Bandit Bound: A Bad Boy Romance Novel (2 page)

Two new customers passed by, an older woman that wanted to put her cash savings into a new account, which was easy enough. Another was a skeptical young man who seemed to not trust banks much, questioning their security. He did not end up getting an account but said he'd think about it in the future. Savannah was drifting off into a daydream about vacationing on some tropical island when a loud voice boomed in the distance.

"You idiot!" it hollered in a furious tone.

Savannah stood on her feet quickly and paced herself out of the small pseudo-office (which was more of an elaborate cubicle than anything) into the main lobby.

She saw Chad, red-faced, standing closely to Stan the janitor (or "Stan the Man" as many of the employees affectionately referred to the elderly gentleman).

"Are you so stupid that you can't follow one single instruction?" he asked loudly in front a crowd of shocked customers.

"Chad," Savannah hissed at him from behind.
What the hell does he think he's doing?
she thought.

"You can bet your goddamn ass that I'm reporting you to the supervisor, you incompetent old moron!" he added. Chad seemed to gain some sense back and he looked around him and saw all of the shocked, scared faces. His red face went from rage to embarrassment and he soon saw himself out the front door.

"I'm so sorry about that everyone," Savannah said, hoping that some kind of explanation would come to her as she said sorry. None did. "I, um, uh. Stan, can you come see me in my office please?"

Stan, who looked frustrated, hurt and embarrassed, nodded his head. "Sure," he said meekly as he headed toward Savannah's office. The cold dusty air felt more suffocating than ever.

Is this the place where I'm going to spend the rest of my life?
Savannah thought. The idea sent a chill down her spine and a bud of rebellion started to bloom in her heart. She turned around, seeing that Stan was following her, and sat back in her leather chair which, despite its cushiness, felt like an electric chair.

Stan entered the office and looked backward. Most people seemed to have gone on about their business. A few customers had simply left their lines and the entire building. Some were still sneaking glances at Savannah's office every few seconds, pretending not to be interested in between the peeks.

Savannah considered asking Stan to close the door behind him before realizing that there was no door to close. She prepared for a hushed talk so that none of the customers would be able to overhear.

"Stan, what was that all about?" she asked with genuine concern.

"Well, I was just washin' the washroom, havin' a chat with the plumber boys, and Chad comes in all red in the face hootin' and hollerin' at me about security this or something or another," he began a little too loudly.

"That's it?" she interjected before he could continue. "He was mad at you because you, the janitor, were in the washroom?" Savannah was shocked at her own words.

"That's right," Stan said proudly, clearly seeing that Savannah was on his side in the situation.

"Did he tell you not to go in there?" she asked.

"Not at all, miss," he answered. "If he did, well, I wouldn't'a been in there in the darn old first place!" he exclaimed.

"Are you sure he didn't say anything to you?" she asked again a little skeptically.

"Uh huh," Stan replied, certain of himself.

"Because he
did
tell me not to go in there," Savannah said.

"Well he doesn't ever say nothin' to me anyhow, and then he gets mad at me when I do something wrong. No offense to him, but the guy's a bit of an a-hole, ain't he?"

Savannah's eyes widened at the much too loud declaration of a fellow employee as an asshole and made a finger-to-lips shushing gesture to Stan.

"Sorry," he said in a hushed tone.

"It's okay, I just don't want the customers to hear," she responded with the utmost empathy. "And yes, he is an asshole," she added in a very quiet whisper.

Stan let out a little chuckle.

"So, I'm not in trouble, am I?" Stan asked. Savannah's heart sank.

"I don't think so," she answered. She was not confident in that answer, though. Chad's sister was the manager of the entire branch of the bank. In fact, that's how Chad got a job at all. It was much more likely that Stan would be on the short end of the stick after this altercation than Chad. "If anything happens, though, I'm on your side and I'll stick up for you, okay?" she added.

"Thanks a bunch," he said with a big smile. His dentures lightly popped out and his gums wiggled from the exertion of such a smile.

Savannah's heart warmed and cracked at the same time.

"No problem. Now get back to work, Stan the Man!" she cheered.

Stan continued to hold his huge smile, turned around and walked out. Just as he was leaving the door he turned around and said: "Thanks again." Savannah smiled in response and Stan left.

As Stan's silhouette veered off to the left, he uncovered someone else who had been standing right behind him the whole time.

Holy hell,
Savannah thought. The ice-cold dry building all of a sudden became hot and humid.

He stood about six foot two inches, maybe just half an inch shorter than Stan who had managed to cover him perfectly with his baggy clothes and medium length hair. He was well-dressed; freshly polished leather shoes held their ground and a tailor made suit perfectly hugged a well-built--no, stacked--body. His hair was black and spiked. A pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses hung alongside his black tie. He carried a brown leather suitcase at his left side.

He stared into Savannah's eyes intensely like a lion tracking its prey. His bright blue eyes seemed to pin her down in her chair merely with their gaze. Savannah sat in her chair staring at him, mouth slightly agape as her appetite whetted. She instinctively licked her lips as she freely ogled the perfect specimen that stood before her.

"Hello? Are you Savannah?" he asked.

