The Pink Pistol [Girlxgirl]

Chapter 1

For the full viewer experience, you can also check out The Pink Pistol playlist on Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/user/aiadwacc/playlist/1wjAO1BIL1pKFGEBtCr57g

(Daisy's POV)

What do you think of when you see the colour pink?

Do you think of newly blossomed springtime flowers with pretty delicate petals and a fragrance like that of your favourite perfume? Perhaps the colour reminds you of the innocent blush in a baby's cheeks, or of the sugary sweet flavour of fairground candy floss in summer. For many, pink is a symbol of a sort of euphoric love, the kind where everything is hazy and happy and smiley and overwhelmingly sickening to onlookers.

Point is, whatever comes to mind when you see it, pink is not usually a colour that inspires negativity or caution. You see pink and you instantly feel relaxed; safe. Because flowers and baby blush and candy floss aren't dangerous. In fact, they're harmless, welcoming even.

Pink equals trust.

So when a girl rocks up at your front door clad in a knee-length pink dress, and she flashes her pretty pink smile your way, you're going to let her in. At least, that's what Nicholas James did, and it was the biggest mistake of his life.

"You're early." He observed absently as he looked me up and down, hungry eyes lingering on the cleavage I had purposely made especially prominent that night.

Nick was a very predictable man. The three things he valued most were money, sex, and power - much like most of the men I had experienced in my life thus far. But a predictable man is a man easily played, which of course made my job a hell of a lot more straightforward.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" I asked sweetly, making a point to rub my arms. "It's freezing out here."

"My apologies. Come on in." Nick moved to the side and held the door open for me as I stepped off the porch and into his house. It had been clear from the outside that his house was big, though not quite as big as some I'd encountered over the years. Inside, however, it became obvious just how much Nick liked to flaunt his wealth.

As he led me through the house, we passed several glass cabinets filled with an array of priceless ornaments, gems and artifacts. Upon closer inspection, it seemed even the wallpaper had a golden tint to it, and as we entered the dining room the first thing I spotted was a tiger skin rug beneath the grand piano in the corner. I almost rolled my eyes. Such extravagances had always been wasted on me; a transparent attempt to prove just how deep someone's pockets were.

It was all very well for him to go around showing off his life of luxury, but I was willing to bet most of the girls he brought home never heard just how he made all that money.

"You look beautiful tonight." Nick pulled a chair out for me at the table, upon which there were already two full plates, two glasses of wine, and an assortment of dishes, spreads and foods. I doubted he made a single thing himself.

"Thank you." I accepted his compliment with faux grace and a shy smile as I took a seat and waited for him to take his place in the chair opposite my own.

"You know Daisy, I have to be honest, I was surprised when you asked me to dinner." Nick confessed as he tucked a napkin into his shirt.

"Not used to a girl making the first move?" I asked with a raised brow.

"Well, there's that." He smiled. "But I'm referring more to the fact that you've never really showed an interest in me before. Whenever you've met with myself or my boss, you're all business and no pleasure."