Love At Last Sight ✔

Chapter Two

Nandini Murthy

"Three-point-five millions!" I bang my fist onto my Audi's hood in sheer anger.

"Three millions." He says calmly, leaning onto his Bugatti and playing with the cigarette in his hand. His calmness is the fuel to my anger.

"It's fucking three-point-five millions!" I yell, thoroughly frustrated. I haven't come to this fucking creepy stranded place, having more than ten men, to have an unfair deal and let my $0.5 millions go to waste. This little amount money won't even affect his empire but it can change my whole fucking life.

"You know Nandini—it's always half the actual price." He draws in a long puff from his cigarette. I watch as the cigarette smoke disappears into the air and anger fills me again. I so wish that his illegal business comes out in open one day.

"But this time I've bought you something classy and worthy." I clench my fists at my sides.

"I'm already giving you point-five millions more, ain't I?" He once again draws in a puff, being calm and composed like earlier.

"But—"

"There's no point in arguing, Nandini. You don't even have enough time for that." He stands straight, crushing his half-burnt cigarette under his foot. One of his minions present here hands him another one, along with the lighter.

"Plus, you know you need me to get out of this safely." He holds the cigarette in between his teeth and burns his other end, drawing in another puff.

I fist my hands tighter and curl my lower lip inwards as I give in, "Fine."

I have no other option. He knows my weakness. He knows I need his help if I don't want to land up in jail. Sometimes—no, scratch that, all the fucking times—I just want to smash his cigarette on his face and hear him cry out in pain. That is definitely going to give me some satisfaction. But I know, I'm not that lucky.

"But, not a penny less than three million dollars." I spit, warning him. I'm dealing my love—my Audi Le Mans Concept. It's not even been half an hour since I have stole it and here, it already belongs to this fucker oldie.

"That's like a good girl." He smirks and gestures his another minion with his, gold rings and bracelets clad, hand to go on. I so hate this man but as he says, I do fucking need him. He want things and I need money.

My phone beeps. It's a message from the bank stating, $3 millions has been transferred to my account. Now, my total balance is around $3.4 millions. Just $0.6 million more Nandini Murthy. You can do it. You have to.

"Just do it already." I'm getting impatient when he remains static as if his work is over. Smirking, he gestures his two more minions, who are sitting in the car adjacent to his, and I somewhat relax. I really don't want to land up in jail.

His expert hackers start hitting buttons on their laptops, of whose I only know the outcome. Apparently, they are hacking into the tracking system of the car. All I know is it's hard, extremely hard, to do so but, not impossible. And the hackers this old hag pets are experts. Geniuses. They exactly know what to do and how to do. But they are this hag's puppets and that's why, I need this damned oldie.

Once successful, the tracker will show a false location and thus, Mr. Hot Riche-Rich won't be able to track down his car once he gets to know that it has been stolen. I won't ever steal such things, like this car, in which I can get caught, well, without any full-proof plan. This old hag possesses a collection of cars and he surely loves to add this one in his collection.

I really hope until now, Mr. Riche-Rich shouldn't have found out about his stolen car or else if he tracks it down before hacking—I'll sleep in jail tonight.