I woke up, my wrists aching. As my eyes flickered open, the gleam of my alarm clock stared me right in the face and I came back to my senses.
7:30
I had an hour and a half. I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips and sat up whilst pulling back the duvet off my bare legs. The room was cool but not to the point of shivering. Tossing my hair into a bun, I walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Steam immediately filled the room and warmed my skin.
After my shower, I wandered into my room and sat in front of the mirror. I don't really bother with make up that much so I just did some pretty basic stuff followed by drying my hair and brushing it out. I threw on a black and white striped, Long-sleeved top, a skirt with a zip all the way up the front and fishnet tights. Before I left I pulled my hair back into a weak, low ponytail. Done.
8:45
Bennet Street was a 25 ish minute walk from my house. I was obviously going to be late but then again I'm always late...to everything... so do I care? Nah.
Arriving at the location I started up to see a huge, Victorian brick building with a Latin slogan etched in stone across the front. Unsurprisingly, I don't speak Latin so I can't translate; probably something biblical.
I was faced with two, large, black double doors and I reach out my finger to buzz the intercom. There were no signs to say I was in the right place other than a simple door number: 59.
The intercom buzzed to life.
"Name and business"
"Uhhh...Rose Jameson and I was told to come here"
"By who?" The voice was blunt and straight to the point.
"By Ian..erm.... oh Lambert. Ian Lambert."
"Enter"
Blunt; straight to the point again. Alright then.
As a lock clicked in front of me, I pushed a huge, black door open and entered with slight caution.
The door slammed shut behind me and I was faced with an incredibly elaborate entrance hall. A crystal chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling in three layers and the floor was tiled like a black and white chess board. A grand staircase with shallow marble steps led up to higher floors in the back on the space. The handrails were black metal and intricately designed flowing along side the stairs. There we brown leather sofas either side of the entrance, both with small coffee tables with them. All the walls were a cream tinted white; slightly cleaner than ivory. There were two wide corridors leading off both sides. It was...magnificent.
A man - slightly shorter than me and dressed in a black and white suit - strided into the hall with some files under his arm.
"Ah Miss Jameson you've arrived. Finally" He looked as if he was trying to refrain from rolling his eyes.
"Please, it's Rose. And you are?"
"Chad McKinley. I'm the lead secretary here at Assassinateurs. Whenever you're on a job I'll be the one you contact should anything go wrong or you need help. I'll organise anything and everything you need and I'm a former assassin myself."
Chad McKinley. The man was fairly muscular with a clean cut suit. He had brown, swept over hair; longer on top, shorter underneath. He appeared from well groomed and clean kept and his voice showed that too.
"Wow, that's cool. So...where are we going?"
"Follow me right this way up to Ian, he's been waiting for you." He said with a slight raise in his brow. I don't know why he did that but it made me uncomfortable.
As we began walking we started up the staircase. The metal of the handrail was ice cold and both our shoes clicked against the marble steps.
We reached the top of two flights before the stairs began to narrow and carry on going upwards.
The corridor that we turned down to the left had a large arch as it's ceiling and was lined with extravagant paintings. The walls behind it were a slightly dull white and it had mini chandeliers running down it, lighting it.
This place screamed wealth and status.
We reached a surprisingly small office door to say it was the CEO's. Chad knocked what sounded like a sort of code and before long the door was opened.
We were faced with the man I met yesterday and another man he'd clearly just finished talking to. Early twenties? Late teens?
But wow... this man was.... was..... wow.
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Hiya so this isn't proofread again ✌️
Sorry it took longer to update, this chapter took longer to write.
Hope you love it byeeee
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Everyone Has A Reason
General Fiction"I am not a murderer. I'm a contract killer." Everyone has a reason as to why they do things. Just like every assassin has a reason for doing what they do. Killing people. But how did Rose get into it? And why? How will people treat her if they find...
