"Excuse me, may I join you?" Snapping the book shut as if caught like a deer in headlights to see a man in his mid forties looking down at me. Frowning at the stranger invading my space. Not waiting, he occupies the empty space beside me having me roll my eyes behind my shades. Rude as much.
"I believe you need to be acknowledge rather than rudely barge into my space. Who are you?"
Flashing his ID holding the CIA logo. My heart thumps and not the good kind seeing the CIA agent beside me wearing a cocky grin. Don't fuck it up, T. Play cool.
"I am special agent Thompson. Bryan Thompson, but you can call me Bryan." Reaching behind me for my lemonade just to quench my sudden dry lips and prepare for the lie that live at the tip of my tongue getting into act.
Sipping and smiling. "And what can I do for you today, Mr Thompson?" Fear is an illusion, Andrei's mum always says. Never let your eyes give you away in times of danger for the eyes are the windows to the soul.
He smirks looking ahead of him with me joining caressing my lemonade cup. "Good, I have your attention."
"You are not that subtle. I sensed you back from my home so cut the act. I'm smarter than you." A grin appears on my lips.
"Never intended it to be." He faces me crossing a leg leisurely.
"What do you want Mr CIA?" Smiling on the outside and super tensed on the inside masking it off like the pro I am. "I have nothing to hide for a man of the law to hold against me and you have nothing on me; so what can I do for you?"
Impressed, he chuckles fishing out a file dropping it beside me. "True. True." He pauses, shuffling the content in the file that piques my curiosity. "Yet, it seems you have connections with these powerful men."
My eyes lands on the photo of Michael, Uncle and my men. Shit.
He comments taking my gaze to him. "Few nights ago we lost one of our russian intel. Ever heard of someone disapppear into thin air. No trace, nothing."
Andrei. Oh, Andrei. What have you done? Face poker enjoying my drink. "None that I know of. Have you?"
Pointing at the picture. "Then, uncle, the big club owner and supposedly your boss spring out of the blue selling his club to no other than the Russians whom are of past acquaintance to me. There was a gunshot and surprisingly no one died or did the body bury itself?"
He smirks knowing he have me there.
If he expects me to rat my men out to him then he must be the joker of the century.
Taking off my glass squinting at the brightness, my hand goes for my sunhat to comb through my curls. Shrugging. "I guess business was not going as well as it was. People go bankrupt you know. Sad times, the struggle is real."
"Sad times indeed, Miss Trinity. How did you come to know Michael Monroe?"
Throwing my hand in the air as if swiping a pesky fly or bee. "Met at an art gallery opening. Things got heated up, you know." Saying with a flirty tone. "And there we are as close pals." He watch me intently looking for as much as a flop. Dramatically rubbing my thighs moaning a bit for a stretch.
"What are you driving at Mr Thompson? That I'm an accomplice to the death of the Russian intel whom I do not know." Looking him in the eye.
Sassing. "Might I remind you, I am a stripper; probably wasn't stated in your golden file." His smiles goes upsidedown causing my grin to grow wider. "You snobby folks call us exotic dancers, yeah? I don't know what you want or need to hear but I'm just a stripper; a well paid stripper." Looking at my body feeling his eyes follow suite.
Laughing. "Probably, if you come to the club I could give you a dance...or more." Taking a long sip out from my straw cup flirting dangerously with him. His eyes rakes my body slowly looking at me in a familiar lust, hiking a leg over the other giving him something to dream of because that's all he will ever do. Dream of my body he will never have.
Agent sir coughs snapping out of the trance making me smile triumphant. "The russians? The mafia?"
Waving it off. "I lived with the Russians my whole life and consider them as family seeing as they basically raised me up and I have not a clue about mafia. Like I said, I'm just a stripper."
"I have four men with the third as an alibi fawning over you." He pries further.
Moaning, flexing my neck hearing the sweet snap that tell me I'm now in control of the situation. I caress my neck not without grazing my breasts that threaten to spill out of my dress due to the tightness of the petal gown I have on knowing his eyes are on me.
Picking back my lemonade cup taking a sip. "Can't say, or is it a crime to be beautiful?" Daring his eyes with a smile.
He says bitterly picking up the file. "Proud and arrogant, just like the Ivanovs. I see the raised you well enough."
Oh, they did. Smiling. "I beg to defer knowing I possess the right amount of confidence because I know I am beautiful, Mr Bryan Thompson; if not, why will four powerful like you say want a stripper like me." Sitting up fixing my dark glass over my eyes.
Grinning with confidence. "I am beautiful, Mr Thompson, and I know you can attest to it seeing your eyes is all over me. Now, if you will please excuse me my family needs me more than this unprecedented meeting."
Sashaying out of his presence a pleasant smile dancing on my face.
Trinity 1- Agent 0
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TRINITY |18+
ChickLit[MATURE CONTENT] Everyone tends to outgrow their childhood memories as they become adults but not Trinity. The Ivanov sons are the living memory who breathes and walks to her terror and against her utmost desires she desperately needs but denies her...
