Dylan's grip on Frudi's arms tightened as he steadied her, his eyes locked onto hers with a mix of surprise and concern. But as his gaze dropped to the bandage on her hand, his expression transformed into pure worry.
"Frudi, what happened? How did you...?" Dylan's questions tumbled out in a rush as he pulled her into a deserted alleyway, away from prying eyes.
Frudi stood still, a soft smile playing on her lips as she gazed up at Dylan. She didn't respond to his questions, didn't explain the injury or the secrets she kept. Instead, she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "Did you miss me?"
Dylan's eyes widened, taken aback by the question. He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing before he replied, his voice rough, "Every day."
Frudi's smile grew, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. She reached up, her fingers wrapping around Dylan's collar, pulling him down. Their lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss, the tension between them igniting like a spark to flame.
Dylan's resistance crumbled, his arms wrapping around Frudi as he deepened the kiss, his heart racing with a mix of emotions. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the intensity of their reunion.
As they broke apart for air, Frudi and Dylan stared into each other's eyes, the tension between them still crackling. Frudi's confusion was written across her face - she hadn't meant to enjoy the kiss, but her traitorous heart had other plans. She tried to wriggle free from Dylan's grasp, but he held tight, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
In a flash of mischief, Frudi started tickling Dylan, her fingers dancing across his ribs. Dylan's laughter erupted, deep and contagious, and Frudi couldn't help but join in.
As they caught their breath, Dylan asked, his voice still shaking with mirth, "Why did you kiss me, Frudi?"
Frudi's grin turned impish. "I hadn't annoyed you in a while. Figured it was time."
Dylan's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're something else, Frudi."
When Frudi mentioned she was hungry, Dylan offered to take her somewhere. Frudi's suspicion was clear, but she agreed, her curiosity getting the better of her.
As they walked to her car, the faculty's stares weighed heavily on Frudi. Dylan noticed, his gaze sweeping protectively over her. He shed his jacket, draping it over Frudi's shoulders, the gesture sending butterflies swirling in her stomach.
When they reached the parking lot, Frudi pointed to the sleek Rolls Royce. "That's my car."
Dylan's eyes widened, his jaw dropping. "You drive a La Rose Noire? Frudi, this car is..."
Frudi's laughter cut him off, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Get in, Martinez. I'll show you what she can do."
Frudi's confusion deepened as she pulled up to Dylan's address, a modest house in a quiet neighborhood. But as they stepped inside, the aroma of sizzling chicken and fresh herbs enveloped her, and her stomach growled in anticipation.
Dylan expertly juggled cooking duties, his movements fluid and confident. Frudi watched, mesmerized, as he slid the chicken into the oven and set the timer.
As they sat down at the kitchen table, Dylan's expression turned serious, his eyes locking onto Frudi's. "What happened to your hand?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
Frudi hesitated, tempted to spin a lie, but something in Dylan's gaze made her opt for half-truths instead. "I got injured on the job," she said, her voice matter-of-fact.
Dylan's eyes widened, confusion etched on his face. "What do you mean?"
Frudi sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I work with dangerous people, Dylan. It comes with the territory. Take it like I work with the CIA and agree with me. Trust me, I'm not spying on you"
Dylan's shock was palpable, but he nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I had no idea."
The silence between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the ticking clock and the aroma of roasting chicken. Then, Dylan spoke up, his voice measured. "Daniel told me about your conversation, Frudi. About why you hate me."
Frudi's gaze snapped to his, her eyes narrowing. "What did he say?"
Dylan's eyes held hers, his expression sincere. "He said you couldn't stand my attitude, my nonchalance. That it drove you crazy."
Frudi's lips twisted, a wry smile. "That's true. I couldn't stand it. Still can't."
Dylan's eyes never left Frudi's face as he asked, his voice soft and probing, "Why did you hate me so much, Frudi? What did I do to deserve it?"
"There are one in a million kinds of humans I hate and you happen to be at the very top of the list" Frudi's gaze drifted away, her shoulders sagging as she stood up and began to pace around the room. She walked to the window, her fingers closing around the latch as she pulled it shut, the sound echoing through the silence.
As she turned back to Dylan, her eyes seemed to bore into his soul. "Can you use a gun, Dylan?" she asked, her voice low and even.
Dylan nodded, his expression unwavering. "Yes, I can."
Frudi's gaze narrowed, her eyes glinting with a knowing light. "Do you have guns?"
Dylan hesitated, his eyes flicking away before returning to Frudi's face. The pause spoke volumes.
