Dylan sniffed occasionally as he was driven back to his mansion. He reflected on what Victor said and even though he feared the outcome he knew he had to do it. If she ran away with the money, he would definitely have her captured and brought back to him rather easily. Of course, his assigned man would be keeping tabs on her at all times. But deep down he would be scarred beyond healing. He would lock up his heart and never open it up to any female whosoever.He had tried to put his past and its ugly reminders aside to open up a new spot for Chelsea. Even though several times his memories pushed back in and his insecurities got the better of him, he allowed her prove them wrong time and again. This was just one more test. How she performed in it would determine if all she had been saying was just lie after lie, aimed at making him see her for who she was not. One thing he knew he had unjustly robbed her off was her freedom. She hadn't spoken to anyone she knew ever since he capture
Chelsea walked angrily towards her room. She ignored the courtesy from the guards whom she passed on her way. She hadn't been officially inducted into the cartel as Dylan's consigliere but they all had begun according her a certain level of respect. She got to her room and Joyce was sitting down expectantly. As soon as she stepped in, the elderly woman looked up and smiled at her. "How did you know I was coming here?" she asked, a little bit confused. Joyce didn't respond. She simply kept looking at her with the smile across her face."Wait a minute. You knew he would be mad?" Chelsea asked, a hint of irritation evident in her tone.Joyce nodded calmly. "Geez. For heaven's sake! You knew and you couldn't have told me? Why did you send me there in the first place?" she threw her arms into the air in exasperation and turned around. She scoffed and turned back to Joyce. "With all due respect, Ma, how does this whole family operate? Because sometimes it seems you all have different p
As Chelsea sat in her room, she reflected on Joyce's words. She saw the wisdom and truth in them and immediately regretted lashing out at Dylan. As Joyce had said, that would only amount to him becoming more aggressive and oppressive to her.She exhaled and stood up, immediately exiting her room. She walked along the hallway, her heart thumping as she navigated through the house, heading for Dylan's room. She took a while to remember what she had seen in the room, the strange and imperial grandeur that had graced her.Behind the door was a wide entrance the size of an office. It had sofa chairs on both sides and an office desk at a corner with a rotating chair behind it. The entire room was rather dark-themed and had more elements of black and grey than other colors. It was adorned with scarlet-red lights that glowed dimly from different corners. Several portraits framed in black refined wood hung about on the walls. The portraits were either paintings or pictures of powerful men and
Chelsea felt mixed feelings of confusion, shock and uncertainty. What Dylan said, or what he meant by what he said, seemed vague to her. She stood for some seconds, staring at him with doubt, not blinking or even breathing, to see if he would correct himself. "Sorry?" she asked, her expression becoming contorted as she sought either an affirmation or clarification. Of course, it was enough to ask. He simply smiled and gently placed the glass case on a table nearly. He gestured for her to sit down on a nearby sofa and she immediately obliged. He turned to face her and leaned on the table casually. "The job is quite simple" he began. "As my consigliere, consider this a chance to meet with some of the most powerful men in Miami and all of Florida" he added, smiling with a hint of sly. She kept mute, looking at him with expectancy for more clarification. "There is a man who will be expecting this package. His name is Prince Hakeem, an Arabian man of royal descent. He was here on a vi
"Alright. I'll do it" Chelsea said and stood up. "When's he arriving in Miami?" she asked.Dylan straightened up and exhaled satisfactorily. "Today" he replied. "Fine. I should get going then. Where will he be lodging?" she asked again, walking towards the table to collect the case. "The Imperial Place. That's where he'll be lodging" Dylan replied, observing her as she got to the table.She paused for seconds, inhaling and exhaling deeply. She stared at the package in front of her as though it was a symbol of judgement. She felt it strike her mind, aiding the ongoing dilemma within her. Would she deliver this job? Or would she take the ticket out and bolt away from Florida immediately?She heaved and finally grabbed the case firmly, gently lifting it off the table. It was surprisingly light. For something that contained a jewelry so powerful, valuable and expensive, yes, it was surprisingly light. She turned and walked towards the exit of the room. "Wait" she heard his voice and p
Chelsea was dropped off by Hill outside the Cross Estate where she boarded a new vehicle owned by a contract driver. She watched as Hill drove the Urus back into the estate and dissappear into the main premises far off."Let's go" she instructed the contract driver and he immediately ignited his engine.The man looked through the rear view mirror at Chelsea and observed her intently. "A reminder again, Ma'am. Where are we headed? For clarification" he asked."The Imperial Place" Chelsea replied, observing him as well through his reflection in the rear view mirror.He looked devious and mischievous. Like he was going to deflect at the last minute and hand her over to some people who may have declared her wanted. Maybe Stone or one of Ceaza's accomplices here. Ever since the incident with Alex Shaw, she always had a lingering fear that Ceaza had more men here in Miami. If Alex could be sent here to look for her, she expected he would send others too. And given the fact that Alex hadn'
Chelsea walked to the window inside her suite and looked out at the city at night. She had observed Prince Hakeem's convoy of expensive cars and escorts cruising from a distance towards the hotel. Bentleys, Rolls Royces, Ferraris and Lamborghinis sped across the highways, switching lanes uniformly as they approached The Imperial Place. She had heard of Arabian princes and Dylan had even emphasised this man's wealth. But witnessing the unapologetic display of automobilian magnificence was a feeling on a whole different level. She watched as the lights shone, blinding the eyes of any who dared stare directly at them. The convoy finally slowed down and drove into the premises of the hotel, ending the cinematic show for her.She stepped away from the window and retreated to a part of the suite where she helped herself to a bottle of Bourbon she had ordered earlier. She opened the bottle bottle poured herself a glass.As she drank, she reflected on the level of affluence emanating from t
As she walked towards the elevator, she rehearsed what she would say when she met Prince Hakeem. She would first acknowledge him with a honorary greeting to please his ego. Then she would request for a more private location. "Easy peasy" she exhaled and stepped into the elevator. She set course for the ground floor and soon arrived there. She saw a couple of expensively suited men walking elegantly towards a corner in the reception and followed them discreetly. She watched them get to a door and reach into the inner side of their jacket. They each retrieved a gold coin and showed it to the guard who stood at the door. He greeted them courteously and opened the door for them to pass.She walked confidently to the guard and showed him her coin. He looked at her skeptically for some seconds, possibly trying to see if he could recognise her."Do we have a problem, Sir?" she asked calmly in a refined manner.The guard immediately bowed lightly. "No, Ma'am. I'm sorry if I caused you any d