Secret [British Villains]

❥ chapter I

CONTENT WARNING(S):

minor violence

implied/referenced minor character death

threats of violence

Don't like, don't read!

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A/N:

Warning! This fanfic is unfinished (as of yet) and has been on hiatus for a long time now. I cannot promise that I will ever finish it, but I still wanted to share it with you, my dear readers. I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless~! ♥

It's an AU, based on the "British Villains" ads from Jaguar--if you haven't heard of those yet, you gotta go watch them right now! They're absolutely awesome~

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se·cret

/ˈsiː.krət/

adjective

kept from knowledge or view ❣ working with hidden aims or methods

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A low, long sigh escaped your lips as you opened up the website of yet another company. Your eyes, already a bit tired, scanned the small words on the brightly glowing screen of your smartphone, looking for the link to the section with the vacant positions. As soon as you found it, you tapped on it. While patiently waiting for the page to load, you took a sip from the cup of coffee standing on the cast-iron table you were sitting at. Before directing your gaze back at the phone screen, you rubbed your eyes and then stifled a yawn with your hand.

Staring at both your laptop and your smartphone for hours on end was not exactly healthy, neither for your eyes nor for your body. But this was a very important matter—you had to find a job after all.

You had finished college a few months ago, and ever since then you had been in search of a job that you were interested in. You didn't really pay attention to the size of the salary you would get; having a job you enjoyed doing was, for you at least, more important than earning loads of money for doing something you didn't even like. Thus, a smile flitted across your face when you came across an appealing job offer, and you jotted down the name of the company, the email address of the person you were supposed to contact, and the aforementioned job offer you were interested in.

So far, you hadn't had any luck with getting a vacant position unfortunately. You had had quite a lot of job interviews, of course, because you didn't miss out on any job offer that had piqued your interest. But you had been rejected every single time, fishing the sent-back binder with documents like your curriculum vitae out of the mailbox a few days after the interview.

But you didn't give up. What other choice did you have anyway? Living off of the little money you would earn with casual work and loafing about your flat without getting anywhere in your life? Nope, that wouldn't happen—at least not in the near future. You wouldn't give up on your dreams of getting your dream job any time soon.

You pocketed your phone, gulped down the last bit of your coffee, and stood up, entering the small, cosy sidewalk café. This was your favourite place to hang out at. Not many people came here because it was pretty far away from Oxford Street, but luckily, it still had enough customers to not go bankrupt and be closed down. You sometimes met up here with your friends—well, the few you had anyway since had difficulties maintaining more than five friendships at the same time.

Making a beeline for the toilets in the back of the café's main room, you walked across the well-lit room and lithely dodged other customers, waiters, and waitresses. The latter were carrying trays with glasses, cups, plates and the like for the most part, either setting what was on the tray down on one of the many tables both inside and outside the café, or gathering the empty dishes from a table where a customer had been sitting minutes ago.

The sounds of happily chatting and laughing people, chinking cutlery, and clattering plates followed you into the women's toilet, albeit muffled, now that the door was closed. A few minutes later, you left the toilet room again—only to walk right into another person who was hurrying down the hallway towards the main room of the café, sending you stumbling backwards and bumping into the closed door to the women's toilet.

"Excuse me, miss," a male voice said, and a hand clasped your upper arm, pulling you forward and back into an upright standing position. "I thoughtlessly paid no attention to my surroundings. Are you all right?"

Still a bit dazed by the sudden impact, you looked up into the greyish green eyes of a young man about your age. The first thing you noticed about him were his pearly white teeth he flashed at you in a bright, yet polite smile. The second thing was the navy-blue suit he was wearing. It fitted him perfectly, there weren't any creases in the smooth-looking material—in other words: it seemed to be specially tailored for him.

"Uh, yes. I am," you stammered, taken aback, blushing madly because of his good looks. You had never seen someone as well-groomed as him in real life before, only on television. "I should apologize. I didn't check if someone was coming down the hallway."

His dazzling smile grew a little wider, and your heartbeat sped up a couple of notches. How could someone have teeth so white and perfect like his? They seemed like straight from a commercial about toothpaste. How was that possible? "That's all right. Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself, miss?"

You nodded affirmatively. Your eyes were practically glued to his, although you really wanted to avert your gaze so that the traitorous blush on your cheeks would go away again. "Everything is alright," you said, glad that your voice didn't give away the turmoil in your chest.

"Well then, have a nice day." The man continued on his way down the hallway, his steps long and determined.

As you watched him stride across the café's main room, your attention was drawn to the briefcase he was carrying in one hand. The edges of some sheets of paper were peeping out as if it had been closed in a hurry, but the young man took no notice of that.

Maybe a transaction of confidential documents had secretly taken place in this café. Or maybe you had watched too many films about spies and secret agents and such and were now misinterpreting things. It was most likely the latter. After all, you did watch these films often. Very often. At least three times a week, to be exact, and sometimes to the dislike of your friends. But you didn't care because you loved these films.