Tawny found herself straddled on both sides by surly security men in the back seat of a limousine.

Dylan sat in the row of seats directly across from her, looking at his phone while snacking from a glass that held cocktail shrimp. He was bobbing his head to the music of his oversized headphones.

"You won't get away with this," threatened Tawny. No response. Tawny repeated herself, a little bit louder, "I SAID, you won't get away with--"

"What's that?" said Dylan, lifting an ear away from his headphones.

Tawny sighed and fell back into her seat. "Never mind..." she muttered.

----------------------------------------

The limousine pulled up to a pair of massive gates; there was a brief pause, then the gates slowly opened allowing the vehicle onto the grounds.

Tawny craned her neck to peer out the tinted windows as they approached what appeared to be a castle. It wasn't until they pulled right up alongside the building did she realize it wasn't a castle at all - IT WAS DYLAN'S HOME.

"Oh my God," she blurted, both in amazement and horror. "You actually live here?"

Dylan didn't respond (he was still wearing the headphones), and the brawny men followed after him as he exited the limousine.

Each held onto one of Tawny's arms as they practically carried her out of the limo and into the establishment without her feet ever touching the ground.

Along the way, she spied the garage off to the side; the open garage showed off a sportscar similar to the one that almost mowed her off the road the other day.

As she "floated" into Dylan's not-so-humble abode, she marveled at the high ceilings and elaborate architecture of the front lobby area.

Initially, she thought the doors opened automatically, but it was actually a pair of Dylan-tantes who opened each side of the door without uttering a word.

The thugs didn't put her down until she was in a vast, dimly-lit parlour room whose surface area far surpasses that of her own childhood home.

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The theme of the room was "hunter parlour meets wood grain". She was plopped on a brown leather sofa with as much grace as a burlap sack full of rice.

Dylan had already situated himself in front of a roaring fireplace. The headphones were finally removed from his head; Dylan turned his head slowly and smiled at Tawny.

Tawny blushed in spite of herself. "He's kinda cute... " she thought.

But all thoughts of attraction were quashed the second Dylan opened his mouth. "So...Tawdry...."

"It's Tawny," she corrected him.

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Really? Are you sure? I swear I heard some of the other girls call you Tawdry."

"I know my own name," Tawny said through gritted teeth.

"Huh," Dylan said, looking genuinely surprised. "Alright, then..."

"What do you want?"

"I'm SO glad that you asked," said Dylan. "But first..."

He clapped his hands together twice. Suddenly, a teenage girl dressed in a French Maid uniform appeared in the room, carrying a large circular tray which contained delicate finger pastries, a China teapot and two China mugs.

The girl set the tray on the table in front of Tawny and proceeded to pour tea into one of the mugs.

"Uh..." Tawny was unsure whether she should thank the girl or ask her if she was in need of rescuing. She never got the chance; the girl poured the tea into the second mug and brought it over to Dylan, then bowed and quickly retreated from the room.

Dylan took a sip from his mug, then set it on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. "Let's get down to business," he said. "It's obvious you have something I want..."

"I have something you want?" Tawny repeated with incredulity.

"That's right...and I something that you undoubtedly want. I want to have my way and have my best friend as my partner for the English project and you...well, isn't it obvious?"

"Excuse me?" said Tawny, choking on her indignation rather than her tea.

"Which is why I'd like to compensate you for your co-operation. Let's put this whole ugliness behind us and move on with our lives, okay?"

One of Dylan's burly security duty carrying a metal suitcase entered the room and stood beside Tawny on the couch.

Without a word, he unclicked the suitcase and opened it, revealing several stacks of cash. Tawny could not fathom the amount of money contained in the suitcase, but she counted 20 $1000 bills on the top layer alone.

The suitcase was set on the table in front of a speechless. "I...I don't know what to say..."

"I know, I know," Dylan said, congratulating himself.

"What I meant to say is...I don't know what else to say...except in what universe did you think you could buy me off?"

Dylan smile immediately dropped. "This is free money, no strings attached. Don't be a fool; just take it."

"I'd be a fool to accept anything you have to offer. Take me home, Mr. Westinghouse."

Dylan leered at Tawny. "Chalmers!" He barked. "Please escort Miss Matthews off the premises and return her to Ivoree Gates."

"And if it's alright with you, I'd prefer to walk on my own two feet," said Tawny, who abruptly stood up and made her way to the doors of the parlour room.

When Tawny had exited, Dylan growled in rage and kicked the open suitcase off the table, strewing loose dollar bills that rained down to the floor.