| ᴏɴᴇ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

     Nobody ever suspects a woman. Adina side-eyed herself in the glass of the indoor aquarium and had the same impression she had in her hotel's bathroom mirror: drop-dead gorgeous. Her gaze shifted from the strappy sterling silver shoes on her French pedicured feet to the black Cleopatra dress that clung to her curves perfectly, the pearl bodice chain draped over her shoulders, nude-colored lips, kohl smokey-eyed hazel irises, and the wig on her head; long and straight with blunt bangs.

    Adina kept her eyes on the prize sitting just across the room. Since her childhood, people have lavished her with compliments about her beauty. When she refocused her attention on the primary target in question, the setting appeared to transform into a full-fledged party. Pleasant aromas permeate the air, courtesy of fine booze and delicious amuse-gueules being served on silver platters.

   His name is Harrison Wilkes, ranked fourth on Forbes' "The Real Billionaire" list, among a sea of other rich and powerful dicks. He is the owner of his own law firm, and he undoubtedly represents half of the assholes in his vicinity. Luckily, his true comical and rambunctious nature does not obscure his striking good looks.

   His profile describes him as a well-bred mix of attractiveness, wealth, and achievement. It's highly expected of someone his age and tenure to be settled down somewhere, preferably in the suburbs, and establish an all-too-perfect nuclear family. Meanwhile, he hasn't fully matured in terms of relationships. He's still in the same frame of mind as he was in his twenties.

   One of his most recent relationships was a long-term engagement, one with a Victoria's Secret model and the other with an actress. Of course, both ended in heartbreak; the girls were always the ones who called it quits first, moving on to a wealthier, older gentleman.

   There was no other way to put it. Adina observed a man internally lost and miserable and saw right through his facade. Who's to say he won't gain all his heart's desires one day? Adina can't since she's at his private birthday celebration in his Hamptons estate. Her boss wanted his head. Her first and foremost directive is to fulfill his wishes. So he will have his head.

  "Vixen?"

   Someone addressed her by codename. She cocked her head to look them in the eyes. A dark-haired gentleman in a burgundy Calvin Klein suit sat across from her at the table. Vlad the Impaler Except for her, his piercing blue leer would send shivers up anyone's spine. She was impervious to his aloof and unabashed charm, just as he was to hers.

  It's said that the art of seduction is a psychological game rather than one of beauty and that in order to master it, one must first understand the world. They are both masters. They were natural charmers with complementary abilities, so they got paired together for this mission. The only difference was that Vlad didn't have to strive as hard.

   He lured his victims into traps without effort, enslaving them both emotionally and cognitively, and while they could not detach from his grip, he would strike. He wears his apathy like a second skin, making him difficult to read, yet they communicate effectively in a wordless interaction.

  'Are you ready?' With the rise of a dark bushy brow, his bright electric blue eyes, each of which had the richest strands of caramel swirling at their center, appeared to challenge.

  A small smirk curled her scintillating mouth, sparing no hesitancy as the glance conveyed none other than, 'Always.'

  This was going to be a blast indeed.

.

.

.

.

    The festive atmosphere did not appeal to him. The loud music, the variety of cuisine he didn't care for, the people—oh, the entire shebang wasn't how he wanted to spend his afternoon. He didn't usually go to parties, but he had to make an exception today since it was his thirty-first birthday, and his best pals had the good grace to surprise him at home.

 "Dude, ex-girlfriends are a pain in the ass. When they say, "Let's be friends," it's almost like a kidnapper saying, "We'll stay in touch." Rambles on Kirk, Harrison's best friend since they were both in diapers.

  "Word, Broseph, "Girls believe they're so much better than us males," Micah adds, "and I'm like, "Hey, I can remove 90% of your beauty with a damp tissue." Another wave of laughter erupts from the group as a result of that revelation.

   Harrison detested the blatant display of sexism. Women are a strong species compared to males, and they can do almost anything a guy can do. Harrison admired women or at least attempted to because his previous relationships were a bust. He laughed nonetheless in an attempt to avoid hurting his companion's fragile egos over not selling a killer joke.

  "How about you, man?" Simon, a senior associate at his firm, inquires. "Harry?" The proprietor in question blinked but maintained a bright grin, tipping his head slightly over to peer at the young lawyer on the rise.

