J͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞i͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞.
To many, I am a myth.
The 'Kiss of Death', a hired killer, revered by some of the greatest criminal organisations in the world. Trained by the bratva themselves, without conscience, without mercy.
The per...
The city thrums outside the car window. Car horns blare as we sit in bumper to bumper traffic.
I used to hate the city, the towering sky scrapers, the ignorant commuters, the way the people pour down the sidewalks like a river, the smells, the thick, putrid air. It's a sensory overload, a nightmare for someone like me. I Was Never There by The Weekend blares through the car speakers.
I glance at Jungkook, and he's pressed into the back of his seat, his arm outstretched as he casually drapes his wrist over the steering wheel. He almost looks relaxed, except for the subtle tick of his jaw.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
He turns to face me. "Nothing."
I face the windshield again. "Lies."
Neither of us says anything else as we wind through the stop-start traffic eventually pulling up outside an older brick building right by the Brooklyn Bridge. Tall windows are adorned with little flower boxes, and wide stone steps lead to a set of heavy-looking double doors. As soon as the car pulls to a stop, the door opens a crack and a younger guy in a smart suit comes rushing over. I get out and Jungkook throws the keys to him before we walk up the steps towards the door.
I'm wearing a dress and heels, because apparently wherever this meeting is a formal occasion.
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There have been plenty of times when I've had to seduce targets and dress like a woman they'd happily follow to a secluded room. But I feel fake, a blade pretending to be a flower. In some instances, a flower is a good disguise, but in others, you want to be seen as something dangerous and life threatening. A knee length coat goes some way to hiding the baby bump. I know it's pointless now, but showing it just feels like I'm pointing right at a soft spot and daring an enemy to stab me there.
Jungkook's arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me into his side as we climb the steps. "You look beautiful." He says, amusement in his voice as he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger.
"I have a gun and two knives on me. I will hurt you."
He chuckles as he pulls the door open for me. I glare at him as I pass, but he just stares at my ass.
"Don't go stabbing anyone. Wouldn't want to get blood on your dress."
I'm going to get blood on him in a minute.
We walk straight past what looks like a reception desk. The guy behind it stares at me and I can feel his eyes even as we round the corner. Another set of double doors open into a bar. It has that Old-world feel about it with wooden flooring and leather wing back chairs everywhere. There aren't many people in here, but again, everyone stares at me as if I have two heads. Or maybe it's Jungkook they're looking at.
"Why are they staring?" I say under my breath.
He smirks. "They don't see many women in here."
I glance around again. There isn't a single woman in here, and all the patrons are...of a certain ilk.
