Then it Became Personal «JokerxReader»

Chapter 1: Dirty Business

        Tension could be felt exerting off each of your coworkers like exhaust billowing off of a running car. Even you, the typical calm-and-collected, nervously tapped your fingers on the brown wood in front of you as your boss paced back and forth in front of the long table.

        "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he spat under his breath, his silver neck tie coming undone with each brisk step.

        Honestly, he had every reason to be scared as shitless as he was being as he had impulsively done business with The Joker even after you had urged him not to make deals with a mob boss who held the infamous name as The Clown Prince Of Crime.

        Unfortunately, your boss didn't heed your warning, and now here you were, bills piled into stacks, and not half a cent was paid to the Joker.

        The mob boss sent an email to the company early this morning, reminding us that his "services" had still not been paid, so a meeting with him was going to be held tonight, 9 P.M. sharp to "settle" this misunderstanding. We all knew what this meant, and "no" was not an answer to give to the Joker

        Admittedly, the service your boss had drunkenly paid for was for the Joker to "take care" of our competitors, aka burning their manufacturing buildings to the ground, so our sales would boost. Needless to say, it was a deed too far out of our price range. The irony was enough to make you scoff.

        "McKenny, you know as well as I do that this sick bastard will do anything to murder those we love if we don't pay him what he wants," the bald man who stiffly stood near your boss warned crossly. "Next in command" you liked to call him, but, in all honesty, he was just the sober one of the two; the one holding the business together.

        Finally, McKenny came to an abrupt stop to look his employees in the eyes, taking what the bald man said into consideration. You took notice of how his potbelly was heaving so hard that it nearly touched the table from where he leaned on it. Taking the decorative, silver handkerchief from his coat pocket, he dabbed at the sweat accumulating around his thick brows and neck. He stood there slightly bouncing on his palms in silence momentarily, weighing his choices before speaking, "We're going to have to improvise tonight. I need more time...it's just that the money..." He trailed off.

        Being one of the accountants, you knew the company was suffering, which is probably why your boss went on a drunken, impulsive rampage and contacted the Joker.

       And, boy, did the mob boss have a reputation for feeding off of weakness (one quality McKenny was cursed with--weakness). Although you'd never seen the clown, the stories were enough to keep your curiosity at bay. A psychopath, some would call him, getting off to murdering and playing mind games, or some would simply describe him as a dickhead with a great sense for business. You didn't want to know which one he truly was, you didn't want to get involved with a man who would have no problem holding a knife to your throat just to feel your heart beat uncontrollably. But here you were, in a hopeless situation incapable of fixing, created by the one and only, Yours Truly, boss. Anger built up in your hands as you tapped the table harder; you were half tempted to backhand the bulbous man to the floor.

         "Y/N," your boss addressed you quietly, halting those annoying taps, "I need you to be there tonight... as a... as a distraction instead of as my accountant..." his eyes darted away in shame as he said 'distraction'.

        Your heart plummeted, beating harder in your chest at the sentence.  You could feel your throat tighten at the thought of being eye candy for criminals, especially this one. Voice catching, you couldn't say anything, so you nodded twice with gritted teeth.