I went to the kitchen and laid down my plate. I saw two maids cleaning up. They looked very busy, so I thought I might help them after all their hard work.
"Is there anything I can help with?" I asked in a soft tone.
They turned around, looking rather shocked, and started panicking a little.
"Oh, Miss, no…no… Is there anything you need?" one of the maids said, panicking and raising her voice. The other maid looked like she had seen a ghost; she was staring at me. The first maid said, "Sorry, ma'am, it's just that none of Sir's guests have ever come here. Sorry for showing you discomfort." She spoke, then lowered her head.
"Oh, please, it's okay, and I'm not such a formal guest, just a work partner or something like that. Please don't apologize like that. I've been in a job like this as well, so don't worry about such protocols. I'm Ruth, by the way," I said with a warm smile, extending my hand to one of the maids.
She took it readily, and immediately her facial expression calmed down and she smiled. "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Ruth. I'm Grace, and this is Kendal," she said, shaking my hand.
I shook hands with Kendal as well. Then, I went up to my room. When I entered, I noticed a small box placed on the bed. I went over, feeling curious, but when I opened it, I saw my stuff—mostly just my toiletries and makeup supplies that were in my dresser.
I set the box on the dresser and checked my phone again to see if I had gotten any replies from Lucas, but he had left me on "seen." I tried calling him, but he didn't pick up. Just then, I received a text from Marcs:
"I suppose you're coming back today. I need details, and your first task is ready. I need an important document. It's in a brown envelope with Dylan's signature on the top right corner. You need to get it by tomorrow and start working now. Don't forget your place here, Danan. Your payments are getting thin. Dustin has cut your payments due to slow work. Mind checking your bank balance, little toy?"
I checked my bank balance quickly, and my face turned pale looking at the figure. He had made a payment of heavy cash, but now it was all reduced to a pathetic 50 dollars. I scoffed and felt angry and frustrated at the same time—fifty dollars, that's it, nothing else. I was zero on cash. I read the text again and cringed at him calling me a "little toy." I didn't text back immediately; I took a couple of minutes to think of a genuine reply and tried not to sound so desperate in front of him.
"Hello, yes, I will get that document to you soon. I start working tomorrow, so I will look for it and send pictures over as soon as I get my hands on it."
I sent him the message and then hugged a nearby pillow tightly, as if it could shield me from the rush of emotions overwhelming me. My heart raced in my chest, each beat striking like a blow to my stomach, rendering me breathless and queasy. I lay on the bed, trembling, and closed my eyes tightly, attempting to block out the wave of anxiety crashing over me. I struggled to steady myself with deep, unsteady breaths amidst the growing dread that seemed to suffocate me from within. Each moment dragged on, the burden of uncertainty becoming heavier and heavier, causing my insides to twist and churn with an unrelenting, sickening intensity.
"It's okay, you are still getting paid for this secretary thing. It's okay, you got this, Ruth. You have done things like this before. It's nothing new. You got this. Keep cool, calm, and stay collected."
I got up to divert myself from my feelings and started placing my things on the dresser, organizing them. This room was given to me for a couple of days, and my stuff was here, so I might as well place it somewhere. When I was done, taking about five rounds from the dresser to the bathroom and taking a slight walk in my defense, I finally snapped out of my mindset. I scoffed as I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and finally placed the toiletries down on the sink counter.
I splashed cold water on my face, breathed heavily, and felt the cold water finally calming down all my nerves. I wiped my face with a towel, and just then, the door of my room knocked.
"Come in," I stated, stepping out of the bathroom. I saw Kendal coming inside.
"Miss, Mr. Fynder has asked me to ask you if there is anything you need help with while getting dressed or anything you need?"
I replied with a soft smile, "Oh no, I'm good. I don't need anything. Thank you for asking."
She nodded and left the room. I walked over to the closet, which was very spacious to my surprise. This was the only vintage piece in the room. There were about twenty dresses hung up and some other clothes folded and lined around the space.
I was accompanying Dylan to a morning event, so I needed something casual yet formal. I started looking through the clothes and decided on an outfit: black loose jeans paired with a cream crop top connected with a few thread knots at the front. There were also different coats hanging, so I chose a brown long coat because October winds can get chilly. I matched black ankle boots with the outfit.
Out of curiosity, I opened the single cupboard which had many drawers in it. I opened one and saw jewelry lined neatly there. There was a small note that read, "Hope you find something comfy to wear, Danan."
Something twisted in my stomach. I thought that Dylan arranged all of this for me—obviously to accompany him on trips and all—but he could have had me buy the dresses on my own. Instead, he bought all this. It was nothing I expected from Dylan; it was a pretty good gesture.
