𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

nine

"I'm not going to screw it up." I fume. Marcelo keeps telling me to be careful and repeating details I've already heard a thousand times; get her alone, stick a needle in her neck, make her go to sleep and boom. A five year old could do it.

"I'm simply giving you advice." He shrugs and I glare daggers into his cheek bone that's facing me. His jaw line is sharp and I can tell he has a stupid grin on his face.

"I don't need your advice." I cross my arms and push myself further into the seat of the moving car. It's only Marcelo and me in the car this time — besides the driver.

"We're here." He deadpans and takes a deep breath in, "Get out and don't screw it up."

"I'm not going to screw it up!" I shout this time and he puts on that annoying ass grin again.

"We'll see." He opens the door from beside me, leaning over my exposed legs. I have on a mini leather skirt that stops at my upper thigh paired with a corset like black top. It's a one piece. All he has to do is unbutton the two buttons holding it together and he can slide right into me.

I curse my thoughts for being dirty right before a mission and squeeze my legs together. When he leans back up, he has a smirk. He glances at my legs and leans back in his seat in a manspread, "Go on now." He gestures his hand at me to get out and I huff an annoyed sigh.

I get out and my solid black heels click on the ground. I use the sound to calm my nerves. Missions with women have always made me more nervous because they're not as stupid. They're harder to manipulate by a landslide.

It's not that I don't think I can do it, I know I can. It's just going to take more effort than I feel like giving in today.

I tap my ear piece as I near the restaurant and hear the static erupt in my ears. I also hear the deep breathing of Marcelo on the other side and it's almost comforting.

I hide my face to the side, acting as if I was about to cough and tell Marcelo I'm about to go in. He grunts out an "okay" and I mentally roll my eyes.

I get to the reception desk and it's not the usual warm hearted looking woman or man who greets you with a smile. It's a burly man with black buzzed hair and a solid stone expression on his face, "Name and ID." He says as soon as I step up towards the desk.

"Isabel Ramirez." I hand him my fake ID created by Alessandro without batting an eye. He looks at the ID then lifts his eyes towards me with a skeptical expression.

I smile and he hands me back the ID after another 5 seconds of staring, "Have fun Miss Ramirez." His grill shines in the dim lighting as he sends me a sinister grin. A shiver rolls down my spine while I'm walking away.

I hear the flamboyant noise coming from the tinted door that leads into the actual restaurant. When I open the door, I see her immediately.

She's in the center of the restaurant with a microphone and holy shit she is Salma Hayek level gorgeous.

Her hair is a sleek, jet black and it hangs to her lower back. She has her hair slicked back in the natural wet hairstyle that only so many people can rock. Her makeup is stunning; Her chocolate brown eyes covered by thick winged eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow.

She's showcasing her figure in tight black, leather pants and a sleeveless top that's tucked in. Her breast's are spilling out of the top and you can tell she not only captivates the room with her looks, but her aura as well.

"I want to welcome you all to my wonderful husbands opening." She winks and there's a chuckle that tells me that there's an inside joke in that sentence. I walk in with the confidence to attract her attention but also with a slyness to not catch the eyes of the power hungry horny men all around me.