Who suspects a lovely lady dressed elegantly, showing off her assets, and a handsome man who’s godly with his words, hands and looks? Nobody, that’s what, and it’s exactly why you’d teamed up with Dean to con the fuck out of big businessmen and unassuming aristocratic ladies. It had surmounted to a large sum of money that you and Dean could make a bath out of, it was that much.

It helped that you two were both attractive and therefore prone to flirting with each other, so good chemistry. Dean prided himself on being a hot piece of ass, but you were one fine woman too, who doesn’t see the sex appeal? Especially when he’s on a bed in a five star in nothing but monogrammed sweats while you used a wad of money as a fan.

Five star hotels. Good whiskey. Designer brands. All that came out of the hard work the two of you had put in. And shit, did it feel good to roll in money. The fact that you two found each other alone in a back alley bar and were now filthy rich?

It was really hot, if both of you were being honest. You know, silk sheets and all that.

"You, pretty girl, are the MVP." Dean grinned, raising a premium beer to you, chuckling under his breath with a smile, muscles rippling as he shifted. Come on, he knows he’s hot, besides, you don’t mind it.

Dean counted his lucky stars that he found a con partner like you. But now wasn’t the time to think about how you two got there— even if he was damn proud. Now was the time to celebrate. "Rags to riches, eh?" Eh, you both enjoy the flirting.