Deal With The Devil
569 Words
The glass was almost at her lips. Two drops of poison, colourless, odorless and undetectable in the liquid.
One sip of it and two hours later, she’d end up dead.
That was the plan
Paying the strippers to be part of their performance was the fastest way to get close to her and accomplish my mission but she made it all too easy for me by booking that private dance.
In the private room with her, I could see her whole body trembling when I touched her like she hadn’t been touched in years.
Just as she was about to press the drink to her lips, my handler, Silas, spoke to me through my AirPods to pause the mission
I immediately took the glass from her and poured the contents over my chest, and she thought it was part of the act, not knowing she almost drank herself to her own death.
Just in case Silas needed me to complete the job subsequently, I left a card with my number on it and with how harsh her breathing was and the desire in her eyes, I doubted it would go unused
One of my burner phones buzzed on my table, dragging me from my thoughts, and I knew exactly who it was even before seeing the number
“We’ve got new orders. You need to get close to Raina Cole and find out some accounts and vital information about her company. I’ll send you the details.” He always spoke steadily, his voice was never raised nor in a rush
“Get close, how?” I asked
“You’ll improv,” he said. “You’re the best at improvising. Get in. Get it.”
He didn’t wait for my response before he hung up.
Just as I was thinking of a way, her call came in on a phone I had specifically reserved for the number I gave her on the card
I’d memorized her face from photos, even watching her discreetly from a distance. But the photos did no justice to how she looked seeing her up close.
That night at the club, I didn’t let myself think she was beautiful, but meeting her at the rooftop with bright lights grazing her skin, the wind in her coily red hair and that quiet defiance in her eyes, I couldn’t deny it… yeah, she was beautiful.
I exhaled, clearing the thought. She was just a spoiled billionaire—just another target like all the others.
Her proposal to be her fake boyfriend aligned perfectly with my plans. She thought money bought everything. It always amused me when people thought that. She had no idea what she had given away by agreeing to that favor
I had watched interviews of her on shows and read about her on blogs enough to know she had backed out of her wedding and was no longer interested in a romantic relationship
She had said couldn’t be moved by a man even if God himself dropped out of heaven shirtless.
She wore pride and control like an armor. But armors cracked eventually, they just needed the right person.
Did I want to be the one holding that hammer?
I hadn’t had real fun in months. Just jobs, blood, silence.
Maybe I’d enjoy proving to her that her thought of control was just an illusion. An illusion that won’t survive long before I ended her
- Writer
