Chapter 6 - Fake Fiancée, Huh?
Stacey's POV:
“Sir? I’m not the only female agent in this fucking agency to babysit. That’s not that complicated of a mission for any other one. I’m not taking it. I’m sorry. I don’t do fake fiancée and body on body shit. And he seems to have bodyguards, gorillas and enough trained from their eyes to protect the guy.” Yeah, he’s near me, listening to all this, and I’m like he’s on Mars or something, not seeing him. Yeah, that’s me. I’m not all there in general when out of missions, but also before. As for in the mission, you don’t want to fucking know how crazy I fucking am. Yeah, well. I turn around to go with a flicker of irritation in my eyes, avoiding the fucker’s sight, meaning Sedge whatever guy, but I get stopped by my boss’s voice. Both of you just GO AND FUCK YOURSELVES!
“It’s your mission, Alexander. The bills from the club back then, a month ago, are high. He’s the owner of the club. He saw your skills and decided you’re perfect for it. You either take the mission or prepare some twenty million dollars out of your pocket. That damn shit is expensive as fuck. If you take the mission, he forgets about the damages and costs for us, and pays the services aside from that as we charge on such missions. You’re booked for the next six months. If you get the bad guy before that, you’re out the next second. Here are the mission’s details and here’s the offer.” I’m raking my fingers through my hair, groaning in despair, with my back at them. Yes! I remember the club so damn well! And I know the fucking damages! And I don’t have twenty million right now! SHIT! FUCK ME AND FUCK ME SOME MORE! WHAT THE FUCK?! AND SIX FUCKING MONTHS?! I turn around with a rioting squeal, firing my boss with my criminal stare, in rabid steps to his fucking desk to fetch the documents. No, I don’t see the main fucker. He’s banned from my sight.
“Ugh!” I start reading the mission details, a lengthy file. Same bedroom?! Act like a true fiancée in public and in house?! I’m frowning with a desperate stare on the contract, nervously chewing my inner cheek, ready to explode. Attend our engagement party?! Attend all public functions, dates and all involved in such a relationship in public and private?! Accept all intimacy involved for people to believe our relationship?! WHAT THE FUCK AM I?! A FUCKING ESCORT?! I raise my bloody-creature-of-the-night stare at my boss. “The fuck is this? This is something for an escort, not a paid assassin to protect and kill. Are you fucking serious with this?” Yeah, I’m almost erupting. My heart is asking for a kill right now. My brain is smoked in anger. My breathing is erratic. He sees my state and knows the consequences, so he clears his throat, sighs, and softens his stare and grimace at me, regaining his puppy state.
“It’s for show, not for real, Stace. You’re there to protect and kill if necessary and all that included. There are people inside, that we’re yet to know of, providing info outside and that’s why you need to act in private as well. And, of course, you need to show in public what a real relationship you both have. It’s only natural. Nobody knows this is fake except for the people present at this moment.” I’m having a major headache right now and I need some fucking sleep. I’m fucking breaking in body. I can’t even fucking think anymore. I still don’t look at the guy. I really don’t give a fuck on him or any other for what I care. FUCK! FINE! FINE! FINE! I’LL FIND THE FUCKER FAST AND END HIM FOR HE’S DOING THIS TO ME! SHIT! I grab a pen from my boss fucker’s desk and fucking sign it without further reading anything as I can’t take anything any longer.
“FINE! I’LL FUCKING SIGN IT! THERE! But I’ll let my guys write the fucking report for the last one as I can’t fucking stand anymore! And if the fucker expects intimacy of any kind from me?! He’s got it coming! Decency is required or he won’t get killed by the other fucker, but by his fake fiancée that he on his own has requested! Good night! I’m out!” I throw the contract on the desk, almost landing on my boss, and turn around at my four fuckers. They’re some statues as they know not to move a fucking muscle when I’m losing it as they might get involved in my rage and it is painful for them. “All of you! Listen! Full reports! Send them on my email before submission! You’ll take your asses with me in the new mission! Posing as bodyguards! I need all eyes and ears on everyone there! When the main fucker says I need to be at his fucking whatever place for the mission starting tomorrow, send a car to take me in! Call me one hour before taking me! Long calls! As I might not hear it from first call! UNDERSTOOD?!”
“Yes, sir!” I’m cursing them under my lips with a bad bitch stare. They’re like soldiers looking in front. Yeah, I’m tiny in front of them, but you don’t want to taste my wrath. It doesn’t consider size and all. You just get fucked.
“GOOD! Call the fucking car to send me home. NOW!” They spread per orders and I’m walking out. No, no look at the main fucker who ordered the fake shit mission. I’ve just slammed the door at my back with an ‘UGH!’ I’m so fucked…. And here I wanted a fucking break…. Yeah…. Babysitting…. SHIT!
I’m lighting another cigarette, strolling to the elevator to go back downstairs, shove myself in the fucking car, nap till home, crawl till my fucking apartment, close the fucking main door, and then pass out on the fucking floor as I’m sure I won’t go further than that from how I’m feeling right now. I’m doomed…. Fucking shit…. Fake fiancée, huh? That’s new alright…. I feel like a fucking escort right now…. Jesus!