Blame. (Book 1.)

3.

I crossed my arms over my chest as I walked towards the gate, looking at the people and the building in utter disgust.

Zayn was walking beside me and I remembered what I promised.

To make this as real as possible.

Oh, I'll show him real alright.

I walked closer to him and took his hand in my own, lacing our finger together and smiling up at him.

I batted my eyelashes at him. And he looked own at me, rolling his eyes. "You weren't kidding when you said you would make this believable."

I shook my head as we walked past the hate. "Nope, I wasn't."

Zayn rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on my hand.

We entered the building and I almost threw up. The lights were dim, tables with white sheets over them were scattered around the runway that was yet to be lit up. A huge diamond chandelier hung above us.

Zayn and I leaned against the wall, he wrapped his arms around my waist as I looked up at him. "So. What's the plan."

Zayn sighed and pulled me closer to him, his voice was deep and low as he spoke. "His room is on the 3rd floor, right? When the show starts, we go in his room, and get the mone-"

I raised an eyebrow. "How are we gonna get in, Sherlock?"

"Room service. We'll knock out a few bitches and sneak inside." He looked around the room then back at me. Determination in his eyes. "We'll get inside, get the money, get out, and.. you know the rest."

I nodded my head, placing my hand on his chest and smoothing out his shirt from the wrinkles that were in view.

This mission was a piece of cake.

I heard a buzz in my ear and turned around so my back was towards Zayn. Causing him to grab my hips and pull my body close to his own. He rested his head on my own. I wanted to desperately push him away.

I double tapped my earpiece, heaving out a sigh. "What do you got, Camila."

I heard Camila type rapidly on a computer as she spoke. "The show begins at 12:30, Lo. Brockwell happens to own 4 hotel rooms for.. whatever reason. The money is located in a safe, underneath his bed. The combination is his birthday. 041888. He's loaded with security by the way."

Typical. Everyone knows to not assign any password or code as your birthday. It's too easy.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Estimate?"

I heard Camila type a little more and groan. "None. But there's some security inside the rooms. Especially the room with the safe."

I groaned, both from annoyance and from Zayn kissing my head. His lips felt like fresh rocks from a volcano. "Figures."

Camila sighed. "Yeah. But you'll be fine. Golding's room is down the hall from his own. Actually. She's to your left. Red dress. Tacky earrings."

I cautiously turned my head over to the left, elbowing Zayn then pointing over to Mrs. Golding. I looked at her up and down. Not bad for a 60 something year old.