Deceit [h.s]

One

Elizabeth:

"Father, you know I am not suitable for that." I calmly stated at him. The agency only hired the best operatives for the field. I was definitely not one of them. I was pretty sure that my training wasn't nearly as adequate as necessary to work on field. While looking inside my father's eyes, the ones that resembled my own, I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind to ask such a nonsense.

"Elizabeth, you are more than qualified for this assignment. You are young, pretty, smart and you know a shitload about arts and languages." My father hardly ever swore, and when he did it was a clear indication of stress.

"Dad, just because I like art history it doesn't mean I can get close to a criminal, gather proof of his crimes and arrest him. I am not a field agent, I work at the office." I insisted, more forcefully this time. I could see all the desperation behind his eyes, pleading me to do as I was told, at least once in my life.

"I am not talking as your father, I am now speaking as the director of SIS. You are, as of now, no longer working at our offices. You are officially a field agent, the one who will be wildly known for capturing Harry Styles." I gritted my teeth, fully aware I couldn't disobey him, at least not when he was in full boss mode.

My father was director of the Secret Intelligence Service, something among the lines of a British CIA. He had always been a particularly successful field agent, the kind of person that ruined terroristic plans almost by himself. I was nothing like him. I liked to read, to watch Audrey Hepburn's movies, to watch people.

My job was that uneventful. I had majored in psychology and to put it in simple words, all I had to do was keep an eye on our employees, making sure they were beyond satisfied. It was simple, but indeed crucial. Dissatisfied agents could easily become leaks and our bureau didn't have a history of dealing well with treason.

"Do you know why you're such a great director?" I asked him, venom dripping from my tone. He rose an eyebrow, clearly awaiting for me.

"Because you're a fucking horrible father." I told him, noticing the way his eyes hardened,  hands turning to fists immediately. I kept eye contact, his eyes, a perfect duplicate of my own.

"Elizabeth Winters, you are dismissed. Harry Styles' files will be on your desk by the time you get there. Also, Benjamin wants to see you. He is the one in charge of Harry's case." I turned around, making my way towards the door and slamming it shut, never sparing another glance in the direction of my father.

That was his problem. Our personal life always got mixed up with the agency's problems. He had no right to do what he just did, not to mention the fact that my mentor would be my own boyfriend. My heels stomped against the marbled floors, clicking noises making heads turn whenever I passed. I promptly ignored them, until I reached the elevator and tapped fourth floor, my small haven.

Sure enough, Ben was chatting absentmindedly with one of my coworkers. Through the glass walls I watched him for a small moment. His blond hair was perfectly gelled up, a blue tie matching the colour of his eyes perfectly. Benjamin was indeed a great field operative, I was not. He moved gracefully, had skills with words and weapons. I hardly doubted that speaking five languages would get me out of a tricky situation.

"Liz" he smiled at me. "Took you long enough." I briefly kissed his lips, ignoring the playful gag noises Liam, my coworker, made.

"Your classified boyfriend is here with some majorly classified information and I believe I am not classified enough to hear it." Liam stated, making a small smile tug at my lips. For a brief moment I almost forgot why Benjamin was here. His arm was loosely wrapped around my waist, watching in silent mine and Liam's banter.