United Assassins

c h a p t e r / t h r e e

"Water, please."

In response, he gives me a weird look but leaves to get me what I asked for. I know I'm at a club, so it would only be natural for me to drink, but I don't enjoy the taste of alcohol, and for me, there's absolutely no point to it.

"Here's your water." The bartender extends a glass cup to me, and I gratefully take it. It's hot in here, even with the small amount of clothing I'm wearing.

I glance down at my skimpy outfit, immediately regretting letting Hermione pick it out. She had insisted though, and it was hard to say no to my best friend. She never wore revealing things to work, but when it came to going out, she was all about show without shame.

The shirt is made up of tiny silver sequins which makes everything around me glitter. It has a loose v-neck, which shows off my entire upper breasts. I feel like they're about to fall out every five seconds. The strap wraps around my neck, but then the fabric stops and doesn't start again until my lower back.

Hermione also told me to wear a pair of ripped black jeans, and they're really cute. Along with the rest of the outfit, I ended up wearing black high-heels, because heels are my thing.

"You'd think I would have seen a beauty like you around here before."

My head swivels to the left, as I come face to face with a man a few years older than me with dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and facial hair.

This was easier than expected. I didn't even have to look for him myself.

I bat my eyelashes at him, playing along. "It's my first time here."

Liar.

"Water?" Arlin asks me, gesturing towards the glass cup in front of me. "C'mon Love." As he speaks, the hair on my arms rise. Did I mention he had a British accent?

No? Well, he does.

And it's so hot.

"Why don't I get you a real drink?"

Flagging down one of the waiters, he manages to get some type of alcoholic drink for both him and I.

I smile bashfully and raise the glass to my lips, hesitantly taking small sips. As the alcohol burns my throat, I internally cringe. The taste is disgusting, the feeling is disgusting.

It is disgusting.

I hate it.

But unfortunately for me, a good chunk of my job requires acting, and in order to put on a good show, you have to do stuff you don't want to.

I set the glass down and eye him up and down seductively, my eyes suggesting how bad I want to rip his clothes off right here, right now.

Part lie, part truth.

He seems to get the hint, but ignores it, looking back down at his drink. "Where are you from?"

I look down to my drink, and hesitate, but only for a split second. "Berith," I reply, uninterested anymore. I have to get him alone. I really don't want to cause a commotion with everyone around us.