Constance thought she could finally stop looking over her shoulder. She has a steady job as a hairstylist, rents a small apartment next door to her best friend, and keeps a routine that distracts her just enough to not have to dwell on her past.
All...
Her glossy eyes appear almost glass with the amount of alcohol coursing through her blood. She gives me a smile that I am not unfamiliar with.
"What's your name? I am Olivia Mathers." She holds onto my shirt more forceful than before.
"Anton Brooks."
"How much are you for the night, Anton?" Her free hand traveling up my torso.
This was not part of the plan but I suppose I can improvise. "Make me an offer I can't refuse."
Her eyes widen and then a mischievous look crosses her face. "Maybe we should talk privately?"
I nod and let her lead me to the staircase. Along the way I discard my bowtie and green jacket and unbutton my top button. The look I'm going for is 'already made it to third base, hoping for a homerun'. Her drunk state and already wrinkled dress tell a similar story.
Olivia hands me a glass of champagne as we walk now arm in arm. Her blonde hair occasionally slaps my shoulder almost as often as she stumbles.
"Keep up, hot stuff." She says while tripping up the steps.
The guards make no attempt to stop us once we reach the top. Eagerly, she pulls me down the hall and I can't help but compare her to Constance. Her hand feels all wrong in mine and she isn't leading me, she's pulling. Olivia backs me into a room that I've been in a few times with whichever escort I had that night.
Desperately I look around for a reason to leave or a way out of her vice grip. The room is dark except for a lamp beside the bed. Her one hand that isn't on my arm is holding onto the door refusing escape.
"Don't be nervous." She sings out.
Obviously my nerves have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with leaving her for the files. If I have to forcefully incapacitate her, I will.
"I just think that we need ice."
"Ssh." She puts her finger on my lips and I instantly notice her hand smells strongly of cleaning product. "Don't worry Luca, we can make it a quicky."
"I don't. . ."
Wait.
She called me Luca.
From behind her skirt, she pulls out a knife and sticks it to my throat. I purposely drop my glass and gulp. I don't want to embarrass her by disarming her just yet. Plus I found that when people think they have the upper hand, they are more likely to divulge information willingly.
"What do you want?"
She slowly looks me over as if still debating that quicky. "I want the bounty."
I don't speak and I don't move.
Her free hand roams my body and I stiffen. She runs her fingers over my chest, down to my crotch. I look away from her but she rubs against my dick a few times, going as far as squeezing it, making me groan in slight pain until she decides to find and discard my weapons across the room.
Satisfied that I am unarmed and uncomfortable, she continues.
"Coincidentally, I was just looking at a list of bounties and when I glance up, there you were, serving drinks." Her knife digs into my throat.
I pretend to grimace in pain but all that I can think of is how deepin trouble I am. If my bounty is up for any spy to grab, even internally, I'll have more to deal with. If I survive the night, I might not survive the week.
"You're worth eight million and now that I get a good look at you, I see why. Hard muscles, nice beard growing, sharp jawline, large package... I know several women who would pay that just to touch you. But you have pissed off some very scary people who could make me some very strong allies."
"Who?"
"Don't play coy with m-"
A gun shot went off and Olivia, or whatever her name really was, fell to the ground in a puddle of her own blood.
A shadow stepped out with the silver gun still pointed in my direction. I can't see the person other than he's wearing an expensive suite and has a gold Rolex. Had the gun not had a silencer on it, I'm sure guards would have stormed in.
"Rubio?"
I know that voice.
"Handle?"
The gun lowers and he steps into the glowing light by the lamp. Donovan Handle in all of his glory steps around the furniture and gives me a hug- an actual hug- which is awkward and unwelcomed but I know better than to push the man with a gun away.
"It's so good to see you man!" He awkwardly squeezes my bicep. "What is this? Muscles? You been working out!"
"Running for your life will do that to you."
For a long while we just look at each other. He still has that ridiculous smirk plastered onto his face and the same hair dresser apparently.
"Come on, lets go to my office and talk. Its not safe here." He looks down and the corps that dragged me in here.
"Why did you shoot her? I could have easily disarmed her without hurting her."
He opens the door and gestures me to follow behind him instead of answering me. We walk the long distance to his office. It's at the very end of the opposite side of his house. If his home weren't a mansion our commute would have been quicker. The guards who were everywhere were suddenly gone and truth be told, none of this made any sense to me. Handle was in the room the entire time and decided to wait to kill Olivia. Everything feels planned like I'm walking, not to his study for a chat, but to my death.
Noticing my uneasiness, Don smiled wider attempting to cool my nerves but it only reminded me of a ravenous wolf.
"Right this way." He nods to a door. "I hope you don't mind some company. I met this lovely flower earlier and just had to have her."
He swung the door open to reveal a woman sitting in a corner chair looking like a Queen.
Not just any woman.
Constance.
*** I don't care what you say, I don't trust Donovan even if I'm my mind his character is played by my husband, Chris Pratt.
*Just offended my actual husband*
Oops, sorry you had to find out like this babe but. . .Chris is my beau.
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