The Duke's Sins | ongoing

Fifty Shades of Red

6 ~ fifty shades of red

Somehow, his cologne had seeped into my bedsheets, the scent lingering long after he'd left.

Still, the intensity of his eyes rattled in my head as I traced my eyes up to my reflection, the figure in the reflection looking back at me. A gown the shade of emerald wrapped around my figure, gleaming beneath the golden lustre of the hotel room.

The Duke was bad news. The worst news I'd seen in a long time. And I fully intended on staying away from him—far, far away.

I normally worked to fit into the crowd, to blend in. Today, I stood out. The green was deeper than the forestry of a jungle, cast over in silk that shifted with every movement of the light.

My phone buzzed on the bed, moving slightly with the vibrations.

"Dave," I greeted.

"Sphinx."

I sensed the pause on the other side of the call--hesitant and doubting.

"What is it?"

"The Duke will be making use of your company during tonight's event."

I dropped down onto the edge of the bed in frustration. "What?"

"There's been a security breach and until we deal with that, his best chance at security is with you."

"What kind of security breach? And there's plenty of time to deal with any problems."

Stress amassed heavily on his voice. "Someone's broken into his penthouse. I have no idea what the damage is so we can't make any assumptions."

I huffed, the call ending with a soft beep. The hotel phone rang with a shrill, a throb beginning to work through my head.

"Julie Williams, speaking."

"Good morning, ma'am," a cheery voice answered, her accent light on the tip of her tongue. "There's someone here for you at reception. Should I send them up?"

"Please do."

I paced back and forth, my nervous steps halting as a knock vibrated through the door.

Forcing a series of breaths through my lungs, I turned towards the door. I approached it with caution, peeking through the gap before pulling it wide open. The corridor sat empty and stranded.

Normally I'd be calm, collected.

This time, I had another life to account for.

A royal's life.

A crumpled paper lay scrunched up by my feet, the worn edges damp against my palm. A messy scrawl tattooed over it in dark ink. I held my breath, struggling to make sense of the words.

Second floor, Room 5.

My eyes widened at the red leaking through the page. Fresh blood dragged thickly across my skin, crimson and bright.

Darting inside, I cushioned my pistol into the waist of my gown. I wrapped a shawl over the top of my bare arms to shield myself from the sudden cold.

My breath hitched in my throat; I knew better than to follow a message someone had passed beneath my door, but the battering of my heart against my ribcage forced my steps down the corridor.

The subtle tap of my heels against the carpet moved over the floors in a confident stride, my shoulders pushed back.

Fisting the paper in my grip, I pounced my knuckles on Room 5. The door swung upon beneath the force of my knocks. With a hand on the weapon tucked beneath my shawl, I stepped into the room.

The curtains were drawn apart, the brightness of the daylight clashing with the artificial rays of the lights above. My ears perked up at the grunts echoing in the depths of the room.

"Help me."

I hesitated at the low rasps before following the call through the room. My breaths rushed out of my lungs at the red pooled over the crisp white of his shirt.

"Your Grace?"

•••

I'd messed up a job.

And I wasn't going to mess this one up. In some ways being a waitress was rather similar to being a spy. I dodged hands—hands that wanted to grab a piece of my skin rather than kill me, but it was the same, nevertheless.

I wiped my brow, swiping a towel over the final table. The bar was a graveyard of what had happened hours before. Drinks lay splashed across the floor, shards of glass shadowing the remains of the evening. My feet complained beneath my steps as I loosened my hair, running a hand over my aching scalp.

Giving the manager a tight-lipped smile, I swung my jacket over my shoulders, desperate to get out of the entire mess.

My life as a spy had been like that. I'd run after people' shadows, waiting to catch them make a mistake whilst having no time to tend to myself.

The cold night air stung my cheeks, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me, my shoes echoing against the concrete as I rounded the corner. Really, the silence was what I longed for. But when it came around, I couldn't help the feeling of dread that snaked up my spine.

In my lifetime, I'd been taken the form of a waitress, a cleaner, a bar dancer—all to catch a famous personality off guard. What I'd never done before was run—it was exactly what I was doing now.

I was running from the fact that I'd lost my licence as a spy. At the hands of a stupid mistake. A stupid, royal mistake.

My breath fogged up in the icy air and I felt my guards drop, my eyes glued to my feet as I slowed my pace.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my mouth, a sharp pierce spreading through my neck. I tugged my arms free of the tight hold, plunging my elbow swiftly into the man's chest. A sickening crack sounded as I manoeuvred my hands around his neck, shoving my knee into his face.

He dropped to the ground and I fumbled to catch a glimpse of his face just as my vision began to blur. I winced, touching my hand to the ache in my neck before I fell to the ground with a thud.

•••

I struggled against the bright rays of the early morning. I caught sight of the sun peeking in through the murky window, the daylight risen high in the sky.

It was around noon, which meant I'd been out for ten hours. Ten hours in the company of strangers was ten hours too long. At second glance, I realised they weren't strangers after all.

They stood tall, their hands behind their backs and their trained figures standing in a defensive stance.

Spies.

"Rise and shine, Miss Delilah."

"It's Sphinx to you," I snapped, seeking out an exit.

There was one window and one door. The door was closer—but armed—my best bet was the window. I eyed the rope tying me to the wooden chair, growing annoyed at the heights towering over me.

"Sorry, I thought you would have prefered to be addressed by your legal name."

"Well, you thought wrong." I wrestled with the rope tied around my wrists, the sharpness digging into my skin.

A smirk curved through my lips. "Why are you so tensed, boys?" I gave each one of them a long, hard stare. "I'm completely harmless." I held my now loose wrists up. "Look."

Their guns cocked up immediately at my loose wrists, their expression tainted with wariness and shock.

I stood up, yawning and stretching my limbs. "Try a different knot next time."

•••

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Love,
Laila