The plan was supposed to be simple.

I had attended countless galas, fancy parties, gatherings of the world's richest and most powerful crooks, and this auction at the Rossi Estate were meant to be no different. I had been reviewing the plan over and over again since I boarded the plane to Italy: enter the Estate, find the prize and figure out the auction lot order, outbid or steal, slip out before I was noticed. That's how it was supposed to be, but man did things go downhill.

The night started off just like any other potential heist (or collection, as my father preferred to say), I dressed for the part, would be extra charming, and would blend in with the sea of wealthy individuals. I had worn a red, seductive, backless dress (not my first choice of attire), which had fit somewhat uncomfortably on me. The dress had no support on my breasts; was too tight around my waist and bottom; and was very loose from my thighs down. The heels also felt too high, making my familiar gait become somewhat more calculated and unorthodox. But I counted my blessings that my legs weren't too restricted – if I needed to run or fight I still could freely. But this outfit wasn't exactly letting me blend in as easily as I would have liked. The red nail polish and crimson lipstick made me stick out like a sore thumb amongst crowds of tuxedos and simple dresses. I could feel the weight of everyone's eyes bearing down on me; I could just make out their audible whispers in Italian, questioning who I was and why I was alone. I presented myself as professionally as I could, and once I saw St. Dismas' Cross set up on the auction stand, I knew I could relax a bit more.

I went to scope out some champagne to calm my nerves and help me blend in… that moment is when things started to head south on this job.

I headed toward the upper floor, picking up the long, flowing skirt of my dress. I was hoping to get a better vantage point on possible escape routes in case this "collection" took a turn for the worst. I peered over the balcony, noticing nothing but crowds of people chit-chatting casually. I was started to grow a bit bored and anxious, wishing that the stupid auction would begin already so I could get on with my evening.

"Scusate, signoril." A unfamiliar voice chirped behind me.

I turned my head slightly to see the back of a waitress speaking with three men, dressed sharply in tuxes. When the waitress spoke they seemed a little spooked at first that someone else was speaking with them. I immediately grew suspicious that they were scheming something. I knew that jobs often came with competition, so I was always instructed to be on the look out for potential threats.

"Antipasti?" The waitress asked, holding up the silver platter.

I saw one of the men refuse (with slightly spiked up hair), and the other flirted shamelessly with her, taking some samples off the platter. The third man was an older silver-haired gentleman, and there was something very familiar with him, but I couldn't place a finger on it.

"Would you focus?" The first man gave the other one a quick shove on his arm.

"A waiter wouldn't get noticed," he pointed out, his eyes following the waitress with a sly smile spread on his face.

"Mi scusi, signora." The same waitress had come over to me now. I saw that other man still had his attention on her, and now his eyes fell on me. Great.

"Antipasti?"

I gave her my most pleasant smile I could muster up, pretending not to notice the three gentlemen watching me now.

"No, preferirei avere champagne." (No, I'd rather have champagne).

"Certo," she said with a nod.

I quickly turned my back away from the men, hoping their lingering stares would cease. I still thought about the older gentleman, I swore I'd recognized him but I couldn't recall it straight away. I waited for them to continue on with whatever they were speaking about earlier, but they had grown quiet.

"Excuse me, miss," I heard a gruff voice call behind me.

I felt my insides tighten at once. I pretended not to hear, but the voice hollered again. I knew if I kept on ignoring him, more people's attention would be drawn toward me. I turned around fully now to face him, putting on a forced smile.

"Sorry to bother you, but I feel like I recognize you from somewhere?" The older man asked.

"Jesus, Sully, really? She's kind of young isn't she?" I heard the spiky-haired man hiss toward him.

The other man that had flirted with the waitress said nothing, his eyes were keen on me, and he had that same allured grin on his face. The way he looked at me made me avert my eyes in embarrassment. I could feel my cheeks growing hot, much to my frustration. This isn't the kind of attention I wanted to attract, but I must admit I did feel slightly flattered.

"No l'inglese mi dispiace." I answered, coating my voice with a false sense of innocence, I hoped pretending I couldn't speak English would keep them off my trail.

The older man cocked an incredulous brow for a moment. I knew I didn't fool him, I could see it in his eyes. I stood there for a moment, feeling trapped like a deer in headlights; waiting for what he was going to do next. If my cover had been blown then I would have to most likely forget about collecting the cross.

Failure in my family was unacceptable.

"Sorry to have bothered you, ma'am," he dismissed, his lips pulled back into a coy smile.

