Thread: Be Careful What You Wish For...  (Bludmagnus/Jaijin)

Devon Talon was a Renaissance Man in the purist sense of the word to the world at large, and he liked very much that people held that perception. By the age of thirty-six, he was an accomplished actor, author, designer, part-time musician who had won strings of awards and made a vast fortune off of his labors. He also was keenly perceptive of the market, having invested as wisely as he had worked, and had more than enough money than he could ever spend alone, though that he managed to keep hidden to a great degree from prying eyes. He also, to the amazement of those who were devoted fans of his, managed to cultivate an air of mystery by avoiding the public eye and keeping all of his private life, as well as the inside and design of his very large home, private as well. Now though, he was about to, for his own ends, allow a momentary lapse in that. It was all for his own benefit, of course, because no one would refuse him. At thirty-six, he was incredibly fit, with a lean and lithe musculature that betrayed the dancing side of his personal regimen. Dancing, aerobics, Pilates, resistance training, and martial arts all went into making him a very healthy and striking man to watch walk down the street. He new the paparazzi were following, because he had spent the time crafting that they would be. After multiple filed suits and gag-ordered settlements where they were always the losers, he had decided to throw them a bone. He was going to show himself and validate Anya's claims. He smiled, the very expensive sunglasses hiding his green eyes as he moved down the sidewalk. His car was there, just behind him where he parked the Aston Martin, and he was coming to get her to begin the real fantasy for her. His dark brown hair was simply styled, as he was one of those men that made simplicity look much more elegant than the excesses others made of things for themselves. His skin was clear and perfect, and he was frequently mistaken even by those who knew him of being much younger than he was. He soon was at the door of the library, very calm ad methodical as he went into the front door and then deliberately ducked into the Men's room and used it, talking his own sweet time as he thought to himself. Yes, he did know Anya Anderson, well enough to know that being her current name was just the start of things that she had changed about herself. He knew these lovely younger woman who now hid behind her sexy librarian glasses and claimed not to know why some of the high school and college boys flirted so intensely with her. His people had found out everything about her, from the first claim she had made about knowing him to her going to the most expensive stores in town to register. He had all the proof he needed to shatter her web of deceptions, from proof of her past to evidence she had forged his name on documents and contracts. This was leverage, something that he would only use if needed. But that was not what he was after, and as he finished washing and drying his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror and then nodded. He was ready to do this, as he had made certain everything he had put into motion was ready. He was going to make her fantasy come true... and then make his a reality. He wanted her, this Anya, because he was going to turn her into what he wanted. She had done most of it to herself already, assuming a new identity and only sporadically contacting others. He was prepared for handling her, and that was going to be the best part. He then stepped out and took a sip of water from the fountain, knowing his money had paid for the filtration the fountain used, thanks in part to a check Anya had forged and he had let go through. He always was amused at the assumption that he never would miss any or not know that some was siphoned off, which was a fallacy as he had an extremely good memory and often memorized pages at a momentary glance. He slowly walked to the desk, knowing that Anya had to be on break and possibly be telling others again of their engagement. He was wearing custom fitted jeans, similar to the ones that Chuck Norris started advertising in the Eighties that were designed for withstanding heavy movement associated with performing martial arts in them. He had on a silk shirt, a lighter shade of green than his eyes to go with the darker green of his alligator boots. He also had on a comfortable green suede jacket and he leaned slightly against the counter, knowing that he was about to make the day of about thirty different tabloids around the world. He smiled at the young college girl behind the counter, enjoying the look on her face as he spoke while putting his sunglasses into his inside pocket. Would you tell Anya I am here? I just got in on the late morning flight, and I really do home she has not forgotten I had lunch plans for us. He knew she had told people the reasons they had never been seen together, and he made those a reality but reserved the ability to expose her when it was needed. He knew he was going to enjoy this, and as he watched the girl slowly leave with an effort to take her eyes off of him, he knew it was going to be so much fun teaching Anya a lesson.