CHAPTER FIVE

Posh, prim and proper. Just like the numerous princes of England, the honey blond man stood at a less than flattering height. He wasn't a short man, not at all. He was just not tall, as tall as the man at the receiver. The flattering thing about him however, was his groomed stubble, his straight, tall nose bridge and round sharp eyes glistening a flaming almost turquoise colour under the rays of sunlight that escaped into the room through the open window blinds. 

This man wore regular sized rectangular spectacles with silver frames to aid his minus eight vision, the only 'flaw' in his appearance. In his opinion, every twat that thought he looked odd with his frames could as well go and fuck themselves. He didn't look odd, he looked every bit as hot as the man at the receiver. 

"Yes sir, we'll be receiving a new placement tomorrow morning like you ordered." He spoke into his phone, talking to the deep voiced individual at the other end. The man's expression seemed to shift for a second, accompanied by him pushing his glasses up his nose bridge. 

"Yourself?... 

I'll put the word across to get it cleaned up properly… 

In how many days, sir?... 

Alright sir, I'll do just that."

The phone line beeped silent. The man padded over in a pair of slippers and took a seat by a large desk where a small cup of tea sat, strapping tight the belt of his chantilly lace white bathrobe. He punched in some numbers from the open phone book on the desk and dialled, waiting patiently for the receiver to be answered.

Two rings were all it took for the receiver to be answered swiftly, opened by a shallow gruff voice clearing his throat almost too loudly. Pissing the young blond man with what he called 'unruly manners.'

"We weren't expecting your call sir. Is there… er… a problem, sir?

The blond man pinched his nose bridge with his thumb and index finger at the odd voice at the other end. It was weird, this voice that he could never get used to. It was very unpleasant, he swore that he would fit perfectly for an exorcist. 

"Just clean up. He's coming very soon." He said grimly, slicking back his damp, strawberry blond locks. 

"Who?"

"Are you dumb?"

The voice on the other end exhaled sharply, drawing in erratic breaths as he spoke. 

"Yes sir! Well, not exactly… Coming right -"

The line went dead again. The blond man threw the phone on the desk, while drawing in breaths of his own. 

He sighed out somewhat frustrated by the sudden instruction. The first man was being a pain in the arse, randomly deciding to show up out of nowhere. He pinched his nose bridge again, a habit he'd come to do when things didn't go as planned. 

That fucker.

Yet that fucker was his boss. 

-

"Found the bitch!" One of the men yelled out, moving in quick strides to grab the girl who barely stood under the rain. Kiara barely stood upright and literally frozen watching the numerous clusters of flashlights rapidly approach her. She blinked repeatedly, in attempts to rid her eyes of tears and rain water. All in stupid vain. 

The flashlights were blinding, and she couldn't see; rather she felt herself be yanked away harshly in one direction since she was temporarily unable to see anything. The stupid rain was still falling, but had been significantly reduced to a small drizzle. 

She still struggled to see, since she couldn't fight back at them. She was cold, malnourished and had a bad ankle, so fighting was like intentionally falling through Mount Everest's V hole. This was enemy territory, and she was the flea that needed to be kicked out. 

They arrived at the front door in what Kiara felt should have been a hundred normal human steps. But these men? No, these men were monster sized. 

Are they going to kill me? 

She saw the door being forced open into the now very illuminated wide 'ballroom'. It was blinding at first, taking her a few seconds to see colours again. Now that she saw the room, it was very different from what she'd imagined in the darkness. Before she could take any further look at the expanse of the room, she felt herself be thrown in front of a large cathedra; one of the many antique pieces that scattered disorderly  across the room. 

"We found this one, sir. The other guards are searching for the other one outside." One of the men reported, switching off his large flashlight. She blinked again, dissipating some of the water from her eyes before looking carefully to see a pair of probably endless trouser covered legs be crossed in slow motion. His shoes looked new and polished, and he rocked his crossed foot back and forth slowly. Calmly. All too calmly, she'd expected him to haul at her already. But the man just sat there, doing nothing. 

"Good". He finally said, his ocean deep voice resonating through the entire room. 

Wait, what's that accent? 

Chills seemed to run through the teenager's spine all over again, as she visibly shuddered. He was too controlled. Very fucking intimidating. 

"Look up. You." He said again, pointing at the petite frame that lay on the ground, staring at it like it meant the world. She didn't budge. 

"I don't think you suddenly lost your courage after breaking into my house. You're better than that." The man was starting to get slightly irritated at the girl. So help him God that he didn't reach out to force her head up. For fuck's sake she could be a feisty little animal. 

I thought they were bloody Americans! 

"Miss, you better look up." She heard another voice pretend to whisper. The voice came from a figure that stood beside the cathedra, perfectly poised from his stance. 

She finally looked up slowly to see the blond assistant standing tall beside her tormentor, his rectangular spectacles sitting in all its glory on his nose bridge. She glanced slowly from the blond man over to the man who sat on the cathedra, whose dominating aura made it very difficult to breathe. 