I gave him a curt nod and retreated back toward the base of the stairs. I could feel sweat forming on my forehead and my heart racing uncomfortably in my chest. My mouth had gone bone-dry, and suddenly I was craving that champagne more than ever. The waitress had eventually made her way back, but it felt like an eternity. Those men were still watching me and mumbling secretively to themselves. They were up to something, which I knew for a fact.

Once I was back downstairs, I sipped my champagne tentatively, scanning the room for any more threats. The lot with the St. Dismas Cross sat out in the open, and took every urge in my body not to rush over and grab it. I had no idea what it was actually worth; I never really looked too much into my jobs. I was just given an agenda, the name, picture, and location of a collectable, and then I retrieved it. If those other men really were after it too, then I guessed it had to be worth something.

As I waited for the auction to start I spotted a familiar figure weaving his way amongst the crowd. That man with the slightly spiked hair from upstairs was sneaking around. The flirty one kept his distance behind him, followed by the older gentleman. I took another gulp from my champagne and started to tail them from behind, being sure to keep a safe distance away and appear busy with packs of crowds. I saw them stop at a large wooden door and struggle to get it open. I knew what they were thinking next: keycard. A waiter with a bottle of wine came out of the door, and I saw the men perk up instantly. I knew they were going to pickpocket the unsuspecting waiter. I faced away from them, taking another drink while pretending to talk to someone close to me. Before I knew it, I lost them in the crowd. I decided my best course of action would be to stand close toward the lot of the auction and wait for the best opportunity. I was curious and on edge with those men sneaking around, but as long as they weren't close to the cross at this moment I could relax. Or so I thought…

As if this night couldn't get any harder for me, Nadine and Rafe had to be here. One of my cousins had an unpleasant run in with Nadine back in the Philippines on a mission. As for Rafe, let's just say him and his father has been a rival to my family for a long time. Even more strange was that they were speaking to that old man from earlier. That's when I felt like throwing in the towel, there was no way I could compete financially with those two, especially Rafe. I took out my phone from my handbag (also obnoxiously red) and sent a text to my father.

Me: 'I just saw Rafe & Nadine'

Father: 'Do you think they want the cross?'

Me: 'Possible'

Father: 'Are they alone?'

I glanced back over toward them.I hoped they wouldn't catch me trying to snap a picture of them. The image was somewhat obstructed from other people, but I didn't want to risk getting closer. I sent the photo to my father, waiting nervously for his reply.

Father: 'Victor Sullivan is with them.'

'Keep watch, do everything you can to get the cross.'

'Forget about bidding.'

Me: 'Ok'

Victor Sullivan… if my father knew him then I knew I had to (or at least heard of him). I waited a few moments longer, watching the three talk somewhat stiffly at each other. The false smiles on their faces didn't hide the truth in their body language. Their conversation wasn't a positive one.

Before I knew it the auction had begun and I had no idea what to do. There was no way I could outbid Rafe, or this Sullivan character, so I started to drift into the shadows. The final countdown for five hundred thousand dollars started, and it looked like Rafe was going to be the highest bidder. As I made my way away from the crowd, I saw that flirty man from before, but he had changed his outfit. He was wearing a waiters outfit, standing close to the cross…

Shit… I knew what was coming next…

The lights went out, and cries of outrage immediately erupted from the crowd. I had missed my window of opportunity. I didn't wait for the lights to flash back on to know that the cross had been taken. I broke out into a run, following the direction that man was standing seconds before. I pushed past people, ignoring their smug looks of disapproval, and not caring if I was attracting attention now. That cross was my main priority, and I let it slip right from my grasp!

The lights kicked back in, and I found myself in a secluded room with large windows, and red velvet covering nearly every inch. The man was trying to open the window; the cross jutting out from the front of the waiter vest. I immediately sprang toward him, thrusting a rough roundhouse kick into his side. He exhaled in pain, and stumbled backward, appearing stunned. I had taken him by surprise, which was good. For the first time tonight I had the upper hand. I came at him again, opening my hand, curling my fingers back to strike him with the heel of my palm on his chin, but he evaded me by mere inches. He raised his hands, still appearing taken aback from the blow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on a second!" He rasped, bewildered.

I didn't let up; I needed that cross; it was only a matter of time before Rafe sent his goons looking for it. I lunged at him again, swinging my fists at him with calculated precision, but he was prepared now. I managed to get in one hit on his shoulder, but he gripped my arm and tried to push me back, but I pivoted my bottom foot and spun out of his grip. I chambered my knee up high for a crescent kick, aiming for his temple attempting to knock him unconscious. But the heels had caught on the carpet, making me stop my spin halfway. He saw me stumble, and then tried to make another break for it, but I leapt after him again. I gripped his shoulders, ready to use my weight to trap him in a submission.

