Seduce Me Or Kill Me

SILVER The night was cool, and the air smelled like expensive perfume. My black high heels clicked against the smooth pavement as I stepped out of the car. The driver held the door open for me but kept his eyes down, smart enough not to look at me The velvet gown I wore caught the golden lights from the Grand Delacroix Gallery. It hugged my body perfectly, low at the front, high slit up one leg, and thin black gloves covered my arms all the way above my elbows. A silver mask hid the top half of my face, making my cheekbones look even sharper. I had to perfect my look for what I wanted to do tonight. I paused at the bottom of the grand staircase. I could feel everyone's stares on me. The rich, the bored, and the powerful. Men in expensive tuxedos, women dripping in diamonds, all their eyes locked on me. I didn’t walk up those stairs, I owned them. Each step I took was slow, smooth, powerful like a queen entering her court. A waiter in a neat black mask gave me a glass of champagne. I took it without looking at him, never losing my stride. I did not need to be told the way because I felt the energy in the room, pulling me straight to the man I had come to find and there he was. My prey Lucien Vexley. An oil tycoon. A dealer in unique pieces of art, and a man who thought he owned the world. His navy-blue mask couldn't hide the way he stood like he already possessed everything in the room. He stood by a painting rumored to be stolen, laughing loudly, drink in his hand. I stopped a few steps away, bringing my glass to my lips. My breath hitched when his eyes met mine, mid-laugh. He froze, and I saw it, the exact moment when he noticed my presence. I took a sip of champagne and walked towards him, my steps slow, graceful, and deadly. "Do you always laugh that loudly," I asked with a bare smile, "or are you trying to scare the art away?" The people who stood around him laughed. Lucien also smiled back at me, sharp and curious. "And do you always come in like a hurricane? Or am I just lucky tonight?" "Perhaps you are," I said, tilting my head. "What's the starting bid for your ego?" Behind him, one of the investors laughed loudly, and Lucien’s smile twitched, just for a second. I had landed the first hit. We circled each other with words, sharp and smooth, both of us trying to outplay the other. He was a hunter but he didn’t know that I was something far worse. "You've got quite a big mouth," Lucien said, his voice low as he stared at my lips. "I bet it gets you into a lot of trouble." "Only with men who think they can handle me," I replied, letting my finger trace the rim of my champagne glass. "They usually find out they can’t most of the time." He chuckled deep in his throat. "And what are you here for tonight? The art or the egos?" "Oh, the egos," I said sweetly. "They're so much easier to break." "That's a game, you shouldn't play, sweetheart, " he said while moving closer. I leaned in, close enough for him to feel my breath. "Only for men who overestimate themselves." The lights in the gallery dimmed all of a sudden, catching our attention. It dimmed soft and slow, until only the stage at the front stayed bright. A low hush spread across the crowd, like a heavy blanket being laid over the room. Voices were left hanging in mid-air. Champagne flutes were placed down. All faces turned forward. The auctioneer, a thin man in a black suit that was immaculately pressed, stepped onto the stage. He cleared his throat and fiddled with the microphone, his movements smooth and practiced. I bid on two small pieces first, pretending to be just another rich collector. Then came the real treasure: a black oil painting named "Mercy in Ruin." It wasn’t just a painting, it was a message. One only a few in the room, who aren't upper class snobs who knew nothing about art, would understand. The bidding opened at half a million. "Seven hundred," someone shouted. "One million," I cried out, my tone stern, garnering attention. Lucien’s eyes gleamed behind his mask. "One point two." "One point five." "Two million." "Three," I said coolly, lifting my paddle without hesitation. Whispers filled the room. Lucien's smile faltered slightly. He knew I was not another pretty face.I was a player now. Too bad for him, I always take what I desire. "Four million," he challenged. "Five." There was silence. Lucien glared at me. For a moment, something dark flickered in his eyes, something deadly. Then he smiled gently, applauded once, and nodded. "Sold." Women and men applauded but Lucien glared at me differently now. He had underestimated me, right now, I was now someone more dangerous than himself. Later, after the auction finished, a little party was thrown and music filled the room. I don't do parties but champagne was in excess and so I stayed, Lucien found me again. His smile was wide. Charming but careful now. "You know," he said, standing close, "most women try to impress me. You're the first to try to roast me alive." I took slows sip of champagne. "Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t have to try." He laughed, real this time. "God, it’s been a while since someone had the guts to insult me so sweetly." "Maybe you’ve been around the wrong kind of women," I said. "Or the wrong kind of danger," he replied, and he suddenly took my hand "Dance with me." I placed my glass down and allowed him lead the way without saying a word. The music shifted to something slow and rich. Violins and a deep piano wrapped around us as he pulled me into the center of the room. His