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Heist

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Chapter 7: Heist (Stella's POV)

I stirred awake at the constant shaking of my arm as a woman called out, "Ma'am." Resisting the urge to curse, I opened my eyes and sat upright in my seat, still in the aircraft, I realized. "We landed five minutes ago," she told me, maintaining nothing more than a polite smile. 

Blinking a few times, I looked out the window at the dark sky and the few bright New York City lights shining. My gaze drifted to the seat across from me before I quickly scanned the private jet. Clearing my throat, I asked, "Where's Mr. Romanov?" 

"He's organizing the luggage outside and told me to wake you up five minutes later. He's waiting for you." 

A soft groan escaped me as I touched my temple while my head pounded in pain. "Thank you." She nodded and then walked away wordlessly. After taking a moment to fully wake myself up, I stood up and stretched, adjusting my clothes before drawing my hair back in a bun and grabbing my purse, walking down the aisle and then the stairs, my feet hitting New York pavement once again. 

"That's the last bag, you can place that in the trunk and then close it," Rhys told an employee while pointing them towards the car as he glanced at me but didn't lose the flow of his words. "I'm surprised you woke up at all," he said, checking the time on his watch. "I'm afraid you slept through the final eight and a half hours of freedom you had, my love," he smirked, pocketing his hands and coming a step closer, bending a bit at his knees to reach my height. "My apologies," he added sarcastically. 

"I'm positive I don't need to tell you what you can do with your apologies for you to know, right?" I smiled back in a sickly sweet manner before lifting a hand to his chest and giving him a push, walking past him as our arms brushed. Making my way to his Mercedes, I reached for the passenger door, only the moment I pulled it open, a dreadful thought dawned on me. 

Shutting the door, I abruptly spun back around and found Rhys in the same spot, standing right behind me. Taking a startled step back, I leaned against the car and held his gaze. "You won't take me to my father's house, will you?" My eyes narrowed in doubt. 

"That is what he's asked," he smirked knowingly as he took a step forward and braced his hands on the hood of the car, trapping me in. 

"Don't," I warned, "I will kill you." For the sake of emphasis, I pointed a finger at him but when he touched me, taking a hold of my hand and tugging it closer until my finger was poking right at him, I regretted it. 

"Try me," he replied. 

"Suddenly I don't want to," I blurted out, quickly retreating my finger. "I'm in no mood to argue with my father as of now, Mr. Romanov. The exhaustion wins. Not to mention, it's..." I looked at his hand on the car and tilted my head sideways to read the time. "It's almost midnight," I stated. 

"You're not early to bed or early to rise, Ms. Almonte," he retorted. 

"I just flew for eight and a half hours," I argued. 

"And slept for the entire flight." 

"You are not taking me to my father's house." 

"I'm afraid that's not your decision to make." 

"I'll take a cab back home." 

"That is if you find one." 

"This is New York, do you really think I won't find a cab the moment I walk out of this airport?" 

He stared down at me, holding my gaze as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and waited for me to cave in first. After a few seconds, he let out a breath and I knew I won. "You better have a good story to tell your father tomorrow morning." 

"How I'll avoid him tomorrow is a different matter." 

"You can try avoiding him all you like but it'll only inconvenience us both. He'll send me after you, I'll come get you, you'll refuse and eventually cave in and do as I say. It's the same cycle. Aren't you tired of it?" He lifted a brow at me questioningly. 

"Maybe this time I won't cave in," I shrugged, folding my arms across my chest. 

"Perhaps if it was anyone but me, you wouldn't," he said, stepping back and retreating his hands. "But with me, you always give in," he smirked, lifting a hand and nudging my chin upward using his knuckles, taking his hand back before I could swat it away. "Get in the car, my love." 

I glared at him as he walked around the car and then rolled my eyes as I got the passenger door and seated myself. 

Rhys was truly the bane of my existence. It was almost as if my father was the devil and Rhys was the executioner. Everything he was paid to do, he did, right or wrong be damned, I supposed. 

