{Sang}
"You need to be cautious with these men, Sang. They're dangerous and manipulative, even though, at first appearances, they seem harmless," Phil warns, his voice stern and affirmative. But even with his furrowed, graying brows and his hard tone, the underlying unconditional love he feels for me is still present, as he's the only man who's ever really loved me. More than my own father does, at least.
"I will, Phil. I promise," I insist, accepting the hug he offers me and breathing in his old pine scent. "Besides," I continue, pulling back to give him a playful smile, "when am I not?"
"All the time, actually," he chuckles. "That's why I always find it necessary to remind you."
"True," I shrug. "But being careful is just so boring."
"But it's what keeps you safe."
"Sure, safety is important, but I'd say the most important thing is to get the job done, whatever the cost," I challenge.
"And that is precisely one of the reasons why you're one of the Academy's best, but it's also one of the reasons why I'm forced to stitch you back up after nearly every assignment you go on. One time, Sang, just one time I'd like you to come back unharmed."
I huff, "Fine. But only 'cause I love ya."
"I love you too, munchkin." I grumble a little at the nickname he's been calling me for years, ever since I met him five years ago when I was twelve and was first introduced to the Academy. Now I'm graduated, have been for a year, and I'm the youngest to ever do so.
I don't know how they found me, because apparently I'm a "ghost bird," as they like to call me. Basically, that just means I don't legally exist in the eyes of the government, for I was never claimed or legitimized and no physical or digital evidence of me exists. My dad is kind of a dick, to say the least.
I say my final goodbyes to him before I'm out the door, riding in the backseat of an expensive, all-black car with my friend Brian as the chauffeur. It's all part of the plan: show up to the gala in a fancy car, wearing my way too luxurious, skin-tight, blood-red dress that reaches the floor, pretend to mingle and have a good time while actually looking for the criminals I'm after, and eventually get them to trust me enough to show me back to their place so that I may know where they live. That way, I can investigate their house and find the exact files I'm looking for. It's simple, really.
The Academy asked for volunteers for this mission, making it clear that it could be potentially dangerous and things could go wrong very easily, but I was still the first to volunteer, as I usually am. For one, it comes with six favors--which is basically a fuck-ton for one assignment--and it's also vital that this gets done correctly and seamlessly. If they realize they've been tricked, no-doubt will they kill me, or worse. Not to brag or anything, but I'd say I'm definitely one of the best in the Academy when it comes to being sneaky and getting myself out of sticky situations.
I'm a smooth talker, and I've been told my face doesn't hurt either. Plus, I live for danger. It's kind of a secret--though I'm pretty sure the cat's out of the bag at this point--but I'm a bit of an adrenaline junky.
Phil insisted that I don't take this assignment because it's dangerous and he doesn't want me to pimp myself out, but it's not like I'm completely innocent. Sure, I haven't had sex, but I'm not oblivious and I won't pretend to be pure. I've done things. Besides, I plan on getting out of the situation before it goes too far--I'll say I don't feel too well and straight up book-it before I lose my virginity to some sleazy stranger--but I know by then I'll have probably already done other things with them. I don't expect to leave without at least having kissed them.
I have to get them to escort me back to their place somehow, and I'm competent enough to realize what that entails.
I let out a sigh when I see the place fast approaching. It's basically just a really large ballroom that's been rented out for the occasion: a meeting of all the biggest criminals and most prominent people around the world, disguised as a "charity event." That actually kind of pisses me off, but I'm not afraid to admit that it is pretty smart. These people are all very rich and important and can't afford being found out by authorities.
And that's what I'm pretending to be: rich and important, with my dress that clings to me like a second skin, my five-inch heels--that still only make me a little over 5'6"--and my naturally multi-colored blonde hair styled to perfection by one of the Academy's finest hairdressers, Linda. Its style is too intricate for me to even really explain or understand myself, but basically there are multiple braids pulled from the front of my head to the back, coming together to form and even larger braid that somehow looks like it's falling down my head in a waterfall, while the rest of it is down and wavy, reaching the top of my butt.
"Thanks, Brian," I say, giving him my award-winning smile. "Wish me luck."
Brian is a fairly attractive man in his mid-twenties, with shaggy brown hair and pretty brown eyes, giving off that boy-next-door kind of vibe. He winks at me and gives me a smile of his own.