  So, "What about me?" He didn't want to think he knew where this was headed, but his thoughts couldn't help but tilt toward the apprehension that was all too familiar to him.

  "Wouldn't you consider yourself an expert on the ladies and tell us exactly what we're doing wrong? Given your experiences and all. "

   And so there it goes. The burning question that's on everyone's mind is an instant party killer. Giving a response might impede the healing process, but Harrison can't bear the past emerging from the depths that he buried so deep in order to move on. He feels grateful for the lack of solitude somewhere deep within him. But like all their hangs, their private lives get divulged as though the media doesn't do enough of that already.

   All eyes were on him, waiting with bated breath to see how he would react to this without collapsing into a colossal heap of grief. Before anybody realized it, he went still, his head elsewhere, and his mouth wide open, before any words could fill the air.

   The others gathered around him exchanged bewildered glances and murmurs, perplexed by his abrupt change of behavior, but none of it mattered to the entranced man. He saw her not too far away, the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen.

   She defies description in the most general sense, with her supple-looking skin like silky caramel and inspiring a world of strange warmth that radiates in all directions in his gut. She was clad in silk and diamonds and exuded finesse as if she were the personification of the word. Rouge highlighted the delicate angles of her cheekbones, nude tinged her plump lips, kohl emphasized her hazel eyes, and a dusky shimmer on her lids.

    He watched her as she drank wine greedily, her lips wrapped around the rim of the glass greedily as though she desperately needed escape. At that moment, to gaze upon her felt like a sin whilst she drank flute after flute of white wine. He couldn't shake the desire to grant her everything, from the world to his heart. Perhaps she holds the secret to all of life's mysteries and can give his existence value.

   What he had with those he'd called himself love in the past, perhaps those relationships withered on the vine for a reason, led him to this precise moment when he'd set eyes on her. He hoped for a miracle that he'd encounter his soulmate who was completely compatible with him. For the time being, fortune seemed to be on his side. However, whether he seizes it is entirely up to him. Would he take that risk again, putting his heart on the line all because of a rash premise?

  "Hello, anyone home?" Simon waved his hand over Harrison's dumbfounded face. Harry! "

   Life is just too short to not take chances. "Yeah, I'll be right back," he said as he leaped to his feet and strode through the grumbling throng of disgruntled men before proceeding to the bar, where destiny awaited in the guise of a lovely creature wallowing in a lake of misery and exorbitant booze. Being a suave multi-billionaire ahead of his own business was one of the key factors that drew women to him, and it didn't hurt that he was also attractive.

  Harrison felt a powerful urge to travel back in time and revisit the lives of his former lovers, realizing that perhaps he had been nothing more than a fine coat to them. If he hadn't been so blindly in love, chances are he would've been smarter, paying them more attention rather than showering them with diamonds and unreachable global vistas.

  "You are overly generous. You do, and it's suffocating. When you're around, I can't breathe.

   Less likely to crave transparency, as in both relationships, and to let a lack of communication trigger notions of adultery. Because such suspicion produces a corrosive atmosphere that is detrimental to lovers,

  "How come you can't fucking believe me?" Harry, only you own my heart. Nobody else. Please be aware of this. "

   He's matured from his previous engagements. It would be a big adjustment. As the sole means to show his affection, he'll forego gifts. Communication will take place. He intends to be better this time. You learn from your mistakes and evolve as an individual as a result of them. Even in the most challenging feats, progress ensures triumph.

   He reached her from behind, preparing to tap her on the shoulder to draw her attention. Though he didn't purposefully inhale her perfume, the mix of cinnamon and lilac cloyed the air and infiltrated his nose. Oddly, he pictured himself immersed in her scent, allowing it to seep into his pores and pervade every aspect of his home. Every morning, he'd wake up to it, suffocatingly sweet and addicting on his tongue...

   A big, inked hand grips her wrist out of nowhere. She flinches, and some of the wine spills out from her flute, soaking her dress. Every sensual fantasy he's had up to this point crumbles the instant he's forced to see this invasion of personal space.

