BILLIONAIRE'S ACCIDENTAL THIEF

Kal was distracted. The warehouse looked to be especially busy that evening, seeing as he'd been hauling large carton boxes almost twice his size into the delivery trucks that came and went without a break. The large warehouse was a very wide space tinted brownish red, and had boxes stacked one on top the other to make ten steps each of cosmetic products awaiting shipments to its left and right. The workers came and went time and time again, downing black overalls and matching hiking boots. However, Kal could not be perturbed. He had bigger issues in mind. He'd worked here a little over a year, and his tiny wage was just about enough to feed his stomach and pay his rent. Definitely not worth it for this disaster of a job. If only they could afford to pay minimum wage, he would gladly accept the name "Cargo boy", like Kiara called him. Kiara. He couldn't contain his own excitement and nerves at the thought of her name. She'd been with him a long time, now don't get him wrong be

The first time Kiara had seen the man flip had been awful, and it was at Miss Blondie Locks at the counter. Maybe she had not the slightest idea of why she would act like a spoiled child in front of a flirty customer; but ignorance, they said, was bliss. She blinked repeatedly, first to hold back worse tears from pouring and second, to avoid the bald man's menacing eyes. She stepped out of the counter and into the female staff bathroom. She was disgusted with herself. Sure she'd been insulted many times before, but today the humiliation felt worse than a thousand needles helplessly piercing her skin. She gripped the sink, feeling the bile rise higher in her throat. Her clothes were stained and sticky, and so were her undergarments. She soon took off her baseball hat before turning on the tap, splashing some of the running water on her face. The eye bags had eased a little, still heavily pigmented nonetheless. She took off her apron first, then the tennis shirt and placed it under

Posh, prim and proper. Just like the numerous princes of England, the honey blond man stood at a less than flattering height. He wasn't a short man, not at all. He was just not tall, as tall as the man at the receiver. The flattering thing about him however, was his groomed stubble, his straight, tall nose bridge and round sharp eyes glistening a flaming almost turquoise colour under the rays of sunlight that escaped into the room through the open window blinds. This man wore regular sized rectangular spectacles with silver frames to aid his minus eight vision, the only 'flaw' in his appearance. In his opinion, every twat that thought he looked odd with his frames could as well go and fuck themselves. He didn't look odd, he looked every bit as hot as the man at the receiver. "Yes sir, we'll be receiving a new placement tomorrow morning like you ordered." He spoke into his phone, talking to the deep voiced individual at the other end. The man's expression seemed to shift for a seco