Frudi's smile was a thin, mirthless line. "Don't lie to me, Dylan. I know your dad's business isn't just oil. He deals in drugs, too."
Dylan's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and resignation. "Yes, I have guns," he admitted, his voice rough.
Frudi's gaze never wavered. "We're both in trouble, Dylan. We were followed here."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, the tension between them crackling with electricity. Dylan's eyes locked onto Frudi's, his mind racing with the implications.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.
Frudi's smile grew, her eyes glinting with a fierce light. "We need to get out of here, now. And we need to be careful. Very careful."
Dylan and Frudi got ready for danger. Dylan grabbed guns while Frudi took guns and extra bullets. They hid them to avoid suspicion from people around.
Next, they packed lunch together. Dylan had made spaghetti and chicken. Frudi smiled, impressed.
"Ready?" Frudi asked.
"Let's go," Dylan replied.
Frudi climbed out the window, Dylan following. Holding lunch and climbing was tricky, but they managed. It was a life or death thing after all.
At Frudi's car, Dylan's eyes widened again. The most unbelievable thing to Dylan was the ridiculously expensive car Frudi owns. "This car's worth 30 million dollars!"
Frudi smiled. "Get in."
As they drove, their pursuers chased them. Frudi focused on the road while Dylan ate and fed her.
"Your driving skills are amazing," Dylan said.
Frudi smiled. "Thanks."
They reached a deserted area. Frudi pulled over. "Time to take care of them."
They stepped out, guns ready. Frudi was a pro, hitting every target. Dylan was good too, but Frudi was better.
Some attackers came with knives. Dylan took charge, his combat skills impressive. Frudi watched, admiring.
After the fight, Frudi drove Dylan home. "Thanks for your help," Dylan said waving at Frudi as he entered his house.
"No problem," Frudi replied.
Back at the Rivera mansion, Frudi couldn't sleep. She thought about Dylan - his bravery, smile, and eyes.
"Why can't I stop thinking about him?" she screamed into her pillow. She was supposed to hate him, but why did she kiss him when she saw him. "Maybe I'm overreacting. I just wanted to get close to him and get info of their operation."
Frudi tossed and turned, her mind racing. She had never felt this way before.
As the night wore on, Frudi realized her feelings for Dylan went beyond her mission. She might be feeling more than that.
The darkness outside seemed to fade compared to the turmoil within her. Frudi knew she had to confront her emotions, but wasn't sure where to start.
With a sigh, Frudi closed her eyes, Dylan's face etched in her mind.
The next morning, Frudi's dad, Cisco, stormed into his office, his face thunderous. "Where's Frudi?" he barked.
Frudi's assistant nodded. "I'll get her, sir."
Frudi rushed to her father's office, quickly washing her face to remove the dried blood from yesterday's fight. She knocked on the door.
"Enter!" Cisco's voice boomed.
Frudi stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Cisco gestured for her to sit.
"What's this I hear about you being with Dylan Martinez yesterday?" Cisco's eyes narrowed.
Frudi knew her dad's informants were everywhere. She prepared her lie.
"Dad, I'm on a mission. I'm getting close to Dylan to gather intel on their operation."
Cisco's expression softened, trusting his daughter's words. "Be careful, Frudi. The Martinez family is ruthless."
Frudi nodded, hiding her true feelings. "I will, Dad."
But she couldn't resist asking, "Why do you hate Tristan Martinez so much?"
Cisco's face tensed, his jaw clenched. Frudi noticed but pressed on.
"Dad, what happened between you and Tristan?"
Cisco's silence was palpable. Frudi's curiosity grew.
"Tell me, Dad. What's going on?"
Cisco's voice was low, controlled. "It's business, Frudi. Nothing more."
Frudi sensed there was more, but her dad's stubbornness was impenetrable.
"Okay, Dad. But know this: I'll handle Dylan and the Martinez family."
Cisco's gaze pierced hers. "You're my daughter, Frudi. I won't let anyone harm you."
Frudi smiled, reassuring him. "I can take care of myself, Dad."
Cisco nodded, though his eyes still held concern.
As Frudi left the office, she wondered what secrets her dad kept hidden. The tension between her family and the Martinez family ran deeper than she knew.
Cisco's words echoed in her mind: "The Martinez family is ruthless." But Dylan didn't seem ruthless. He seemed kind, brave, and genuine.
Frudi's thoughts swirled, her loyalty torn between her family and her growing feelings for Dylan.