Disclaimer: This story and all its contents are 100% mine. Any resemblance to other stories is purely coincidental. I have no association whatsoever with Mercedes or Harry Potter.

Summary: It was simple. Her mission was to kidnap James. His was, obviously, to escape unharmed – not to fall for her! Nothing is ever black and white. So, what secrets are they hiding from each other?

I know I haven't yet finished my first story, Destiny or Luck?, but this has been on my mind for so long that I had to get it out of my head… Please review and tell me what you think of it! I'd be eternally grateful! Also, a warning – this story contains coarse language.

I have only corrected some of the spelling mistakes here… nothing has changed. =) If I've missed some (which I think I did), please tell me.


A Life of Deceit – Chapter one.


I slowed my car into a crawl. My eyes quickly swept past the elegant, three storey mansion that stood to my right. Situated in front of the magnificent castle was a water fountain, featuring two lovers dancing wistfully. Everything was in perfect order: from the soft looking lawn to the very last shrub that stood at the property's edge. Scowling at the enormous, but beautiful, grounds like it's my mortal enemy, I quietly drove past, stopping a few blocks from my intended destination.

Stepping out of my glossy black car, I checked my attire. My soft, black hair was loosely pinned up, giving it the illusion that it is flowing and slightly wavy. Bareback black halter-neck, a knee-length black layered skirt that flares out slightly at the edges, teamed with sophisticated black high heels and a small black purse. Black is my colour.

I could pull off anything when I am dressed like this – and I knew it.

There was not a living soul or car on the street. The midday sun sat high up in the cloudless sky and the air was still. There was not a hint of life here. Even with all the manors that lined the street, it still held an eerie feeling. I shrugged it away and continued with my mission. It had to be done. I cannot fail: it was too important.

Walking toward the direction of my target mansion, I deliberately walked two blocks further before looking back. Waiting in the shade until the garage door opened. While a silver Mercedes slowly pulled out of the driveway, I assumed a slow stroll down the sidewalk, making sure I accentuate the movement of my hips. Just as I was close enough to be visible from the driveway, I let out a cry of pain and feigned a fall, landing awkwardly, using my hands to break the fall.

Painstakingly, I sat in that uncomfortable position and stretched out an arm, wincing as I made contact with my ankle. Upon hearing a car door slam not far ahead, I bit back a smile. I tended my perfectly fine ankle until a pair of shiny black shoes appeared under my nose. Looking up, the sun's glare prevented me from seeing the man's face. He bent down next to me, placing a hand on my forearm. Concerned, a deep and rich voice inquired, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine…" then acting as if a jab of pain ran up my leg, I gasped, "No. Actually, I think I may have rolled on my ankle."

"My house is just right here, would you like to come in while I call someone up to assist you?" His voice was calming and would have lulled me to sleep if I wasn't concentrating hard enough.

"No. I don't want to trouble you – you're obviously on your way out. Please, if you could just take me back to my car, which is just parked a few blocks away, I would really appreciate it." I struggled to get up. High heel shoes were wonderful tools – it's practically impossible to walk in three-inches high heels... if you're an amateur. If you were a professional, like me, you can walk in anything.

"Are you sure? It wouldn't be any trouble at all. I would be glad to help. Please, it looks extremely painful." Being a gentleman, he placed both hands at my sides, aiming to steady me while I tried to stand with my full weight on one leg.

I nodded, "Really, I'll be fine. Please just walk me back to my car?"

"No problem. By the way, my name is Jamie Weston." He draped my arm over his shoulder, allowing me to lean on him as we staggered (correction, as I staggered) towards my car.

"Alex. Alex Potter." I was reading Harry Potter last night – could you really blame me if the first family name I could think of was Potter?

"Nice meeting you, Alex." At this, the corners of his lips lifted slightly. "Though it would definitely be more pleasant if I didn't meet you in this way."

"Well, it's not like we really have a say on what destiny brings us, hey?" I replied good-naturedly.

The plan was working like a charm – but it wasn't over yet.

During that little time, I stole a look at my 'rescuer'. I nearly tripped over my own foot when I saw him. He was breathtaking. Wavy brown hair that occasionally covered his chocolate coloured eyes. Jamie's skin was naturally dark, and now bronze from the times he recently spent in the sun. He was what I would call tall, dark and handsome – everything that I would want physically from a man. I quickly shook that mental image from my mind. I wasn't here to flirt! I was on a mission for crying out loud!

My gorgeous automobile was getting closer and closer. Another two steps and I would be within reach of it. My purse was in the hand that draped over his shoulder and as soon as he leaned me against the body of the car, I slowly untangled myself from him. He was standing awfully close and his hands now rested on either side of my hips. Unconsciously, I took in his scent: soft and gentle, yet unmistakably masculine. Afraid I would drown in this heavenly smell, I pulled away with a smile.

"Thank you Mr Weston. You've been a great help." I bent down and reached up my skirt as I said this. His brows furrowed together and did not know what to make of my unusual actions. Pulling out a compact, shiny, black gun, I pointed it to his chest. With a satisfied smile, I said, "I would love for you to get back to your own business, but it seems like my gun has another thing in mind."

His reaction was just as I had expected it to be – eyes wide with disbelief, mouth slightly open, forming an 'o', slowly edging away from my deadly black instrument.

"I wouldn't move another inch if I were you, Mr Weston. You don't know how many bullets I have in here, and believe me, you wouldn't want to know." I said snidely.

All movements ceased immediately. He was too predictable.

"Now, I'm going to present you with two alternatives. One, you get yourself settled in this gorgeous car of mine; or two, I blow holes into you so fast that you won't be able to scream for help."

"What… what is this for? If it's money you're after, I've got plenty and you can have it all. Please, just… don't shoot!" He raised his arms in surrender.

"Money? You think this is about money? You are despicable, Mr Weston." Giving him a look of pure venom, my gun never wavering, "Didn't anyone teach you money doesn't buy happiness? You think you could toy with people's lives if you are rich? You are… Just get in the car." I was fuming. How dare he? How could he be superficial enough to think I'm after his money?

He complied obediently and I quickly slipped in the driver's seat, central locking my two-door baby. Turning the key in the ignition, I warned the man seated next to me, "Mr Weston, if you do so much as to think of escaping, know that I can find you and have you down in a matter of seconds. Do consider yourself warned." He merely nodded. I nearly snorted – for such a lean, but muscular, man, he certainly has zero guts.

Soon, I found myself driving along the highway, checking the rear mirror every so often to make sure we weren't being followed. So far so good: no one seemed to be aware of his absence – yet. The atmosphere inside the car wasn't what I would call comfortable. The stereo had remained switched off ever since we boarded the car – I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by music or anything that was on the radio. Talking to the only other person in the car would be absurd: I kidnapped him in front of his own home for goodness's sake! However, that didn't mean he didn't try though…

James Weston: "Where are we going?"

Me: "None of your business."

James Weston: "…pause… Nice car."

Me: "Yeah, I know."

James Weston: "…pause… Are you going to kill me?"

Me: "If you don't shut up, I will."

That effectively cut off any further conversation starters he had in mind. So yes, it would be rather accurate to call our current situation as rather strained.


End of chapter one


Oh and if you haven't read my other story, "Destiny or Luck?", and you've got nothing better to do, please consider reading it! =)

Please review!