Savannah did not reply but continued to stare freely, as if she were at a museum looking at some sculpture made by the ancient masters.

"You done staring?" he asked with a blend of cruelty and humor.

"I'm so sorry," Savannah said as she snapped out of her hypnosis. "It's just so hot in here," she added.

"It's like forty degrees in here," he said skeptically. "You alright?" he asked after receiving no response. A few seconds passed by.

"Oh?" was all she responded with.

"Oh? Maybe I should come back another time," the man said. He looked at her with pity.

"No no no no no," Savannah answered with panic clearly in her voice. "I'm sorry, I'm just having a really hectic day, come in, come in, please," she continued in a hurry. The man raised an eyebrow at her, hesitated, and started to walk into the office cubicle.

"You filling in for somebody or something?" he asked.
What an asshole question to ask
, Savannah thought.
But shit, he's right, sort of.

"Kind of," she replied, not wanting to offend him any further.

"Kind of?" he asked like a police officer in an interrogation.

"Yeah, kind of," Savannah said, mostly ignoring what he was saying and staring deeply into his beautiful eyes.

"You know, it's a shame what pretty girls get away with without using their heads much," the man replied with a deadly serious tone.

"Excuse me?" Savannah asked, shocked at the insult.
Well, he did call me pretty
, she thought excitedly.
But still, that's so rude.

"See what I mean?" he answered, this time smiling and shaking his head.

"That's pretty insulting," she answered as she finally got a grasp on her own thoughts.

"It's just a joke," he said and flashed a disarming smile at Savannah. It worked, but only partially.

I'm too proud to let this asshole bring me down, even if he may be the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life,
Savannah thought.

"Very funny. I'm laughing on the inside," she answered. The man frowned briefly and opened his mouth to speak, but Savannah interrupted. "So, how can I help you today?"

"Well," he began.

"Sorry, what's your name again?" Savannah interjected, giving a certain tone to the question so as to make it seem like he was not important or significant.

"Vincent," he said with a burning, electric look in his blue eyes that pierced Savannah with a wildness she'd never seen before. She paused for a moment just from that look, back on the defensive.

"It's great to meet you, Vincent. I'm Savannah and I'm going to help you with whatever you want today." It was her attempt to sound professional and accommodating but she couldn't help but notice the implied sexual connotation in her sentence. Vincent noticed as well, giving the smallest wry smile in response.

"What service," he replied calmly.
It's like raw sex radiates from his every pore
, Savannah thought to herself as her body tensed up in excitement next to him once again.

"Anyways," Savannah said, trying to shift the conversation from the clear sexual overtone that had dominated it from the get-go. "Is there an account you were looking to open up with us today?"

There was a long pause as the two stared at each other. Despite not saying a word to one another, their eyes danced a sort of duel. Small glances back and forth revealed each other's thoughts, but no words were said about it.

"I'd definitely like to open one up," Vincent responded with a sort of low-toned sensuality.

Savannah hid her blush by lowering her eyes and leaning her head down, looking at her feet that squirmed in her business-casual flat tops.
What's he doing to me?
She thought.

"Sorry?" she responded foolishly.

"I. Would. Like. To. Open. Up. An. Account," Vincent responded in the most condescending tone possible. Savannah made a shocked face at him for his petulant rudeness.

"I understand, there's no need to speak to me like that," she quickly answered with an offended voice.

"Well, you did ask," Vincent responded smugly. He looked her up and down as if he were inspecting someone for evidence of something.

"Anyways," Savannah said once more, again trying to shift the conversation back to more business-oriented talk. "There is a minimum fee that we charge for opening up an account here." She said it in an attempt to minimize him or to make him feel like he was out of his league. Yet, she knew deep down that he was the one out of her league; his perfectly tailored and hand designed clothes displayed that he had wealth not only beyond hers but beyond practically all of the people working at the bank.

"Yes, Savannah, I'm very aware," Vincent answered.

Savannah was surprised at first that he knew her name. She was on the verge of asking him how he knew her name before she realized that she had just told him a moment ago. The blood rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment as she stumbled over her words in front of the gorgeous charming man.

"Ah, that's, good," she said, stumbling over her words.

Vincent leaned over the table and her heart rate began to skyrocket. He touched her lightly on the top of her wrist with a strong hand that was calloused, suggesting a life of hard labor work that betrayed the image he presented.

"Anyhow," Vincent said with a friendly venom if a friendly venom ever existed. "I would like to hear about your options on high-interest savings accounts," he continued with a confidence that betrayed his seeming ignorance on the topic. He didn't seem to know much at all about banking really, but he spoke with a particular pride that made it seem as if he knew everything there was to know.

Savannah eyed him down for a few moments, admiring his chiseled body that prodded through his well-fitting clothes. Vincent jostled in his seat for a moment and scratched at his neck lightly, but in this moment, Savannah noticed the outline of a tattoo that rode up just around his shoulder.

What's a guy like this doing here anyways?
She thought.

"Of course," she answered with a newfound confidence. Seeing the outline of his tattoo made her feel a little bit superior to him, even if it was an extremely shallow thing to feel superior over someone over. She needed whatever she could get, though.