"Good luck, gorgeous. Knock 'em dead," his southern accent is slightly thick, making me think back to the first time I met him about a year ago and had a major crush on him, how utterly swooned I'd been by his southern drawl and playful chivalry. Now, my crush has faded and the relationship is purely platonic. At least, on my side it is. Lately, he's been making it pretty clear he wishes it were the opposite.
The valet opens my door and offers me a hand. I throw one last smile at Brian before I take it and send one to the valet, and he shuts the door after I step out. Brian drives off as I make my way to the grand entrance of the very extravagantly lit and decorated building, shaking away the sudden nerves.
Sure, I've been surrounded by criminals before in disguise, but for some reason, this just feels different. And I've never had to do anything like this before, as these kind of jobs are usually given to the other Academy girls. I don't usually do these types of jobs because they're just not my forte--I usually prefer the action or the things that require my engineering expertise. But this time, the assignment just had so many pros that I couldn't pass it up. Only bad part is really just the having to make physical, intimate contact with a total stranger, or possibly even more than one, as there are multiple perpetrators I'm searching for tonight.
I gulp when I step into the fancy building decked out in fancy decorations and filled with fancy people, feeling so put of place. Mostly because I know that when I leave here tonight, after I give over all the possible evidence I might find, I'll be returning home to neglect and physical and emotional abuse. I'll be returning home to her.
I look around, trying to appear casual amongst all the laughing, carefree people but also sophisticated, like I fit in. I don't. I can tell because I can feel all their eyes. I don't know why they're staring at me; I felt like I looked very pretty when I left the house. Or, at least, that's what I was told by everyone. Were they lying? Am I ugly?
I must be, or else half these people wouldn't be staring at me like they're either trying to drink me in or spit me out.
I nearly jump out of my skin but manage to keep in my fright--as that would most definitely give away the nerves I'm feeling--when a voice startles me out of my sudden self-deprecating thoughts.
"Hey there, malen'kaya ptitsa. Can't say I've seen you around here before."
I turn around to come face-to-face with... a wall? My eyes slowly travel up the very large man in an all-black suit, finally reaching his dark eyes and dark hair and a very intimidating face with sharp edges and danger written all over it. I can even see some tattoos peeking out from the top of his collar. His deep Russian accent certainly makes his dangerous aura even more prominent, along with his staggering height, which is still about a head taller than me even with my heels.
I hide my fear with a confident, easy grin and reply, "I can't say I know what you just said, but I can say that I don't come to these things often."
When did he get so close, and what is that glint in his eyes?
His eyes travel up and down the length of my body, drinking in every single dip and curve like he's been deprived of water his whole life and I'm a tall glass of it, just waiting to be tasted. His bottom lip gets caught between his teeth, his tongue playing with the lip ring I only just realized he has. "Well, malen'kaya ptitsa, why don't I help get you acquainted."
I lift a brow, my lips quirking up a little more, this time more genuinely. "Maybe you should tell me your name first. Then I might consider your little proposition." He chuckles a deep laugh at that, making me squirm a little at the way it rings through me like a vibrational shockwave.
"My name is Yevgeny Ravenstahl, but you can call me Raven. And you are...?" he draws out that last little bit.
I try not to smirk at the name I recognize, knowing he's one of the men I'm searching for, and that this plan so far is running smoothly. "Sydney Sinclair," I answer, giving him my alias so as to not give my real identity away. This isn't a new occurrence; I change my name quite often, as one must do to go on secret assignments and remain a ghost. You can never be too careful.
I hold out my hand for him to shake; he takes it. But instead of shaking it like I expect, his big hand--almost like a freaking paw--brings my much smaller one up to his slightly full, almost rough lips, gently touching them to my skin. The press of his cool lip ring against the back of my hand makes my skin tingle.
"Nice to meet you, Syndey." Something tells me if he said my actual name--what with his deep accent and terribly dangerous, yet dangerously attractive, smirk--I'd have shivered.
"And you as well, Raven," I beam at him, trying my hardest to suppress the blush that wants to rise to my cheeks at the delicate feel of his rough lips against the back of my soft hand. Get it together, Sang. It's not like you haven't met super attractive men before, who've kissed more than just your hand. But something about him is just so... different. And I just don't know what.
"So, what exactly is there to do at these gatherings?" I ask, clearing my throat as he lets my hand fall.
