The Beauty And The Heist

Chapter 36

Adrian was an idiot, but he was a smart idiot. Hopefully he knew what he was doing, I thought as I walked towards the wrought iron gates of the Abandonato estate.

"Excuse me?" A guard called. "You can't enter without permission."

"Tell Dylan Di Angelo that Chevron Rane needs his help," I said.

"Are you crazy, I told you..."

"AND I FUCKING TOLD YOU I NEED TO SPEAK WITH DYLAN RIGHT NOW!"

"Bitch is crazy, let her in." The guard muttered.

The gates opened and I strolled into the estate like a supermodel. Not much impressed me after I'd seen Adrian's family estate.

Three men armed with guns waited at the entrance. I threw my shoulders back and strutted in.

"Chevie?" A familiar voice called. Dylan. I restrained the overwhelmingly strong urge I had to slap the shit out of that conniving, scheming, betraying bastard.

Inner peace. Calm down, Chevron.

I schooled my features into an expression of terror. Fortunately, I'd read enough teen drama books to know how to play this.

"Dylan," I sobbed.

"Chevie! What are you doing here?! Don't you know how scared I was?!" He asked, gently taking my hands in his.

Yeah? Then why did you let Adrian take me?!

Not that I mind, I added as an afterthought.

He was dressed in a pinstriped blue suit. The Dylan I knew wouldn't be caught dead in a suit. But that Dylan was a memory now.

"I should have stayed with you, Dylan," I whispered, biting my lip and withdrawing my hands from his touch.

"It's okay, Chevron, you're here now. It wasn't your fault."

Damn right, it wasn't.

I always hated two faced bitches. The one that acts like they're your friend and stab you in the back the next minute, being the nerd, I always had people who would smile at me and ask for help in assignments and bitch about me the minute I was gone. Like the naïve idiot that I was, I would do anything to get accepted.

Now I wonder if the bullying ever really stopped. Did Dylan and Tyler bitch about me the minute my back was turned?

Don't kill him, Chevron.

I smiled.

Dylan looked at me. "How'd you get hurt?" He whispered in horror.

Oh that. The evidence of my misadventures in Reykjavik had granted me a pattern of bruises. Not my fault, of course, the ice was slippery and my shoes were too big for my feet.

And there was also a minor detail that I was uncommonly clumsy.

"I got hurt while escaping," I whispered.

"You escaped?" He asked.

"No, I politely asked Adrian DeLuca if I could go out for a stroll. Even said please." I said, unable to reign in my sarcasm any longer.

A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. Uh oh.

"Dylan, what if he comes for me?" I asked fearfully.

Dylan seemed to calm down.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." He said.

"But he's dangerous, you have no idea," I said.

"Why don't you give me more information on him? I'll be able to protect you better," he said.