Chelsea felt her heart skip a bit at those words. She had expected to see a regular prisoner, or worse, a tortured captive who was either unconscious or bleeding his soul out. But this was different. The prisoner was the secret lover of Dylan's ex-wife, Clara. And he had no marks whatsoever that showed evidence of torture or beatings. "Every day I've held back the urge to slit his throat" Dylan said calmly, hatred brewing in his voice. The man kept on looking at Chelsea, not saying a word. His nose twitched occasionally but his eyes were fixed on Chelsea. Then he suddenly smirked. She stepped back in fright. "What's he doing?" she asked Dylan nervously."He's just a demented asshole. Maybe that was the look he used to give Clara before they had intercourse" Dylan replied with contempt. His grip on the bars tightened and Chelsea could see the vein on his hand. His sleeves were rolled up as though he was ready to land deadly punches at any time."This could have been Fred Martin had
Chelsea reached for Dylan's lap as they rode to work the next day. He turned to her and smirked slyly. She bit her lower lip and looked at him ignorantly. She gently caressed his lap, sliding her hand slowly back and forth on it. He grabbed her hand and stroked the back of her palm. "What are you doing?" he calmly asked her as he stroked her hand."Nothing. Just playing around" she replied innocently. He chuckled. "We both now where such plays lead to, don't we?" he asked."I'm not scared to go there. Are you?" she asked in return. He smiled broadly. "Not in the slightest" he replied and placed her hand back on his lap. She resumed her caressing while he sat back, smiling as he enjoyed it.They got to the office and walked in together. As they ascended the flight of stairs, several stares of admiration were directed at Chelsea. She locked back at some of them, a look of confusion appearing on her face. Dylan took a few glances around before heading for his office. They got to his of
Chelsea was frozen to her bones. Her gaze was fixed on the man for almost a minute after she heard him call her birth name. It was a name that seemed as distant as the life attached to it. Laura Christian was a version of her that died several years ago. The death of that version bore life to who she was now, Chelsea Landore. The last thing she expected was someone digging up her past and the skeletons she buried with it. She had done many notorious things as Chelsea Landore. But Laura Christian was the most notorious. She had pulled her first scam when she was nineteen and she accidentally killed the man when he tried to kill her. She abandoned her home city of California and made her way to Atlanta, seeking a new life, a new identity from the place she had committed her first murder. Or so she thought. Because sitting here across her, with glass of whiskey in his hand and an evil smirk across his lips was the man she had supposedly killed, her first scam victim. Alex Shaw.She had
FlashbackOne Year Ago Chelsea walked into a dark room elegantly, swaying her hips from side to side. She sported a bob-cut hairstyle and together with her all-black-themed make up, her entire appearance gave off a rebellious vibe. The room was dimly lit with hues of dark blue and red glowing out of certain areas. A dark-skinned man sat on a bed in the middle of the room.She walked seductively, giving off a raunchy air. As she approached the dark-skinned man, she smirked slyly, eyeing him in an alluring manner. She got to the bed in the middle of the room and gripped the parts of its frame on either side of the man, leaning forward to kiss the dark-skinned man. He gave her a plain expression and turned away."What's wrong C?" she asked, taking hold of his face in her hands.He exhaled and withdrew his face from her grip immediately. She tried to repeat the gesture again but he repeated his reaction. She smiled and climbed the bed, crawling to the empty space behind him. She knelt up
Chelsea sat quietly, observing Alex's every move. He stood at the other end of the room, leaning on a table with a glass cup clutched between his hands. She had seen him make a call some minutes ago and she deciphered that he was calling either a pickup driver or his search partner. Either way, she had to leave here, and fast.She gently stood up with a calm expression. Alex watched her skeptically through the space between his eyes and the rim of the glass cup he drank his drink from. She slowly walked towards him with her hands clasped behind her, a smile curving on her lips. He brought the drink down. "What do you think you're doing?" he scoffed with a smirk. "Walking" she replied elegantly, steady in her steps as she approached him.He abruptly straightened up. "Stay back!" he ordered calmly but seriously, putting the glass cup down.She ignored the order and continued walking slowly toward him. Her smile curved more as she got closer.He reached into his inner suit jacket and p
Dylan looked at his watch for the thousandth time and confirmed its current reading with the clock on the wall above the door that led to Chelsea's office. Both readings matched, reassuring him once more that his watch was correct. He sighed in resignation and took his eyes off the clock.His eyes fell on the door and he sighed again. He leaned forward on his desk, resting his elbows on it. He gently caressed his glabella, closing his eyes in reflection. He was worried and there was no way he could hide it. The situation made him upset, worried and restless. He felt that a bad thing might have happened to Chelsea and he was here sitting, doing nothing. He deeply regretted not offering to go with her when he knew she would have readily and eagerly accepted. At least that would save him the torment of frustration he was undergoing right now. He had thought that him offering such would paint him as weak, clingy or jealous. But deep inside he knew he was all those things when it came to
Dylan walked gently towards Chelsea, staring intently at her with disbelief in his eyes. Not that he didn't believe her report. No, he disbelieved the fact that a person in his or her right thinking senses would dare to rape someone in a hotel in Miami. Worse still, that the person would think of doing it to a staff of Cross Enterprises. And at the apex of that, even to his Chief Assistant. Whether as the Pope in the underworld or as Dylan Cross in the regular society, he was a colossal force that even the wildest of tigers dared not provoke. It was public knowledge that those who crossed Dylan Cross ended up devastated or destroyed. In the underworld, he could handle it instantly and in the most lethal way befitting of a mafia don that he was. Just a gesture and the unfortunate opponent would be laying dead at his feet in less than an hour. He had slain men who did far more less.In the regular society, he tended to handle it more civil. If the threat was from a fellow businessman,
Alex peeped out the window one more time before returning to his original sitting position. He had repeatedly done the same thing previously at several intervals. He gave himself a space of five to ten minutes before repeating the process. He clutched his hands together as he sat, expectantly waiting for his assigned pickup driver. He sniffed occasionally and exhaled repeatedly, rubbing his hands against each other as though under a certain tension. His eyes hurt him excruciatingly but he had learned to get used to pain. Whatever it was Chelsea had thrown into his eyes was really poisonous. He could feel it eating into his eye sockets but he maintained composure. He had moved away from the hotel immediately after the incident with Chelsea. He knew he would be compromised if he stayed there. So immediately he saw Chelsea leave in the Urus, he boarded a taxi and drove to a remote location he had previously paid for.True to it, he was actually under tension. And for two reasons. First