hand rested against the small of my back. Warm. Heavy. Possessive. But I didn’t let him lead. We moved together like a game of chess, each step, each glance, calculated. Every brush of fabric, every flick of his fingers, was a challenge made in silence. "You smell like trouble," he whispered near my ear. "That’s because I am," I whispered back, my fingers brushing lightly up his shoulder. "But you seem like the type who loves trouble." "Maybe I like getting burned," he said. I flashed him a slow, wicked grin. "Then you’re standing in front of the right fire." He laughed, low and rich with something very dark. "You could ruin a man," he growled, his voice raw. "That’s the point," I whispered, stopping just close enough to feel his breath. The dance blurred into something hotter, and heavier. The room faded away until it was just him and me, two predators circling each other, both thinking they were in control. He leaned in closer. "Come home with me," he murmured. "Let’s see if you’re fire or just smoke." I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "Lucien," I said softly, "you have no idea what you’ve just invited." But he only smiled, confident as ever. Fool. But it's fair, typical all men when they see a pretty face. --- His estate sat high in the hills, made of glass and steel, watching the city lights below like a god looking down on his kingdom. The car ride was silent but he played a song, probably to set a mood. Inside, the penthouse was just as cold and sharp as the man himself. Lucien threw off his mask and poured himself a glass without offering me a drink. He turned to face me, no longer smiling. "You’re quite clever," he said, his voice colder now. "Too clever. You humiliated me tonight." I raised one eyebrow. "Because you lost to a woman?" "No," he said, stepping closer. "Because you made me appear weak." The warmth in his voice was gone. Replaced by something vile. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard enough to hurt. "You think you can humiliate me and just walk into my front door like you own the place?" he hissed. I looked down at his hand, then back up into his angry eyes. "No," I said calmly. "I think you’re about to do something really stupid." He pulled out a knife, a beautiful, shining blade, it isn't your regular kitchen knife and he was holding it like someone who has done this before. The knife was too beautiful for him to be holding it so I'd probably end up with it in the end anyway. Some of the benefits that comes with the job. I sighed. This is sure a bore Then I moved. In a flash, I twisted his wrist, the knife flying from his hand. My elbow slammed into his throat and he stumbled back, gasping. Before he could recover, I kicked him as hard as I could, and he crashed into the glass coffee table, shards flying everywhere as it broke under him. He lay there, coughing, blood on his lip. "W-who are you?" he stuttered. I pulled a bobby pin from my hair, letting my curls tumble down. I stepped over him, calm and cold. "Silver," I whispered. "Yeah, I know it's a bit of a cliche." He reached under the couch, maybe for a gun but he was damn too slow. I stamped on his hand with my shoe, crushing his bone. I could feel the bones break beneath my foot and he screamed with a high piercing scream. Weak for a man who had been trying to kill me seconds ago. I didn’t blink. From the strap at my thigh, I pulled a small dagger. The dagger wasn’t to impress no one but to give the final blow to my prey. I knelt beside him, pressing the tip of the blade just under his chin. "I wasn’t sent to flirt with you, Lucien," I said in a soft voice. "But you are lucky that a beautiful woman would be the last thing you would ever see before you die." "Why?" he choked. "Who sent you?" I smiled. "You smuggled children with your art shipments," I murmured, pressing the dagger a little deeper. "You sold innocent people for money, and lastly you crossed someone who likes to hold a grudge" His lips opened in a last, desperate protest but it was useless because it was not going to make a difference. He tried to yell again, but I silenced him with a quick thrust. Clean, deep and straight through the heart. He twitched once, and then nothing. Eventually, fire always consumes its victim, and I was always the flame. I stood up, wiping the blood clean from my blade with the edge of his expensive rug, then tucked it back into the sheath strapped to my thigh. One last look at Lucien’s lifeless body and I turned away. No emotion, no regret, just another job done. “Target down. Location is secure. Send cleanup.” “Copy that,” came the reply. I walked around the body, opened the window, and gazed out over the glittering city. My reflection in the glass was still perfect—lips as red as blood, hair cascading like darkness. The team behind me would be there soon. They always were. I was out the back door before they ever showed up. I didn't need to wait. Ten minutes thereafter, I was standing outside a heavy wooden door. It opened before I could knock. My boss was sitting at a long table, a glass of scotch in front of him. He nodded, pleased. "Was he as arrogant as the file described?" "Worse." "Did you have fun?" I grinned, slow and wicked. "Immensely." "Good." He stood up, walked over to me, and handed me a file. "There's another job for you." My heart leapt. "Another target?" He shrugged. "Client hates him. You think you're up for it?" I tucked the file under my arm and turned on my heel, leaving. My stilettos clicked against marble as I left. “I always am.”