grabs her wrist and gently pulls her back, giving her an out if she wants it.
She doesn't take it, letting herself be pulled back into his arms. She fits entirely too perfectly there, wearing that beautiful red lip-sticked smile.
"I'll do you one better," he says, leaning by her ear again.
Her amused eyes take in his, before she reaches up to feel the stubble on his face. Something tells him she likes the look. "Oh?"
He doesn't respond, just pulls her in for a kiss.
-.-
"Percyyy," she whines pulling him back into bed as he attempts to sit up.
"Babe, I have to go to work," he replies, but falls back into her arms anyway.
She pouts, latching herself onto him. Eyes still stubbornly closed in an attempt at sleep. She feels the smile as his lips meet hers.
"Annabeth…"
She opens her eyes, facing the light, knowing her pupils will be wide. Knitting her eyebrows just so, she juts out her lower lip a centimeter forward.
"But Percy," she tilts her voice just so the words come out in a slightly breathless way.
Percy's eyes are dark and she has to work to keep the gloating smile off her face.
"Good to know you still have the con artist skills, but I know what you're doing…" Percy's warning trails off as she snuggles closer, burying her face in his neck and feeling his pulse quicken.
"Is it working?"
"Hell yes."
And with that he flips himself over her, bringing down his lips in a searing kiss.
With Percy in her life, she couldn't put up with a Liam even if she wanted too. Pretending to love those men and actually falling head over heels for someone is completely different.
She sees his clothes on the back of her chair and smiles as he trails kisses down her neck.
No, she's never gonna love again.
(But that doesn't mean she won't use her skills to get her boyfriend to kiss her senseless.)
A/N: A con-artist AU based loosely off cowboy like me by taylor swift? In this economy? More likely than you think! But in all seriousness, I loved writing this, it was so much fun and I love this dynamic between them.
Even though this is 4k words, it's also a callback to my earlier way of writing How We Could Have Met. The meeting, the kiss and the famous timeskip. But oh how far the writing has come lol Anyone still here from the OG days? If so, thank you for sticking around for this long!
Anyway, after the angst of the last update I thought this one could be more fluffy and cute and I hope you guys enjoyed this!
Please Review! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
And as always, thanks for reading!
See ya! :)