SCARLET

"I need a map of the quarters, the watchlist, any available pictures of the individuals on the inside, and the main movements in the past three months." I list everything I need to know that probably isn't listed in the file the chairman gave me last Friday while Grey types on his laptop.

The printer starts immediately, and I walk to the door, passing in the tiny space Matheo's huge leaning figure leaves out of the tiny frame.

"I still want that file you've been keeping," he says, turning and following me. If I'm being honest, it's more like he's slowing down to be at my pace, which is not a pleasant feeling, but he's following nonetheless.

"Then follow me," I throw behind me. We get to my office, which is a few doors down, and I unlock the door and walk in, leaving the door open for him to get in.

It doesn't seem that he knows I'm the one who keyed his car, or he might know because he's been extra insufferable today. Either way, his car was squeaky clean this morning, all evidence of my vengeful acts gone to waste.

I lay the file on my desk, and I roll my board to the center of the office, taking off all the papers pinned to it for the senator's mission. I throw them in the paper's trash can. The one that gets shredded before it goes to any landfill site.

"The file?" I turn around, and he's leaning on my office door. He really has to stop doing this. "Listen, Matheo, we're going to work together, so how about you let go of that grudge you hold so tightly because I threw you over the railing and be nice?" I manage to sound sincere, but his expression turns into a frown. Oh, what now?

"I'm not holding any grudges because that was luck, not skill." That smug smirk of his is going to get his face in lots of trouble. Bloody trouble.

"Clearly, my years of training in the ancient art of 'spontaneous spy launching' paid off." I smirk back, because throwing an elephant-sized human is most definitely sheer luck. I turn around, flipping through the file and getting out the tiny map inside, pinning it to the board.

"The file," he insists. I take a deep breath and turn around, facing him. I have held back enough; this man needs a brain reset.

"The printer is right there! Can't men do shit on their own for once? Fucks sake." I run a hand through my hair and turn back to the board.

He's been silent for a few minutes. I drag my eyes to where he's standing. He's staring at me blankly, something in between horror and shock on his face. Okay, I might have overreacted, but he deserves it. He's useless.

I shake my head in disbelief. He doesn't move an inch; he just looks at me like I'm the one sick in the head. Men are so lucky I am bound by law; I would wipe their species off the face of the earth otherwise.

I take the file and go to the printer, pulling out three papers from the file. Oh shit, double shit, it totally went over my head that my printer isn't working, or it is, it'll just take a few hours to print the file.

"What's wrong now?" he asks in the laziest tone ever. Technically, nothing is wrong; the printer is working, but I have to make his life harder, don't I? That's my job as a woman in society.

"Oh, it just totally went over my head that my printer is as slow as a snail. It might take a few hours to print your file." I bat my eyelashes innocently, and he looks pissed. It looks like the feeling is mutual.

"Then why did you drag me with you?" He pops off the wall, walking towards me. What in hell does he think he's doing? Play smug, scar.

"Maybe I just like seeing you follow your infatuation around," I count on my fingers, "for the...third time?" I smirk.

Matheo rolls his eyes and continues walking towards me. Okay, sir, you can stop now. I move back a step, and he gets down to his knees.

"What are you doing?" I ask, and he looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. Oh shit, he thought I was thinking—hell nah, people and their dirty minds.

"Fixing the printer?" He reaches under the printer, his face focused. I have no idea what he's doing; I didn't have time to ask how printers work or how to fix them.

"That's how you fix it? I guess Grey isn't really a printer expert; I'm pretty sure he ordered it to work for his royal ass." I walk back to the board with a few pictures and pin them up. Getting into work mode.

I have to find a way to infiltrate their quarters, but how? I take the file and flip through; there's no information about how I'm supposed to get in without causing any type of disturbance.

"Hey, Matheo?" I don't look at him; his presence in itself is distracting, and we need to get to work. He hums in answer. For once, not adding an unnecessary comment.

"How exactly am I supposed to get in? It says here they have certain programs for guards, which means I can't sneak in, and even if I do, they will most certainly notice a stranger pretending to be... well, them." I flip through some more; maybe I missed something, but there's nothing.

"I'm not sure, but I could sneak you into the servant quadrants," he says, standing up and dusting off his hands. "And? I act as a maid. That is very...foolproof. I mean, they would all definitely welcome me with open arms." It's my turn to add a sarcastic comment. Is this how I'm going to use his expertise? Sneaking me into the servant quadrants?

He walks over to stand beside me, crossing his arms. He eyes the board. "I have no idea," he says, shaking his head. This is going to be great.

