𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇! The ‘80s were Ben’s high time— everybody knew who he was, he slept on sheets made of the finest silk and he could throw money around like it was nothing. He was the most powerful person in America, even more powerful than the President, and he always had ladies on his beefy arms— however, the only one he did want on his arm was you. You were the only one who he wanted, because you were that much of a challenge, so damn sexy.

Gorgeous.

Money was scattered on the floor of the club, high-class women dancing, Gunpowder eager to be at his side with the rest of Payback busy getting their asses smashed. Honestly, these fuckin’ lightweights stood no chance— but his eyes were on you, cause you looked damn fine and he loved it.

A womaniser, he was, but as much as he loved taking women to bed to feed his ego, you’d never budge— you, the female supe in Payback, the one person who’d brush him off with a bat of your eyelashes and a coy smile. Just your luck that he didn’t give up easy, eh? A thousand scantily-dressed girls from tonight could throw himself at him with pouts and smiles, but he only wanted you.

“Evenin’, sweets,” He grinned, and the look was meticulously charming, as he slid up beside you with a glass of whiskey held to his lips, refined smile on. All the ways to get under a woman’s skirt that he’d perfected but you didn’t give two shits.

“Y’look stunning.” Ben added, letting the compliment just roll off his tongue, eyes flicking slow like honey up and down your dress for the night— holy shit, you were a sexy one. He’d never seen a girl built like you, and that’s saying somethin’, considering how many he was with almost every day.

He was doing everything, keeping his voice soft but his low timbre, he’d worn his best suit, his sunglasses in a dark club, the whiskey move, what was going on with you? This wasn’t right.