"Jesus, lady!"

He struggled to twist awkwardly out of my grasp. His persistence was starting to annoy me. I gritted my teeth as I clung to him and fought against his attempts to break free. Eventually he got the idea to slam his back into the wall, crushing his weight into me. I felt the full impact and let go, sucking in air in a poor attempt to catch my breath. I stood up, this time seething from being thrust into the wall. He knew that I wasn't going to give up, as I went for him again, he gripped the bottom loose part of my dress and pulled. The fabric had wrapped around my legs and tripped me; I flopped over, hoping I wasn't too exposed. God, I really hated this dress…

"I'm not leaving without that cross!" I shouted in irritation. That was bad self control on my part, but I was quickly becoming impatient with this job.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "So you do speak English." He massaged his side, still sore from my kick.

I went for him again, chambering my fist for a fake-out punch, waiting for him to take the bait. As he brought up his arms to block, I spun quickly and got him on the cheek with a spinning back fist. He grunted in pain, stumbling back dizzily. I reached for the cross, but he slapped my hand away. He started to chuckle much to my surprise (and irritation).

"What's with you?" I huffed, not understanding what the hell could be so funny.

"You don't give up, lady!" He exclaimed, but his laughter was cut short. He pressed his hand to his ear for a moment. I could hear faint crackling from a speaker and a voice, but it was too low and inaudible for me to pick up. He had a damned earpiece in his ear.

"Sorry, gotta run!" He turned on his heel and headed for the window again. I raced toward him, reaching out my hand to catch his vest, but I missed. He climbed up to the roof and was making his escape. I couldn't follow him; I wasn't as talented at scaling walls.

I removed my heels and dashed out of the room. The other guests had already started evacuating once I left the room; they seemed panicked as Rafe's men rushed around the entire estate, wielding weapons as if they were on a battlefield. I followed the crowd outside, but didn't head toward the lot full of Ferraris. I made my way around the perimeter of the estate, determined to get that cross. I don't know how long I searched, but gunshots rang and echoed out of the building as if a massacre was going on inside. This little cross was valuable enough for these men to risk dying for. I looped back around and found a window left ajar near one of the estate's many great halls. I leapt in, only to be introduced by one of Rafe's men. He whipped his AK-47 around, pointing the barrel directly at me. My hands shot in the air, pleading for him not to shoot me. He gripped me by the front of my dress and tossed me to the ground, yelling obscenities at me in Italian. I peered fearfully up at him, as his gun remained aimed at my head. His finger tightened around the trigger, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

BANG!

My eyes clenched shut. The sound of a gun firing was followed by a heavy THUD soon followed. I slowly opened my eyes to find Rafe's man dead before me. Another body towered over me; I looked up fearfully, only to find the flirty man staring down at me, a pistol in his hand. He had a puce colored bruise already forming on his face from where I hit him. The cross was still stuffed at the front of his shirt, though the vest was long gone.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" He extended his arm to help me up.

I eyed him suspiciously. Why would a man I attacked save my life and help me? I hesitantly placed my hand in his. His hands felt rough and calloused, but warm as his fingers wrapped around mine. He hoisted me up, giving me an exasperated smile. The other man with the spiked hair came around a corner then. When he saw me he slowed his pace. My eyes fell back on the cross again. It was right within my reach, but I wasn't about to pull a stunt like that with two men holding guns next to me (not to mention this man just saved my life).

"Easy, Nate, it's okay," the man eased. "She's a little feisty, but I think she's harmless."

My eyes shot over to him. I clenched my fists, feeling infuriated. "Harmless? I was kicking your ass just a few minutes before!"

Nate frowned at me, ready to raise his gun. He still didn't trust me, but that was fine, I didn't trust him either. The other man kept his cool, that stupid annoying (and charming) smile still on his face. He lowered his hands, giving Nate the signal to lower his gun. I heard the earpiece crackle again. Whoever was on the other line was growing impatient.

"Sam, we've got to keep moving." Nate had already started to step back, heading toward the exit.

"I'm not going anywhere without that cross!" I shouted, getting his attention. Right as I stepped forward the door burst open, followed by another swarm of Rafe (and possibly Nadine's) men came flooding in. I had no choice but to brace myself and follow this "Sam" and "Nate's" lead.