Mr.Trillionaire and Miss Runaway Convict

Chapter Twelve

Saira SwitzJefferson:

'Le Mary Celeste.Take us there.'

I slid on my seat,turning my back to Ethan Moretz who would soon know better than to challenge me.

'Le Mary Celeste?Isn't that in the top ten club list in Paris?'
he says,bringing me back to reality,far away from the oreo ice-cream with double chocolate cookies.

I haven't eaten anything,just water and coffee.
My stomach's grumbling like John Cenna is hitting a punching bag.
It's okay though.
I had training on this too,how to go for days without food but that was when I was,let's say,a refugee.

Two lean fingers snap before my eyes and I blink,a bit startled.
'Yes it is.Mr.Desmond.'

From the corner of my eye,I see Ethan angling his body towards me.
'Why so formal?'
'Why so many questions?'
'Because I am curious.'
'Too curious.'
'So I have been told by my middle school teacher who also said I couldn't accomplish anything,let alone start an empire.'

Finally giving up,I look at him,resigned.
'I am not buying it.'
His electric blue eyes are as always,mocking.
'It's true.Do you know why he said that?Because I yelled at him for taking a surprise test.'

Amused,I say,'So aggressive at such a young age.'
'Yeah well,he was pure torture for me. So I had to counter attack.'

Silence is what he gets.He thinks he can weasel the friendliness out of me by chatting me up,well he won't be pleased.

'Are you always like this?',he says,voice tainted with curiosity and a gentle touch of thoughtfulness.

'Unresponsive and rude,you mean?
Only to the people whom I don't trust.'

'As expected.'

The car halts to a stop before I can open my mouth and I smile inwardly,the game begins,Ethan Desmond Moretz.

The game begins.

___________________

Walking into the private hallway that led to my compartment,I look around to see silver twinkling chandeliers are added,golden vases decorate both the sides and a confused but hiding it well trillionaire.

He won't ask me this time,he won't.

'Excuse me,whose property is this?',he asks a waiter standing there with a tray.

Would you look at that?
I got proven wrong,well partially.

The waiter looks at him with a discerned look,'The property of Veronica Zurla.'

I walk ahead with a bored look and soon he catches up with me.
'So your real name is Veronica Zurla?'
'Yes.You caught on fast.'
'Don't lie.'
'Excuse me?'

Is this guy for real?

Sneaking a peak,I see the oh so famous smirk of the trillionaire.

Seriously,why do the good-looking boys always smirk?
What is it,in their gene or something.
They have a gene enclosed in a gene coat named smirkcoat?

Good-looking boys are a pain.Period.

'Your real name isn't Veronica Zurla,your real last name is SwitzJefferson.But you didn't enclose your real name.Why?Why so mysterious,bella donna?'

'Leave it as a mystery,you won't like what you find if you dig in.'

'Can't help it.I am in.'

No.You.Are.Not.