Her blue lips fell open in horror to see the muscular man, his short jet black hair slightly tousled to the left side of his face. His features were sharp and savoury; the sharp eyes shaped like willow leaves, a tall straight nasal bridge, plum, almost rosy lips and an incredibly chiselled square jaw. Perfection.

Mike Green. 

She mentally slapped herself and looked back down as she felt fresh tears stream out of her eyes for the umpteenth time that night. Of all the rich American bastards that existed in the city, Kal couldn't come up with anyone to take a heist on. But no, his stupid ass had to pick the wealthiest English man in probably the whole of America. She'd seen him in a magazine Mr Anderson bought and left on the counter at her coffee shop. Right now she could only attempt to wish that he would spare her. 

"How did you little twat think that you could beat my security? Did you assume that it was safe to come here because it's night?" He questioned, cocking a brow as he did. 

"I...I'm...s...sorry…" She muttered as she cried, clutching the wet material of her jeans.

The man scoffed, folding his arms as he did. "You're sorry yeah? I think not. There's a special place for the likes of you and the second bastard, I should probably send you there. How beautiful does prison time sound?"

Her head whipped up immediately. Prison?! I would die!

"I swear I didn't steal anything! I promise you I didn't take anything! It's all upstairs I swear on my life!" she cried out. She could see a smirk play on his lips while he looked ahead of her, at one of the guards who'd dragged her inside. 

"Fifty, check the store room now."

"No, wait!" She called out, making the dark haired Englishman smirk even wider. 

"What is the problem? So you did actually steal from me?"

"It wasn't me I swear. Kal took some money, but I swear I didn't see it."

"You've been swearing a lot for a thief like you." The man snapped at her. The title he gave her sent arrows of guilt and disappointment through her form. 

"I'm sorry." She sniffled out. 

"Who are you? And why did you think you could steal from me?"

She thought for a second. If she didn't talk now, she could be facing potential jail time. And rich people were fucking merciless. 

"Kiara Johnson. Nineteen." She croaked out again. The man's expression shifted for a millisecond in surprise, before returning to its resting bitch face state. 

"Nineteen? And who was the other person?"

No response. 

"Miss, I'd appreciate it if you started talking. I do not have all night before I contact the police." The man said again, now swirling a cellphone in his hands. 

"His name is Kal. He's my friend."

"So you 'friends' thought it best to come here?"

"Sir I'm so sorry," She cried again. "Please don't send me to jail, I have a poor mother…"

"That's not a valid reason." 

"I will find him and make sure he returns everything!" She spoke up again, this time clearing her voice slightly. 

"You have forty-eight hours to find him and return my money. Or not, I will have the police tail you both. And you won't see your poor mother again."

She nodded slowly as he spoke, wiping at her eyes again. "Adonis, take her contact details."

"And don't even try to run away from me, it's not hard to find you. Now, get out." Mike concluded with a posh wave, signalling for the guards to take her out of the building. 

Outside, only a soft breeze blew against her damp clothes. She would have appreciated it if the guards escorted her out of the gate. It was chilly and lonely, and she limped painfully on the way. There was only a ten dollar bill in her damp denim pockets, but the place was too far away from getting a taxi or something. Besides, only drunks and whores would litter the streets by 1am. 

She dragged herself through the empty pathway and down some bushes into a main street. The usually bustling street was empty and dead, with only a few working street lamps giving light to the area. She cried again as she went through, cussing at Kal out loud for the darkness to hear. She was profane with her words, falling down a few times on the streets. 

It was almost 2am by the time she'd gotten home. She'd wanted to check Kal's house, but she was too annoyed and overwhelmed to do so. She went inside the listing building, settling tiredly on the sofa before drifting off to sleep. Low-key she hoped that by the time she would wake up, the whole night wouldn't be real. It'll just be a very horrible nightmare. 

-

Three rings, no answer. Kiara frowned as she shifted the weight of the ice on her ankle, although the rest of her body was covered in blankets yet drenched in sweat. She sneezed and dialled the number again on the phone. He still didn't pick up.

That lying bastard. 

It was already ten in the morning, the window blinds were draped open and let in shimmering light rays into the sitting room from the kitchen. She'd changed out of her clothes with extreme difficulty, now stretching her hands in temporary, physical relief because everything was far from okay. 

A message popped up on her phone screen and she rushed to open it. It had to be Kal.

"Forty one hours left."

She hissed in frustration, throwing down the phone. This wouldn't do, she had to find that fucker herself. If only she'd not been a tad bit greedy. 

She shifted the blanket away from her small frame and stood up, wearing her flip-flops to leave the house. The idiot lived just across the streets, so it would be better to just go to his house. 

And so she did, finding his landlord in front of the building. Why would Kal's landlord be here? Did he owe rent? 

"Good morning," she greeted the small old man. The man who'd aged a hundred in ten years gave an ugly toothed smile in return, while placing a small mortgage sign on the door. What? 

"Are you putting the house up for rent? What about Kal?"

"You didn't know? He paid up his rent and moved out yesterday evening." The old man replied, scratching his dry, grey beard. 

"M... moved out… to where?!"

"He said he was relocating out of the state, but he didn't say where."

Oh to heck no.