Personal Assistant: Limited Edition[MXM]✔

Chapter 3

3.

I lit a cigarette and took a few puffs, releasing smoke into the room slowly. I could see it rise up into the air against the black background and slowly it disappeared. I raised my fingers into the air, trying to follow the trail the smoke took. I spread my legs on the bed and lay as still as I could, with only my fingers moving to remove the cigarette and put it back in.

The storm had increased. The rain was much audible as it hit the windows and trailed down. The many trees in the garden were whistling like a disapproving audience, being jerked back and forth by the wind. There seemed to be murmuring in the air, or that was just my imagination. As I lay in the dark of my temporary bedroom, my heart rate seemed to increase with the wind.

I pushed the duvet down and pulled myself into a sitting position. Except for the sounds of the storm outside, the house was quiet. It was the perfect time to strike.

I'd been lying on the bed for over two hours, tossing and turning. The storm outside had nothing to do with it. In fact, the storm was inside of me. It imprinted itself on my blood cells, wrecking havoc wherever it went. It welled up until taking long drags of a cigarette was the only way to keep it a bay.

I had never done what I was about to do. I'd shoplifted a box of crayons when I was ten years old but what I was about to do was different. I was going to steal from a man who'd given me shelter when I had nowhere else to go and fed me to a point where I was stuffed. He'd let me have three servings of roast beef for dinner, only chuckling when I asked for more. He'd provided his expensive sheets for me to sleep on.

But Ross was worth a billion dollars; surely he could afford to part with a couple of hundreds? I'd done some research on RossTech software & electronics. The company was worth 16.4 billion US dollars. Ross owned 60% of that company. That meant he was worth at least 9.8 billion dollars. He was on the list of youngest billionaires in the world. I also learned he was a mini-celebrity, known for his quirky behaviors and introverted nature.

I rationalized that I'd be taking out a raindrop out of the Pacific Ocean. He'd still have enough money to live his luxurious life and collect pin-back buttons.

My feet were cold on the floor, even though they were covered with thick socks. I opted  not to wear shoes, deciding they would probably make much noise. I sneaked out of my room and walked down the corridors, looking around for signs of Nasir. Stealthily I descended down the stairs, making sure to put my feet softly and firmly on each stair. It would be comical if I misplaced my foot and tumbled down the stairs. Nasir would surely come running with some object to do harm to an intruder. I had an excuse ready for being downstairs but the commotion would destroy my plan.

As I approached the right door I became more vigilant. If Nasir found me there I had no excuse. My excuse was I got thirsty and decided to go to the kitchen for some water. That wouldn't make any sense since I was definitely walking in the direction opposite to the kitchen.

The door to Ross' office was open. That realization hit me like a brick and I stopped walking. If the door was open, chances were Ross was in there wanking. That seemed to be like his thing.

I approached the door anyway and quietly pushed it open further. I had an excuse at the ready. Ross seemed like the guy who enjoyed talking, despite the media's portrayal of him as an introverted reticent person. If I told him I was unable to sleep and sought company he'd buy into that and go into a monologue about his own insomnia.

The office was cold. A thin smell of coffee hit my nostrils. The light was off, suggesting Ross wasn't in the room. I tiptoed in, careful not to trip over anything. A carpet stretched over the entire room like in other rooms, which made being inaudible a lot easier. A glass desk was in the middle of the room, on it an open laptop, stacks of what looked like tech magazines, charging station for a phone and an open notebook. The wad of cash I'd seen earlier was still there.

The office was dark, but from earlier I knew the walls were painted white, the carpet was white and the furniture was either white or silver. It contained a glass desk and chair and a large cabinet and book case about five feet, six inches tall.

I walked over to the desk and grabbed the stack of money, putting it in my sweatshirt pocket. A short look at the cabinet behind me returned with something that intrigued me, something I hadn't seen before. To be fair, I'd been too stunned when I walked in on Ross jerking off to observe details of his office.

In the upper corner of the cabinet was a glass covered shelf. The shelf was the only brightly-colored spot in the room. It contained what looked like Rubik's cubes. There wasn't just two or three of them. There seemed to be twenty-something original dimensions Rubik's cubes crammed in there.

The muted sound of rain reminded me that I was in the office without permission. I briskly walked out, pulling the door to the state I'd found it in. I wasn't as careful as I was when I made my way upstairs. The sooner I left the scene of the crime, the better.

I made it to my room and threw myself on the bed. The lamp on the nightstand was switched on with eager hands. I had no idea how much money I'd managed to steal. I had to count it. The stack of money amounted to seven hundred dollars. It was not all I needed but it was more than what I immediately needed. It would work as a pacifier. It gave me a chance to come up with the rest. I would part with some and keep some for my necessities.

I switched off the light and got under the sheets. I hadn't bothered changing into my sleeping clothes. It was a wise move. If I wanted to make it out of the house with the cash I had to leave before anyone suspected it was missing. That meant I had to leave in the wee hours of the morning.

I said a short prayer the storm had let up by then. There was no way I could spend another day at the Mitchell mansion.

It simply wouldn't work.

-

A/N: This is incredibly short, I know. It has to be a stand-alone chapter and I hate fillers. The next one will be long.

Dante