This chapter was originally not part of the outline, but I added it due to a lot of messages I received of people asking to see the interaction that happened between Ash and Will. Hope you enjoy :)
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Y/N 💥
Wednesday, 8:42pm
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I HAVE A PLAN, AND IT'S GOING TO WORK.
The problem with Louis Partridge, was that he had a hidden personality hidden underneath that 'male-arrogant-bravado' he would constantly wear. I saw a flash of it earlier today when I dared to put my hand on his face, mostly out of spite. But I saw it.
I wondered if it was immaturity.
Maybe it was weakness.
I didn't know, but I wanted to, because the man seemed like there was much more to him than toxic masculinity and condescending tones.
When I left him in that alley, the first thing I did was go straight back to my compound. Since my parents were spending time off in the Bahamas—or was it Barbados? Baltimore? Boring Beach where they can both go Bloody die for all I care—I didn't have any restrictions when it came to messing around.
And yeah, I set off that bomb.
Well, not me, but Millie did.
While I made sure I had a credible alibi, she was on the other side of London, hitting a red button to blow the shop up. They didn't know I had an associate, and I wanted to keep it that way. Especially from Louis Partridge. I kept a lot of things from him, and I need to be more wary about what I accidentally let slip.
As I strode into the dark-lit room of my compound, I glanced down at my wrist, staring at the ink marked into my skin. He had seen the tattoo, because I was being reckless. I wasn't going to let him see it again.
I've begun to accept that it was just a symbol of who I was, and that I'd never be rid of it, no matter how many times I covered it up or tried to scratch it off. It lived on me like a shadow, the guilt seeping into my skin and running through my blood like thick poison. Oh, Ash, your parents may be somewhere else, but they made sure you knew they'd always be around.
"So," Millie said, glancing up from her computer, "what's next?"
I stopped, bending down to unlace the ties on my combat boots. "Good question."
"Do you have an answer?"
"Of course I do," I smiled, kicking off my shoes, "I saw this other man talking to Louis down at the detonation site. Are they partners?"
Millie glanced off to the side, before leaning over to type something into her computer. Knowing her, she was probably searching through SIS-encrypted files to find the data on every other agent that came into contact with Partridge. She was good at finding stuff, just like how she found me his email.
"Two things," she mumbled, her fingers cracking against the keyboard, "what does he look like, and why do you want to know?"
Walking over to my dresser, I pulled open the cabinets and pulled out a black dress I'd been stashing away for a while. Never had a chance to use it, but now I very well could.
"Attractive, chiseled face, grey-blue eyes," I said, unbuttoning my shirt as I changed, "looked gorgeous in a pinstripe suit, but that meat-head Partridge was blocking my view of him."
Millie nodded her head. "I think I found him."
"You did?"
"William Franklyn-Miller," she read out, "assigned to accompany Louis Partridge as an assistant, number seven-three-two, clean record, and current status is unwed."
"Unwed?"
"No signs of a relationship, either."
"Brilliant," I said, pulling on my dress, "let's change that."
Now, I wasn't interested in him, because—mind you—I don't get feelings, but I could use it as an advantage to my plan. I know his type, because his type is just like the others. Bachelor, who gets distracted by a pretty face.
And I wanted to leave Louis Partridge a little gift.
Or a threat.
Same thing.
"Are you seriously trying to seduce him?" Millie gasped, shutting her computer closed, "you're already in dangerous waters by messing with that other agent, why do you need another?"
"Because I need to learn as much as I can about Louis."
"Why?"
"Advantage," I shrugged, before pausing, "and maybe my own self-interest."
I won't be an oblivious idiot and say that the man wasn't attractive, but he was the face of everything I hated. Arrogant, condescending, and male. I wasn't going to bother with him when it didn't involve trying to kill him. I could do that in twenty days. I was just having my fun.
"So you're going to get to Partridge," Millie mumbled, "through his best friend?"
I wrinkled my nose. "I don't think they're best friends."
"Really?"
"When they were talking, William seemed put off ," I explained, "I don't blame him really, Louis really is insufferable sometimes."
Grabbing my heels from the bin beside the drawer, I slipped them onto my feet and made my way towards the door. I had a man to play, and I couldn't wait. I was doing it for the reason of quenching my boredom, having a little flirt with a gullible dimwit, and leaving a threatening message to the man who thought he could beat me.
He can't.
───── ⋆⋅🔥 ⋅⋆ ─────
THIS IS TOO EASY.
Millie managed to make me a fake file in the SIS, so walking through security took no time. To everyone else, my name was 'Rachel Abel' and I worked in Intel. I also received the location of the office I needed to go to, and the knowledge that Louis wouldn't be in until another hour.
So I was running on time.
Shame, I'd rather walk.
As I paced through the marble hallways of the Agency, I tried to hide my distaste of the design. White walls, glass screens, holograms and hollow minds displaying information everywhere. It seemed like these so-called 'heroes' cared more about their appearances than they did the law.
Wasted money and wasted time.
The Partridge-Franklyn-Miller office was on the third floor, in the third room, three ways down. It was like the world was trying to kill me. I hated threes, and I hated what they stood for. I only had to glance at the triangle tattooed onto my arm to remember why. Three sides, three people, three words written on the bottom.
