Perfect Target

Chapter 6 - A Flicker

“soon as you start
To make room for the parts
That aren't you it gets harder to bloom in a garden of
Love love love love”

—Bottle It Up, Sara Bareilles

CHAPTER SIX

I put the papers in the copier machine, impatiently waiting for the copies to be made. I just couldn't wait to go home. My conversation with Evan was still swirling in my head and no matter how much I tried to brush it off, I couldn't stop thinking what my life would've been like if I didn't chose to become a con artist.

I loved conning. It gave me a sense of power. I started it out of spite, but now it had become an addiction. A habit. It was a distraction I had grown to love.

This job was a part of my plan, nothing else, but having never done something like this before, I was being reminded of my life before becoming a con artist more often than I'd like. And it just made me wonder...

Ella was right. I was burying myself too much into the job that didn't matter to me which was swaying away my focus from my real job. I had to gain Evan's trust, first in the workplace, then outside it too, but I had fucked up multiple times today. Maybe that's why I was feeling so broody and anxious the whole day.

"Why can't I fucking get anything right?" I mumbled angrily, snatching the copies I made.

"My exact question."

I froze on hearing the sound of his deep voice.

This wasn't the right time. I really needed to gather myself together, work out my plan properly and become mentally prepared for this before I could face Evan again. I couldn't be 'lost' again. Somehow he always caught me off guard when it was supposed to be the other way around. It irritated me to no ends.

"Mr Carter." I said stiffly, turning around to find him staring at me. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I came here looking for you." he purred out, his lips curling up dangerously. "I didn't want you to leave before we completed our talk."

"I bet you didn't." I mumbled. He was probably wallowing at the idea of lecturing me, telling me how bad I was at my job. He seemed to love having the upper hand always. It would've worked well for him too, that is, if I wasn't the exact same.

"It's past my work hour. Can't I be yelled at tomorrow?" I gave him a nasty look. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, making me scoff. I walked past him to the door and tried to twist open the knob, but it wouldn't budge. I repeated the action a few times, before turning to glare at him.

"Why is this not opening? Did you do something to the locks?" I asked suspiciously. Doing suspicious things naturally made me suspicious of a lot of things.

"Seriously? Why would I do that? Why would anyone do that?" he frowned at me, visibly annoyed by my accusation.

I would do that, I don't tell him. Except I didn't like being locked up in a small space like this at all, it only further fuelled my anxiety and made me feel claustrophobic. I wanted to get out of there.

He sighed. "Let me check." he shook the knob a few times, but the door wouldn't open. He rumbled lowly, taking out his phone and putting it to his ear.

"Give me your phone." he held out his free hand towards me.

"Why?" I frowned.

"I'm not getting signal on mine. Let me try using yours."

"I don't have it with me. I left it on my desk."

"Well, then." he moved to a corner of room and casually sat down on the floor, against the wall, relaxed. He appeared so calm, completely opposite to how I was feeling. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirts upto his elbows, revealing his strong, masculine forearms. I couldn't help my gaze from lingering on his body a minute too long.