The Two Lives of Aubrianna McClane

Chapter Three

Present Time

Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed across his chest and one foot braced against the wall, Ben lazily gives me a smirk. "How was the Paris Museum?"

"Fine, if you must know," I reply, throwing my faded green army bag onto the living room couch of my three bedroom apartment in New York City. "It took me ten minutes to steal the ruby, and it was back the next day with no trouble. The news barely had time to cover the story before it was back in its case, and the museum is making up lies about taking it from display for a cleaning day."

"Now I just don't understand why you don't keep what you steal," Ben replies, walking towards me his arms loosely swinging by his sides.

"I don't understand why you do. You're the son and heir of a multibillion dollar company that controls a huge part of the economy without the rest of the world knowing, yet you love to sell whatever you steal as if you need the money. I do it for the thrill. I don't need money."

"Ah right, because you're funded by me."

"Ah, no," I snap. "It's because of a private bank account set up by my da-" I choke on the word and swallow, taking a deep breath before continuing. "By my dad."

"Before he disappeared," Ben happily comments, knowing exactly the affect it will have on me. "By the way, any clues in Paris you missed the first fourteen times you've been their this past year?"

I give him a death glare and with a mock smile, he throws his hands up and backs away. "Don't be glaring like that, I understand when to drop a subject."

"You apparently don't know when to not start a conversation it would seem."

All he does is laugh at me, his tan face crinkling with dimples. "Excuse me if I'm curious."

I clench my fist but turn away from him. Taking the baseball cap off, I run a hand through my messed up ponytail and put the cap by the photo of my dad and I on my dresser. Closing the door to my room, I lock it.

"You know a simple lock won't keep me out!" Ben calls from the other side of the door.

"If you pick lock the door I'll text Debra telling her to go to your parents mansion," I causally respond, remembering an old fling of Ben's who seemed to come with a side of crazy.

Glad to change from my plane clothes, I gently unbutton the worn flannel and fold it up. Placing it onto my bed, I head towards the dresser, stripping down as I go. Once at the dresser, I take my binder completely off and take in a deep breath before searching for comfy clothes.

A baggy shirt and pair of sweatpants later and I'm sitting back in the living across from Ben who still has yet to tell me why he's here. We stare at each other for a few moments, him with his tiny smirk and me with my arms crossed against my chest and an eyebrow raised. He begins to hum, never breaking eye contact. With a roll of my eyes, I stand up with a flourish and head towards the kitchen.

While food in Paris is nice, it feels like home to just cook up some bacon and sausage and eat it with eggs and toast. As I start making my meal Ben comes into the room and sits on one of the counter tops. He pulls out a small hand gun and begins to fiddle with it. More than once he purposely points it in my direction.

Without a seconds pause, I whip around pointing a gun that came from my sweatpants at him and click the safety off. "If you point that at me one more time, I will shoot you."

With a small, victorious smile, Ben holds his hands and his gun up. "I suppose I should tell you why I'm here. I'm sure you're burning with curiosity."