Secret [British Villains]

❥ chapter VII

At this familiar choice of words, you had to suppress a startled gasp. The chair you were sitting on squeaked at the jerky movement of you abruptly straightening your back as though your spine had been replaced by a ruler all of a sudden. The cold grip of fear clutched your core. Had this really been a trap all along, to lure you here and get rid of you in the end? And silly you had fallen for it because of your bloody curiosity. Shame on you!

You heard the door being opened and closed again after someone had entered the room. This certain someone, the mysterious gentleman you had wanted to forget and never meet again, walked up next to you, and you saw him holding out his hand toward you. "Our first encounter was quite ill-starred, wasn't it, Miss [Surname]?"

You hesitated before standing up and turning to him to shake his hand, albeit rather tentatively, but somehow you managed to look him in the eye and noticed that his smile held genuine regret which was right afterwards expressed in his words.

"I deeply regret the circumstances under which we have first met, but I'm afraid I couldn't do anything about it," he said, holding onto your hand a little bit longer than necessary and leaving a tingling feeling there. "Allow me to introduce myself properly, Miss [Surname]. My name is Alex Pettyfer, and I'm pleased to meet you again, this time under better circumstances fortunately."

Astonished by his complete change of heart, you uttered a meek "Pleased to meet you too, Mister Pettyfer," and resumed your seat as he sat down in the chair next to yours. Your mind was racing with a whirlwind of thoughts.

The stranger whose name you had finally got, who had killed two unknown men because of a stolen briefcase with confidential documents of some sort, and who had threatened you to make you keep quiet about that incident—this man, Mr. Pettyfer, evidently was hand in glove with Mr. Strong, and maybe with Mr. Cumberbatch as well.

Mr. Strong had asked you to come here to talk to you, under the pretext of inviting you to a job interview, and this meant that they wanted something from you. Not your secrecy, and not your death either, apparently, because if they had wanted to see you dead, then you would have been by now. But what else could they want from you?

"Do not worry, Miss [Surname]. I assure you that we have no intentions whatsoever of doing harm to you or anyone of your family or friends." Mr. Strong's gentle voice brought you back to reality and caused you to blink a couple of times. He was holding a glass of water in his hand and silently offered it to you, and you accepted it with a few words of thanks. "In fact, we have an offer to make you, if you are interested."

Resisting the urge to nibble at your lower lip and instead having a sip of water, you indicated with a nod of your head that you were indeed interested and also listening.

If your assumptions were right, then you were currently dealing with some kind of secret organisation, and this made your pulse quicken, from both nervousness and excitement. This was just like in one of your beloved films about espionage. But then again, your life wasn't a film, and you were in quite the delicate situation which could possibly have a bad ending for you, you were perfectly aware of that.

"We believe that you would complement our organisation perfectly, Miss [Surname]," Mr. Strong announced.

"And what kind of organisation are you speaking of?"

"I'm afraid that this is a topic we should talk about in a more private environment." He rose from his chair in such a sudden manner that you stood up as well, and so did Mr. Pettyfer next you. "Do you mind accompanying us to our headquarters, Miss [Surname]? It is approximately half an hour's drive away."

Although there still was this uneasy feeling gnawing away at your insides, your answer turned out affirmative. "I don't mind at all." You were curious to find out what all of this was really about. And you were pretty sure that Mr. Strong had spoken the truth when he had assured you that he and his colleagues meant you no harm, thus you didn't have to be afraid of danger lying ahead. But still, that didn't mean that you would let your guard down foolishly.

Mr. Strong bowed his head and walked around the table and toward the door of his office which he deftly opened with the words "Ladies first." You took this as a cue to leave the room, closely followed by Mr. Strong himself who closed and locked the door after Mr. Cumberbatch and Mr. Pettyfer had exited as well. He turned to you again, saying, "If you'd please follow me, Miss [Surname]," and then proceeded to lead you to the back exit of the car dealership, letting you walk through it first again, onto the pavement where a sleek black car (of course from Jaguar) was parked.

While the men still were filing out the building, you were already approaching the car, marvelling at it. It seemed to be straight from the showroom you had been in earlier. Its shiny polished surface was extremely clean, not a single speck of dust or dirt was visible. You wanted to touch it, run your fingers over the metallic black paint to feel its smoothness, but at the last moment—your fingers were already slowly nearing the car's hood—you changed your mind and quickly withdrew your hand. It probably wouldn't make a good impression if you just went and touched the car, your eyes wide in amazement.

Just then, Mr. Cumberbatch hurried past you, causing you to flinch at his sudden appearance in your field of view, and opened the rear door of the car, motioning you to get in with a brief nod of his head. After you had settled in the leather seat—which was, by the way, exceptionally comfortable, and you felt yourself slightly sinking into the seat—he closed the door and slipped into the seat beside yours seconds later, his seatbelt clicking into place at the same time as yours.

Meanwhile, the two other men got in the car as well, Mr. Strong taking the seat behind the steering wheel and Mr. Pettyfer sitting down on the front passenger seat. The car engine came to life with a silky purr as Mr. Strong turned on the ignition, and that purr quickly turned into a roar when he stepped on the gas pedal and drove off.