Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(22)

Luke lifted his tux in farewell. “Well, I hope we entertain you.” He strode down the hall, aiming for his door.

He felt, more than saw, her turn to watch him.

As the elevator doors opened and he slid his key into the lock, Holly said, “See you later, Luke Fox.”

He heard the promise in her voice and debated telling her she was now the last woman in Gotham City he’d bother letting through this door.

But he opted for ignoring her, knowing it’d rile someone of her ilk more than any insult.

He threw a glance over a shoulder at her as the elevator doors slid shut.

But she was already studying her nails again, frowning at whatever flaw she found.

A disappointment and a waste.

Gorgeous but spoiled.





Arrogant and well aware of his charm.

That’s how Selina decided she’d describe Luke Fox.

It had been disappointingly easy to deceive him. To make him believe the pathetic, spoiled words that came from her mouth. He was the same as the rest of them, who saw what they wanted to see.

And what he wanted, she’d read in about two heartbeats. Someone to entertain him.

Oh, she’d known what mark she was hitting with the Europe got boring and Why would I work? comments. Knew she was playing into what he hated, what he likely was trying to escape from so badly that a new neighbor seemed interesting, but…Selina was willing to admit she’d been hoping he’d be a little more suspicious. A little more aware that the nails and hair and non-accent were fake.

Sometimes it felt as if there were nothing left of Selina Kyle at all. As if she were well and truly gone, her body now little more than a shape-shifter’s skin. Holly’s skin. To be donned and wielded.

The thought clanged through her, hollow and cold.

None of Gotham City’s richest, in the two weeks she’d already been here, had noticed that she was an imposter, either. Show up at the right restaurants, the right fund-raisers, and the invitations pour in. Flush with foreign cash, Holly Vanderhees was well on her way to being the socialite of the season.

She wondered if the idiots would ever realize that the same parties she’d attended were ones where people had gone home to find an emerald bracelet or a Rolex missing.

But those little thefts were just to make them uneasy. Start questioning each other.

She’d learned most of the sleight of hand when she was a Leopard.

Selina still remembered that first robbery, though. Still thought of it often.

Her hands were shaking.

It was all she could think about as she sat on the park bench in the midday sunshine and monitored those passing by. How her shaking hands would get her caught. Thrown into jail.

People streamed by her, and she sorted through their faces, clothes, attitudes. Elderly people, kids, and anyone who seemed poor were instantly dismissed. She hadn’t told Mika about the rules she’d created, but she doubted the Alpha would care. As long as Selina brought back something worth selling. Something that proved she deserved a spot here.

Selina slid her trembling hands into the pocket of her ancient gray sweatshirt, her backpack on the bench beside her. She’d been sitting on this bench for an hour now—had arrived just prior to the lunchtime rush of people desperate for a few minutes of fresh air before returning to their soul-sucking jobs in the offices towering high above the small city park.

She’d get a cut of the money, Mika had told her. From whatever she stole—she’d get a cut of the money. Maybe enough to get Maggie a decent dinner. Maybe even dessert.

A man in a suit approached from beneath the towering oaks. Selina avoided the urge to sit up as he strode down the busy park walkway, his head bowed over his phone as his thumbs typed away at the screen.

Expensive-looking suit. Polished shoes. Slicked-back hair. And a total lack of interest in or fear of his surroundings.

She scanned his pants. No sign of a wallet in the front pockets, but…she noted the way one side of his suit jacket seemed to sway a little slower—heavier—with each step nearer to where she sat.

She scooped up her backpack over a shoulder, pulling out her flip phone and letting her thumbs start tapping at the buttons as she launched into a swift walk.

Right into him. Hard.

The man cursed, phone falling to the concrete, and Selina’s backpack went flying, spilling the pens and dented notebooks across the asphalt path. She let out an oomph as she hit him, clutching at him.

A beat of guilt went through her as the man twisted to steady her, opting for her well-being over that of his phone. But he only gave her a passing glance before looking to the debris now scattered before them, his phone among it.

Selina’s heart pounded so loud she was surprised he didn’t hear it as she said, “I’m so sorry—”

She pulled away from him, the wallet he’d tucked into his interior jacket pocket sliding away with her carefully positioned hand. Selina waited for him to notice the lack of weight. To notice that she’d deposited his wallet into the pouch of her sweatshirt.

But he was too busy scowling as he rushed to pick up his phone. “Watch where you’re going, moron,” he snapped as he realized his phone’s screen had splintered.

Asshole. And the way he sneered at her, noting her worn jeans, her frayed sweatshirt…He deserved to lose his wallet.

Selina maintained her feigned blinking at him as she began scooping up the contents of her bag, which she’d left half unzipped. “Sorry,” she murmured again.