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"Self-absorbed billionaires, doing nothing but stroking their billionaire dollar egos. They’re probably on some yacht, near a privately owned island, sipping real champagne from real crystal flutes, just being around other rich people, supermodels with perfect faces and legs, and—"
"Yeah, rich people are the worst."
"I know, right?" Dakota said with fervor. "They’re just pretty boys with money. And you know what? If they met someone like Python, they would probably crap themselves. But I faced that terrifying giant head-on, staring him down in his scarred face as he threatened to break my neck."
"You’re a tough one."
"I am," Dakota said proudly. She lived in the real world, and she was still surviving it.
"But I’m coming with you."
"That’s an emphatic no. I’m not dragging you into my world of crime and mishaps. Again, that’s a big, fat no. Plus, you need to stay here and have the pizza and cheap gin ready for when I return with the diamond."
After picking out her most modest, non-threatening outfit, a sleeveless thin strapped top, a long, fitted floral skirt, she put her hair up in a high ponytail, skipped wearing any makeup, and slipped on a pair of boring flat sandals.
She added a cardigan to her ensemble to finish her guiltless look. Raven approved. No one would look at her and think, "thief in the making."
Fuck my luck.
For all her talk about how weak the billionaires were, she was either going to jail for attempting to steal a diamond or she was going to end up at the bottom of a river.
Either way, her prospects were not good.
But the one thing that kept coming back to her, uninvited and unwanted, was how insignificant she had been in their presence—they hadn't even given her a millisecond of a glance, where they, essentially all strangers to her, had done nothing but consumed every fiber of her being.
Not just Michael Newman with his dominant gray eyes, or Preston Reyes with his mesmerizing blue ones, or Zachary West with his hazel-colored iris that made her gasp out loud. It hadn't been just one of them who had affected her, but all three of them.
They had thrilled all of her senses, made her body tingle, and her heart pound like never before. But it had all been pointless, so she decided to put those feelings in a box and burn them.
Honestly, she didn’t have the time to fantasize about obscenely rich guys who had looked right past her.
Also, she was just done with the shit luck life kept handing her.
No more!
She took a deep, fortifying breath to calm herself down, straightened her shoulders, and told herself she was ready to go steal back a diamond.
Those three billionaire boys were not going to screw up her life again, not when she had just gotten back on track.
She wasn’t going to let that happen, and she was prepared to go all the way, whatever all the way entailed, to make sure she didn't end up dead at Jones' hands.
Chapter Three
Dakota dropped her head on the wheel of her rundown car.
What had she gotten herself into?
Her anxiety had skyrocketed as she drove through the city to the plush outskirts, where only the stinking rich belonged. She had no business being here. She stood out like a sore thumb and expected to be stopped at every turn and asked if she was lost.
The palatial house she had craned her neck to peer up at, the residence of one Michael Newman, Preston Reyes, and Zachary West, blew her mind. Its stunning ultra-sleek modern facade, with its slim lines, angles, and surrounding glass exterior, made her snort in an unladylike manner.
Rich people.
But it also appeared to be as fortified as a... fortress.
Right. She’d better get on with it.
So her plan would not win any prizes for being very clever or original, but she had no choice but to revert to the old-fashioned ploy of "Can I use your phone? My car broke down, and my cell phone died."