  " It's been an hour! You made me search for you for an hour. It should've occurred to me that you'd be here tits deep in booze. " The tall, raven-haired, blue-eyed figure, decked out in finery that belies the twenty pounds of muscle he's packing underneath, inched closer to her, his words dripping with a thick British accent as he hissed angrily into her ear. "I told you we were leaving,"

   Harrison was rooted in place by restraint, if not already dreading this male's imposing presence. The commotion, on the other hand, has everyone's attention. Even the bartender paused in the middle of making a drink for an eager customer to witness this trainwreck. Who was he?

   Something dangerous lurked within the stare she flashes him—unbothered, maybe, but pandemonium boiling under the surface. She bent her head slightly in his direction, her plump mouth almost brushed against his chiseled jaw. It indicates that his loutish manner is not just one she is used to, but also a manner that vexes her. Maybe that's why she's halfway through a bottle of wine and on the precipice of utter self-destruction. "Since when was it ever a crime to have a few drinks?"

    A whirlwind of emotions sweeps across the young Billionare's body the moment her voice sounds. Husky but light and also seductively sugary enough to make an unsuspecting person dizzy, but yearning for more. He can't quite put his finger on it, but it made him euphoric and ravenous. He longed to be engulfed in her words—poisoned from sinful thoughts—the more he heard them. "Liven up. We're at a party after all." She tips back her drink to prove her point.

   No one sees it coming, but the fellow slaps the glass from her fingers, his face flushed with rage. The blindingly swift motion launches it towards the bartender who is still paying attention rather than working, ricochets off him before he has time to recover, and lands on the partygoer who is regrettably still waiting for their order. His fingers wrap around her chin then he yanked her closer to eye level. "Don't think you can be cheeky like I'm scared to teach you a lesson solely because we're not alone, pisshead."

  Harrison felt compelled and empowered to put a stop to this situation before it spirals out of hand. She is visibly shaking, and in his unyielding hold, she is likely to turn into a puddle of trepidation and shame. Despite the fact that there was a party going on right now, Harrison preferred for things to stay peaceful. This was his home.

   "Piss off, apeman,". She then seethes through perfect pearly white but clenched teeth, and that does it. He vehemently objected to her defiance with a snarl and moved his grasp from her cheeks to the back of her neck. Her body is thrown forward in a heartbeat—a cry could not be heard until she slams onto the counter face first. 

   A collective breath was held for the rest of the crowd, who were forced to see the couple's violent conflict. Her features were hidden behind her brown coiffed hair, but her shoulders bounced with each gut-wrenching pained sob that could be seen as well as heard.

  His insides twist with disgust as he stands on the sidelines, fuming and watching yet another incidence of one male figure imposing his toxic masculine superiority over a woman. He couldn't decide what to do. While he suffers too vividly seeing himself being torn in half if he ever decided to step in. Still, something had to be done, and quick.

  She rises slowly and unexpectedly, twisted around in her seat, and reclined against the marble counter, still sobbing. The bartender is next to her in less than a second, bombarding her with frantic questions like 'Are you okay?' or 'Is anything broken?' but she appears to be done more than anything else. With each intake of air, her lover's massive chest fell heavier, as did hers. 

   "I don't love you anymore, and with the love I blindly gave you, I should love myself more," She says. "I tried to be patient with you when everyone else believed you were nothing more than a ticking time bomb ready to explode, And I should've known better than to not believe them."

    His punching bag used to be her body, but that was no longer the case. He takes a step forward and prepares to strike her. The lady does not shrink in the face of the all-powerful hand's impending wrath. Instead, she stares him down, ready to take the hit and bounce back. This will be the last this man will harm her in front of Harrison and his guests. They'd see the ugliness—the beast towering in the guise of a beautiful man.

  Time slows amid those few fleeting seconds his hand falls and what happens next rouses another wave of gasps from the rounding crowd. Harrison Wilkes, the man of the hour, holds back the hellraiser's hand before it can inflict any more pain than it already has more than anyone present was aware of outside the knowledge between the two quarreling lovers.

   "You heard her. You're done. Now Leave or I'll make you." Surprised by his own willingness to become involved in their problems and the amount of animosity in the unwavering ultimatum he thoughtlessly made while being aware that the intemperate figure with every inch of him being pure muscle and undiluted strength that could knock the young billionaire's lights out if the opportunity presented itself. 

   Regret does not soften his resolve, especially when he becomes the subject of a callous pair of eyes giving him a perturbed once-over. 'The audacity' and 'I'll murder this asshole,' they appear to exclaim as they peer into him, pulling Harrison apart limb by limb as he seemed prepared and more than pleased to do.