Yes, only a good friendly gesture.
I picked out a pair of small pearl earrings and placed them on the dresser. Then, I went to take a hot shower, which cozied up my body. After showering, I wrapped myself in a bathrobe placed there.
I checked the time once I stepped out of the shower. It was around nine; I still had an hour to get ready, and thank God my hair dried out quickly because I loved my long hot showers. It was one of the few things I enjoyed in my life.
I started getting ready, firstly applying a soft layer of makeup, then changing into the outfit I had picked out. I left my hair down in soft wavy curls. I looked at myself—I had forgotten what I really looked like when I got ready. I never really dressed up with my natural look; it would always be in disguise with some wigs, dye, or different face makeup. I never looked like me.
Now I did, and to my surprise, I didn't look that bad. I was decent for once.
The nerves started growing again as I opened the room door and stepped out. God, this is all so overwhelming if you just think about it for a minute, but it's fine—it is what it is.
I walked over to the stairs and walked down. Halfway down, I saw him standing, looking at his phone. Then he turned his head and looked at me, a soft smile appearing on his face, but it was very slight, almost a faded one.
He was dressed in form-fitting black jeans that emphasized his strong legs, paired with a cream polo shirt that clung to his muscular arms, flexing with every subtle movement. His eyes, a captivating shade, seemed to shimmer with an irresistible allure, drawing you in deeper. At that moment, his presence became even more magnetic, exuding an air of seductive confidence. His eyes shined even more at that moment.
I stepped down and passed a small smile to him. He nodded a little and looked at his watch. "I am waiting for you outside," he said, walking towards the door and stepping outside.
I followed him out, my stomach turning and twisting a little as I walked outside. A classic black Mustang waited for us. Dylan opened the door for me at the front, and I sat inside. He took the driver's seat and started driving out to the location.
He looked really good holding the steering wheel with one hand and driving to the place; it made him look more attractive. His face was more peaceful than I had seen in the past few days. I kept my eyes down, occasionally peeking small glances at him, and I couldn't help but smile a little. I felt kind of safe in the car; it was nice and comforting in a way I hadn't felt in years. It was still early morning, and I could see people walking, doing their work, and all.
I was never a morning person. It was always late-night shifts at that slavery center, or some cafe, or me being insomniac most nights. Something about Dylan calmed my nerves, especially when we had that long pause when I walked downstairs. My heart skipped multiple beats, and I wondered why. The hatred inside me always calmed down a little. I didn't want him dead—not yet. I guess I could say he looked changed. His eyes had softened, and something was different. I wanted to know what.
My sly smile washed off as I processed that I had to tell Dylan about Marc's text and ask him which file he needed. I'm guessing from today I'm taking bigger steps in this business. I had been trained to lure men and slice a few cuts on them, no matter if they were big drug dealers or had societal value. I still managed to get the job done. But getting caught in this and having Dylan run me as a double agent was far too difficult.
He started driving somewhere around the busy city streets, which soon pulled apart into spacious roads. He drove to a more posh area of the city. He finally looked at me, and a soft, low chuckle escaped his mouth.
"Why are you gawking at me? It's been 15 minutes, Danan. I get that I look exactly like everything you dreamed of, but come on," he said coldly.
I scoffed in shock. "I was not gawking at you. It's just... it's an awkward car ride, and I'm just looking around." I felt my cheeks flush because, truthfully, I had been looking at him from time to time, and I kind of liked the view. His face and body were perfectly sculpted; there wasn't a single flaw in him, and I just wanted to keep looking. He looked like the kind of guy you see in movies—always perfect.
The scar on his right eye made him look even more attractive. It wasn't a deep wound, just a slight scar you wouldn't notice at first, not until you were sitting close to him. I hadn't even seen it during breakfast. I wondered how he got it.
He looked at me and then rolled his eyes, scoffing, but not in a teasing way. This was followed by a slight smile. He then turned the steering wheel and said, "We are here," taking off his seat belt.
I quickly fixed my hair and stepped out of the car, my heart pounding with anticipation. He walked around to my side, his movements purposeful and confident. As he stood next to me, he came incredibly close, and we paused, the world around us fading into a blur. His eyes met mine, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down my spine, like a lion fixating on a gazelle.
His breath mingled with mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Every inch of me was hyper-aware of his presence, and the air between us crackled with electric tension. Time seemed to stand still as we remained locked in that moment, the unspoken connection between us deepening with each passing second.
"Shall we go?" I said, feeling nervous. My soul still flinched at him getting closer. There were still parts of me that were scared of him, but I wished they weren't, especially when I was trying to work under him.