Again, a wicked smirk. There's a glint in his eyes that screams danger, that I should run while I still can, but my body feels drawn to him. I don't want to leave. And I couldn't even if I wanted to, for I'm here for a purpose other than swooning at this criminal. "Not much, malen'kaya ptitsa. That's why I prefer leaving early. I don't like talking to strangers for longer than I have to. They're too... what's the word? Arrogant?"
I nod. "Yeah, I get what you mean. So why did you decide to speak to me?"
He gives me a look I can't decipher. But my best guess would be 'Are you serious?'. This is further supported by his next statement. "Isn't it clear, Sydney? You seem like a smart girl--"
"Thanks?"
"But you seem like you're honestly confused," he continues after I interrupt him. "I don't get how you can't see."
"You're right. I mean, I wouldn't consider myself a genius, but I wouldn't classify myself as any sort of uneducated either. And I can honestly tell you, I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about."
He sighs. "Fuck, malen'kaya ptitsa. You're the most beautiful woman here. And if you haven't noticed all the women gloating--"
"You mean glaring?" I cut him off accidently, a little flushed and nervous at his compliment.
"Same," he literally waves me off like he's swatting at a fly. I almost laugh before he continues, "they're only glaring because they're jealous that all the men are staring at you and not them. As much as I'm annoyed by them, I know these birds. And I know that they feel threatened by you."
I'm about to open my mouth to respond, flustered, but someone's sudden presence and voice cuts me off.
"He's right, you know," a slightly deep voice comes from in front of me, to the right of Raven. He's a little taller than him, maybe by and inch and a half, or so. And all I can say is it looks like he was kissed by the sun.
His hair is a golden blonde, a little shaggy but well-groomed for this banquet, his eyes are a bright shade of cerulean blue, like liquid mirth, his skin has a beautiful tan, and his smile is gorgeous as well. It's clear he's well-built under his dark grey suit, but not nearly as much as the big Russian to his right.
My head tilts to the side as I look up at him, and he chuckles, holding out his hand for me to take. I do, as one should when greeting anyone, and instead of shaking it like I expect--much like Raven--he turns it and kisses the back of it.
"Corey Henshaw. Pleasure to meet you..."
"Sydney. My name is Sydney," I introduce, feeling just as fluttery with him as I do Raven.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sydney," he grins. It seems friendly enough, but again, just like Raven, there's something behind it that's almost wicked. And when I give myself a second to get over that thought, I realize he is another one of the men I was told to engage with tonight. Apparently, there are fourteen, but they all run together like some sort of mafia family, distributing a drug called JH-14, which is fitting, considering how many of them there are. Probably why they named it that.
I really don't know how anyone expected me to be able to speak with all of them and not make it look suspicious. But so far, it's running quite smoothly and I haven't had to do any of the work searching them out. They've been coming to me. Score.
"Pleasure's all mine, Corey," I smile back, hiding the glee I'm feeling right now at the thought of finally catching these criminals and stopping them from ruining the lives of any more people. Many have suffered through the distribution of this lethal drug.
But if I'm being honest, I never expected the ring leaders to be so handsome. The Academy haven't actually been able to get pictures of these men, only names and vague descriptions. But if the other twelve look anything like Corey or Raven, God bless anyone who has to be in a room alone with them. Too much hotness in such a small space could be deadly. I'm assuming.
"So, Sydney, what business are you here for?" Corey asks.
"My father sent me in his place, as I'm the eldest and the heir to his business. He was going to come but had an issue pop up at one of his factories in London, so he had to fly there last night," I answer smoothly with the lines I practiced earlier.
"Oh, and who is your father?"
"Robert Sinclair. You probably haven't heard of him, but that's because he usually only lets his business partners and suppliers know of his identity. Safer that way, y'know?"
"Yeah, we definitely understand where he's going from," Raven nods.
"Coming," Corey corrects.
Raven smirks. "I know. I just wanted to get one of you to say 'coming'."
I can't stop myself from giggling and scorning myself in my head about actually enjoying my time with these criminals.
The two of them seem to light up at my laughter, their eyes going starry for a moment. Them. These big, bad drug lords. The thought of making them look like that causes my giggles to cease, my heart to race, and roses to bloom on my cheeks.
"You wanna get out of here, Sydney?" Corey asks, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, bright-blue eyes darker now.
"I'd love to," I answer. But not because I actually want to. It's because I have to. It's all part of the plan. Strictly business. Necessary. Nothing more, nothing less.
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I loved writing this. And I'm sooo excited to write this story! I hope you guys are excited to see a side of the guys you haven't before either.
All my love,
Tori