  "And you are?" The question is mild, yet his stare is severe. Everyone knew who he was, but it didn't show through his steely countenance if the question disturbed him.

  "This estate's enraged owner, whose party you just wrecked. So, once again, get out before I call security."

   He then pretends to scour his brain for any recollection connected to the information he just received rather than doing what was just asked of him twice, like the typical asshole asking for trouble. The understanding of who he was then seemed to hit him, given the fact that it's been iterated to him. 

  "Oh yes, I remember the rich twat who got his arse handed to him all because he placed his nose where it doesn't belong."

   He yanks himself loose from Harrison's clutches after the insult, needing nothing else to say to him. Given that the man's sheer presence and displayed physique illustrated that he could crush the Managing Business Partner under his Alessandro Galet Oxford shoe, being insulted in front of all his friends and colleagues, and laying hands on a helpless woman was enough to make him forget that awareness.

  "Allow the grownups to speak while you run along. I'd hate to have to sully that pretty face."

   He intends to warn via his remarks, but his bottom lip juts out, taunting to draw Harrison in and fight for the hell of it. Assholes like him make him sick to his stomach to exist on earth. Exuding power and dominance over others because they assume they can. 

   Every day, he gets out of bed ready to deal with them, whether it's in passing or a client paying top dollar for his assistance in the courtroom, and often refrained from socking them in the face. He firmly believed in progress, and assaulting someone simply because you don't like them won't do you any favors in front of a judge, other than being laughable.

  "Didn't you hear what I've just said? Piss off twat." He shoved him back urging Harrison backward a few steps.

  Fuck progress. A ball of rage lands on his flawless jaw, the asshole sails backward over the counter past his trembling self-proclaimed ex-lover in distress, and objects either fall over or shatter, and frightened-shocked gasps fill the air.

    Panting, Harrison turned to face her, not feeling his friends or coworkers come around him, slapping him on the back and praising him. He didn't see the ladies or guys casting looks in his direction lust filling their longing stares, and he didn't notice security storming in to haul the disoriented root of tonight's mayhem out the door.

   Her hazel eyes scrutinized him, her savior. The wide-eyed expression she wears said it all: No one ever stood up for her. People either recognized her suffering but turned the other cheek or were completely oblivious to it.

   He could tell they were alike because she gritted her teeth through the misery and wore bruises as a reminder that the guy she loved would never change, despite her best efforts. They were both suckers, anchored in their conviction in the goodness of people.

   Deniability above common sense, as evidence, proved to them time after time again that those they refused to let go would never change. They were always the favored victims of love, pinned under its thumb and left to merely be crushed, their desire to live dissipated in the breeze. Meanwhile, here they are, his intervention spared them both.

  "Are you all right?" Though filled with concern and partly swallowed up by the mob behind roaring fervor, the question felt vain. Perhaps she carries bruises as well as scars that required tubes and tubes of concealer to obscure, but they are not to be surpassed by the emotional ones.

   However she isn't outraged, she doesn't shout, and she doesn't spring to claw her bedazzled french press nails into his eyes. A laugh trickles out instead. Presumably, one of relief crinkling her nose and eyes whilst more tears dripped free and fell down her face. 

  She pressed the back of her trembling hand and covered the radiate smile as though gathering her wits testing if this was real. But there was no need to question reality or fate as it seemed. Finally, she was free.

  And nodding, "Yeah," she hiccups.

  He couldn't be happier that he let his buddies keep the spare key.

-

 A/N -

Word  Count: 3554

      Here it is!! The first chapter of Deadly Assistant. I won't even begin to tell you how many times I revised this chapter. I will tell you though, it wasn't easy trying to decide how I wanted to introduce Adina/Vixen but I can promise you it'll rock you to your very core. Never did I ever think one day I would create a main character that unsettles me. But enjoy!!! Also, this chapter is dedicated to sweet, starynightae she's been so encouraging when I told her I was struggling to upload this chapter. Honestly without their BTS fanfic 'Freckles', this fanfic wouldn't exist. Thanks for the inspiration girl and if you're looking to delve into your latest BTS polyamorous relationship obsession. Go check 'Freckles' out. 

Until next time,  bbdqqce1