"Yeah, we should," he said, tearing his eyes away from me, and we started walking inside the gallery.
We entered through a large metal gate and were immediately greeted by the breathtaking sight of a vast garden. The vibrant colors of countless roses, meticulously arranged in neat rows along the sides, painted a mesmerizing picture. Each rose bush seemed to compete for attention, displaying shades of red, pink, yellow, and white, their fragrances mingling in the air to create an intoxicating blend. The trees were adorned with elegant blue ribbons, fluttering gently in the breeze, adding a whimsical and festive touch to the surroundings.
At the heart of this gorgeous landscape stood a big white mansion, its clean walls accentuated by crisp black accents that highlighted its architectural splendor. The mansion's windows shone in the sunlight, reflecting the lush foliage and riot of colors in the garden. This centerpiece was both imposing and inviting, a great focal point that grabbed attention and promised further surprises inside.
As I took in the scene, I realized that this was more than just a simple gathering—it was an open event, perhaps a floral exhibition. The vastness of the space allowed for easy movement, and the thoughtful arrangement of plants and decorations spoke to a deep appreciation for beauty and nature. Pathways meandered through the garden, inviting visitors to explore and immerse themselves in the serene yet vibrant atmosphere.
The combination of the meticulously maintained garden, the festive decorations, and the elegant mansion created a sense of grandeur and tranquility. It was a place where one could easily spend hours, admiring the floral arrangements, enjoying the fresh air, and soaking in the peaceful ambiance.
Dylan told me to stay close to him as we walked further inside the place and saw a small crowd of people gathered. Dylan talked with his business partners while I stayed right behind him. My social anxiety was on a roller coaster; one moment I was loving it here, then my stomach started turning again. I kept my face soft and friendly, not giving any signs of anxiety. Dylan stayed with me and made sure I was behind him. I thought I could mingle around, but it was nice having his presence near.
We were walking when a man dressed in a light pink suit approached him. "Hello, Mr. Fynder, fancy seeing you here," he said, extending his hand, which Dylan shook with great force.
"Nice seeing you here as well, Mr. Richard," Dylan said in a colder, calm tone. Dylan's facial expressions clearly stated that he didn't like the guy very much.
"Well, I see two wonderful things. One, that you have spare time to attend small events and not look into picking up my calls, hmm? And second, my, my, what a pretty young lady you have here as a date. What's your name, dear?" he smirked, holding my hand and kissing it.
Disgust took over my face, but I played along. "I'm Ruth, sir. It's nice meeting you as well." He let go of my hand, and I forced a small smile.
Dylan's face turned cold. "She is my secretary. I hope you will respect her boundaries, Mr. Richard, and as for business calls, I am not obligated to any one client. I will look into it when I want to."
Mr. Richard took the hint and said, "Very well. I will see you around here then." He nodded and left. I knew he wanted to argue, but I guess he didn't want to make a scene.
Dylan turned towards me and sharply said, "I have to make a few calls. I'll be there. Let me know if you need anything, Danan. Got it?"
I nodded nervously and replied, "Got it." Then he walked away to make some calls while I went over and looked at some yellow roses. I admired them for a while, and soon Dylan stood next to me and asked, "You like the yellow ones, huh?"
"I do. These were my mom's favorite flowers. She would get some if she ever saw them in the market or any garden." I told him, gulping down the chunk of air that was stuck for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry about what happened," he said in a low tone, still looking at the flowers.
"It's okay now. It's been years—rough ones, but I can handle it and hey i also forgot to thank you for the earings these r really pretty." I felt like an idiot. Why was I telling him this?
" your welcome its a small gift and you needed it,You handled it well, Ruth. That time was rough," he added, nodding and looking at me with his gaze softened.
I tried to change the subject. "So, who was that Mr. Richard?"
Dylan's eyes shifted towards me and then around the trees. "Well, you could say he's a guy envying my business and wanting to steal some information badly," he said, his face remaining calm and collected.
"Oh, speaking of stealing information, I received a text from Marcs. He told me that I need to get a file from your cabin, which was in a brown case and had your signature on the top right," I told him confidently, though half hesitantly.
"Hmm, so he's onto my specific files. The only ones that are signed contain dealing information: locations, exchange centers, and loot areas. I'll give you a revised version of that file, which you will give to him," he said, looking over at me. "What else did he say?"
"Nothing else, only that," I said firmly.
Dylan nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Good. We'll handle it this way to ensure he gets what he wants without compromising our operations." He glanced around, then back at me. "Stay close, and don't hesitate to let me know if you feel uncomfortable or need anything."
As we continued to walk through the garden, I felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. The conversation had shifted, but the weight of my role as a double agent pressed heavily on my mind.