Shaking away the thoughts, I adjusted my dress, fixing my appearance before taking a step into the open doorway of the office.
I knocked on the doorway.
"Agent Miller?" I asked.
The man was sitting at his desk in the corner of the room, his thin nose buried in piles of work. His hair was slightly disheveled—signs that he had been running his hand through it multiple times as he carried on—but he snapped his head up once he heard my voice.
"Hi," he said, his expression softening, "can I help you?"
"Yeah, you can," I smiled, "is this your office?"
"Half of it is. The other half belongs to the Miracle-Rookie."
"Miracle-Rookie?"
"Yeah, the Higher-Up's favorite? The Arrogant bloke?" He scoffed under his breath just at the thought, "how have you not heard of him?"
So my suspicions from earlier were correct. William Franklyn-Miller hated his partner for the same reasons I did. I didn't blame him, and besides, it was good to have something in common with him. I could use it to my advantage.
"Well it's more of a question of whether you believe it or not," I smirked, "and I don't believe Agent Partridge is half of what they say he is."
William had a glimmer in his eyes at that.
"Why are you here?" He asked.
"What would you say if I said it was for you?"
That was incorrect, I couldn't care less about him. I just needed to play on interest here.
"For me?" He said, tilting his head, "whatever for?"
"Well, I never said it was the reason why," I clarified, "I just asked what you'd say if it was."
"Depends on what you're here for."
"Depends on what you want."
Damn, [y/n], that was too strong.
I was worried he'd get suspicious, maybe even put off by it, but I was surprised when he arched his brow, staring at me in interest. He paused, setting down his pen with a thud on his desk.
"You can come in," he said.
Too easy.
As I strode into the room, I pretended to ignore the not-so-subtle way he scanned my body, either looking for observations or being an enthralled creep. He didn't seem like much of a creep, though, he had a very posh aura around him that garnered at the point of 'proper-raising'.
He stood up from his chair, walking to the other side so he could lean up against it, his arms crossed against his chest. I took the opportunity to lean against Louis', quickly scanning the clean space for anything I could use (empty coffee mug on the left—which meant late nights at the office. Interesting).
"I've never seen you before," William said, snapping my attention back, "what's your division?"
"SIS intel," I smiled, "I know pretty much everything about everyone."
That was true.
"What do you know about me then?"
Oh, he was making it too early to flirt.
"Well," I began, slowly propping myself onto the surface of the desk, "I know you're the reason why Agent Partridge succeeds on his missions, but they don't give you half the credit for it."
William was silent, watching me with a glimmer in his eyes. I continued.
"I know you're quick with words and good at reading people," I said, listing off random traits his ego would think were true, "I know you like your job, but hate your partner, and..."
When I stopped, the man cocked a brow.
"And?" He said.
"I know your tie's crooked," I said innocently, batting my eyelashes, "want me to fix it for you?"
He laughed softly at that, glancing down at his navy tie to see that it was, in fact, askew. That was the thing about seducing someone, you had to make them think of touch without actually touching them. It tricked their mind into thinking that they were the one who wanted it.
And in this case, I knew pretty-boy's head was filled with thoughts of me inches from his face, fixing his tie for him. Gross, but sometimes you have to play with your power to get what you want.
"For an SIS intel, you seem to have forgotten rule seventeen," William said, a smirk playing on his lips, "no flirting with your associates."
"I haven't forgotten," I smiled, "but does it matter?"
"To me or to you?"
"To both," I grinned, "and the last time I checked, it was just the two of us."
Don't vomit, don't vomit, don't vomit—God, sometimes flirting could be insufferable. While I let the man process his thoughts, I took another chance to glance around the room.
Louis had a poster hanging on the wall behind him, a mint-version of a vintage Sex Pistols ad. I remembered listening to that British-Punk-Rock band a lot when I was a child, and it made me surprised Partridge's music taste wasn't too bad. But that was less of anything I could use to my advantage, and more of something I could think about later. Or I could tease him about it the next time we chat.
"You've got quite the confidence," William said, crossing his arms again, "would it be out of place for me to say I find it attractive?"
I shrugged. "Depends on why you'd say it."
"You seem smart enough to know why."
"I know why," I smiled, winking, "tryna' date me, baby?"
Alright, now I've had my fun, and I don't see the point of lingering around here. Louis was expected to be back in about five minutes, so I had to get out of here quickly before I was recognized.
"But I'm not here for you, " I said bluntly, hopping off the table, "I'm here for Agent Partridge."
William's face fell. "Oh."
"Just dropping this off for him" I said, pulling out the box from my pocket, "sorry for leading you on, but I couldn't help myself."
"No, it's fine," he said, "disappointing, that's all."
Hah.
I felt bad for him, but I didn't care too much. I'd only see him again if I needed him, which would be rare, because I rarely need the help of a man to do anything. Placing the nicely wrapped 'threat' on the center of Louis' desk, I turned around heading towards the door.
Before I could leave, I heard Will call out.
"Intel, right?" He asked.
I smiled. "Going to go looking for me?"
"Maybe," he shrugged, "just wanted to know if you wanted to grab a coffee after working hours."
Poor boy, didn't know the truth.
"Cant," I said, turning away, "tell Partridge I'm available, though."
And then I left him standing bewildered in his office.
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Do I smell jealous Louis coming? Yes, I do.