Manipulative Attraction

⚛️ B E G I N A T T H E B E G I N N I N G

After moving through several security checkpoints, including an eye scan, he'd reached his destination.

A cool blonde stood like a sentry behind a beautiful antique desk. Known merely as Ms. Z, she wore a tailored ice-blue business suit and six inch silver stilettos. The color of her clothing matched the coldness of her eyes.

Ms. Z had a .480 Ruger, one of the most powerful handguns in the world, pointed at his midsection. Hollow tip bullets, for maximum damage, rested like sleeping soldiers in the chamber, ready to awaken at the slightest pull of the trigger.

"Good morning, agent. Do you have the package?" Her perfunctory greeting went along with her just-so smile.

He briefly wondered what would happen if he said, "No." Although tempted, he wasn't so reckless as to find out. Easy-to-clean marble tiling instead of carpet, graced the floor for a reason.

"Yes, I have it." While he fished in his pocket for the information, his mind drifted back to the woman who had paid the ultimate price.

____

"I'll leave everything for us—"

"Now why would you do that, darlin'?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "There is no us."

He had what he needed. She was of no use to him.

Her blue eyes widened. Her mouth, on which he'd mumbled fake-promises as he moved inside her, trembled. "Wha-wha-wha—"

"What do you mean?" His eyes flashed with anger as he cruelly mimicked her voice. "Is that what you wanted to ask me?"

She nodded, his sudden coldness leaving her unable to speak.

He bore his eyes into hers, his lips curled in a sneer. "I meant just what I said."

Her throat worked like a locomotive on a steep incline. She was finding it difficult to swallow his rejection. "Why are you acting this way? We-we love each other," she whimpered, moving to embrace him.

He held out his hands to keep her at bay. This scenario was nothing new to him. He'd been through the same three other times. Once on the phone and twice via text. He wanted to end this particular mission face to face in order to inflict as much damage as possible. It was what she deserved.

How could she leave her family for someone like him? Sure, he'd used all of his considerable resources and charm to lead her astray, but he hadn't forced her to do anything she didn't want to do. He gazed at her with disdain, allowing a careless smirk to play about the lips she'd loved to caress.

"Love? We didn't have love. Your husband had love. Your kids had love—all for you. But as for me ..." He twisted his lips and looked up at the overcast sky before he met her stunned gaze with dead, flat eyes. "I never liked you, let alone loved you."

Her mascara-coated tears fell freely. Dark trails ran down her pink rouged cheeks. "Why? Why did you do it?" she whined.

"Just because I could," he said, getting into his car. He started the engine and driving away, he blew her a kiss. And didn't even spare her a glance in the rear-view mirror.

_______

Mr. Z. cleared her throat, snapping him back to the present. "Agent?" Ms. Z asked, lifting a perfectly arched eyebrow.

He held up the USB stick. It winked in the light. Even though there was no call for it now, he followed protocol by delivering the information needed to ruin the reputation of the mark.

Ms. Z pressed a button and a seamless box opened in a wall to his right. He placed the stick inside, and the box retreated as if it had never been, gone from his sight forever, just like the mark from the world by her own hand.

Ms. Z motioned for him to pick up the manila envelope on the coffee table.

"Your next mark," she chirped.

The phone rang, a shrill sound in the cavernous room. She left him to answer it, careful to keep her gun trained on his torso.

Ignoring the threat, he broke the seal. The picture of a woman and a new USB stick tumbled out. He caught them both with deft fingers. The woman, a few years younger than he, had a curvaceous body and dark skin. The smile she wore was free from guile.

A surprising feeling of kinship, long forgotten, stirred inside of him. He stared transfixed at the picture—

"Agent?"

He tore his eyes from the woman's image to focus on Ms. Z.

"Leader asks you to remember that this mark is strictly platonic."

Nodding once, he stuffed the picture and the stick into his jacket pocket and headed to the door.

Ms. Z called out, "We need a verbal confirmation."

Secretly, the overkill surprised him, but he complied nonetheless. "Yes, I understand the instructions. Strictly platonic."

Back in his car, he studied the woman's picture again. The mark's unusual caramel colored eyes held him captive until he forced himself to look away by putting the photo face down on the seat.

Confidence soared through him at the thought of a fresh assignment. This mark would fall for him like all the others. After all, he was an expert at what he did and Leader couldn't fault him if the mark were stupid enough to get hurt like the last one.