"Don't you have any morals, Mr. Romanov? Would you do just about anything for money?" 

"If you think what I do with you is immoral then you haven't seen the world you live in, Ms. Almonte," he replied. 

"Oh, is this your twisted version of princess treatment then? Am I the special one?" I watched him with narrowed eyes. 

"Somewhat," he answered calmly. 

"Because I make you the most money?" 

He turned to glance at me but kept his words to himself. If he had any morals at all, they were tainted to the bone in every shade of morally gray. Rhys may not admit it but I knew enough from watching him work over the years. He would do just about anything for money, work with anyone no matter how corrupt they were, and I had no doubt that Rhys would even kill someone for a mere paycheck. This part of Rhys's lifestyle was precisely what kept me far away from him. 

When I first met Rhys, he had just moved back to New York and dropped by to visit my father. He seemed familiar at that first meeting but when I asked Dad who he was, I was told that he was simply a friend's son and I hadn't met him before, so I never questioned anything beyond that. Slowly, Rhys became a more constant part of my life, all because of my father. 

Rhys practically became my father's partner for every deal and in exchange for his advice on deals and often, keeping my father out of jail, he received hefty paychecks. Now, my father didn't do anything without considering it with Rhys first. Not to mention, me. When Rhys returned, my father found the perfect and perhaps the only person who could keep me contained since Dad couldn't do it himself. 

The day I met Rhys, I should have known he was only here to ruin me. Yet somehow, no matter how many times it happened, Rhys had grown to become my blind spot. I always expected him to take my side for no particular reason, to help me out, to defend me... but he always let me down because he never did. 

"I should have just stayed away from you from the get-go," I muttered, watching him warily. 

His eyes cut to mine and then drifted to my seatbelt. Before I could do it myself, he leaned forward and grabbed it, leaning in closer to me as he pulled it across my body and buckled me in with an audible click. "Can't have you getting hurt, I have to protect my paycheck, don't I?" 

Rolling my eyes, I nudged him away and sunk into my seat, closing my eyes. I definitely should have stayed away from him. 

The first time I met Rhys was at a party my father hosted when I had just returned from London for work. Officially, it was to welcome Rhys back to New York, unofficially it was because Rhys saved my father from going to prison for robbery. 

I wanted to laugh when I heard about it from Alex. I never understood how Dad thought robbery could be the solution to anything... until now. From what Alex told me, the heist was just a ploy to delay the deal until my father was sure of his partner and the heist proved that he couldn't be. 

A heist never seemed like such a solution to any problem except this fucking arranged marriage being imposed on me. 

"Mr. Romanov," I said, turning to look at him. 

"Yes, Dorogaya?" 

"When we first met," I prompted and he glanced at me, "you were working with my father on a robbery case, weren't you?" 

"Are you trying to get confidential information?" he questioned accusingly. 

"It's not confidential if I already know it," I replied smugly, "my father had robbed someone. Who did he rob?" 

Rhys never helped me, never aided me in anything, never took my side. But this once, just this once, I prayed to the Gods, even the ones I didn't believe in and hoped he would just turn a blind eye to me. 

If I went wrong with this and the news reached Rhys, he would know it in a heartbeat so if I was to do what I was thinking of, I had to do a damn fucking good job. 

Rhys watched me for a moment, deliberating whether he should tell me or not. 

Please, please, please. 

"Matteo D'Angelo," he answered, "your father robbed him and their deal collapsed. They resolved the matter amongst themselves." 

A shaky breath escaped me. I was right. I was nothing but a business deal to my father. "I'm the compensation," I scoffed lightly. This marriage was nothing but my father compensating for the two million he stole. After knowing that, there was no way in hell I would let this marriage happen. 

Even if I had to rob my own father of two million dollars. 

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Chapter 7

I haven't had time to write or update as much I knowww

BUT

I'm flying back home tomorrow and hopefully, I'll be back on schedule :))

next ch: secrets