"Well, how exactly am I supposed to benefit from your expertise if I'm not even inside?" I fully turn to look at him. "It wasn't really my idea to put us on the mission together, Scarlet." He can't be serious. Men today can't be serious, and I didn't get enough sleep to deal with this.

I take what seems like the fiftieth deep breath of the day and try to think. There has to be some way to get in. "Wait, how did you get in?" If he can get in, so can I. It'll just be harder. Men's privileges and all that.

"We had someone else on the inside introduce me. They have monthly poker nights in bars owned by people they know. I was there, I got challenged, and I won. They started inviting me to events afterwards, but I don't think that route will work for you; they don't really have women in control on the inside." He's right; that won't work.

Think, scarlet, think. Okay, so Matheo got in through a monthly poker night, which is not an ideal route a woman can take. What ideal routes do women take? Seduction, connections, and knowing they're underestimated, but mainly seduction. So how can seduction work in my favor here?

"Do they have partners? Like, occasional girlfriends, one-night stands, even wives?" I ask almost absentmindedly, and I raise my head to look at Matheo. He nods quickly, the gears in his mind catching up to mine.

"One of them has a wife, and most of them come home with women each night, but..." His eyes connect with mine, and I raise my eyebrows as a question. "But they disappear in the morning; they don't stay. And I've never seen a woman with one of them twice," he continues. Okay, so seduction is out.

Okay, now everyone on the inside is either introduced by someone else on the inside or they don't last till the morning. Maybe I can get in with a man and... I don't know. Back to point one.

Matheo was going to sneak me into the servants quadrant, which means there's a way to get in, but the problem isn't in getting in; it's in staying inside for enough time to get information, and I can't risk getting caught by the Russians.

There's a knock on the door. I go to open it, and Grey stands there with a huge pile of paper. I punch up my sleeves and take them from him. "Thank you," I say as I put them on my desk.

"She's not making you ease into it, huh? Just straight to the stress and tears," Grey comments from the door. I add a reminder to close the door next time.

I go through the papers, skipping until I find the watchlist. There are pictures of everyone in their quarters, along with all the known information about the main members. I pin the ones that seem the most important and walk back to see the whole board.

My mind still hasn't come up with a way to get in, which is the most important and hardest part of it all. Getting the information will only be a game of charades and strategy.

I start making a mental list of every person there, from most important to least important, starting with the Russians, who are representing the main and most valuable members, all the way to the guards and the housekeepers.

Hold on, if everyone on the inside has been introduced by someone who was on the inside, then how do they assign guards? Or maids?

"Matheo, how do they assign their guards and maids?" I turn to face him, still holding some papers and pins.

"The guards are usually members in training or active members in the group, but the maids, I'm not sure; most of them are very young and others are very old, so there isn't really a pattern I could identify," he explains, shaking his head. He's frowning now, his eyes roaming over the board, stopping on the faces of some of them with a hint of recognition.

"Grey, do these include the pictures of maids and guards?" I ask, since he seems to have nothing better to do. "Yes, at least the ones we know of," he walks out and locks the door after him.

I grab the rest of the photos from the file and sit on the ground, laying each picture in front of me in sections. One for the maids and housekeepers, one for the guards, and another for unpinned important faces.

"Aren't you going to join me? You know, to work?" I raise my eyebrows at Matheo, who is currently looking at me like I am sitting in my own puke.

"Oh, forgive me if I prefer the radical idea of using a desk. You know, like a civilized human being," he crosses his arms, and I glare at him. With no due respect, Mr. Santiago, but the expertise I'm supposed to benefit from has vanished and is acting like this is his office.

"You really think you look scary, don't you?" That wasn't in the least what I wanted to do, but where's the fun if I can't make him swallow his tongue every once in a while?

"Well, it's not my fault; my mere presence makes your heart go up a notch. And this is not a hotel; your comfort is the last thing on my mind," I say, sorting out the papers. Humans need to get used to knowing the world doesn't revolve around them by now.

He rolls his eyes and sits down without complaining. Because why would he? He's sitting perfectly fine, taking up my entire fucking office floor. I scoot away, but my back hits the couch. I'm so done.

I try my best to sort the papers in what little space we have left on the floor, starting off with the maids. "Do you recognize any of these?" I ask halfway through. He shakes his head and looks at the papers in my hand.

I set down all the other papers, with Matheo recognizing a few here and there, but there aren't any major details about them. Just maids working, which isn't very helpful.

I scan the floor one more time, not sure what I'm looking for—some sort of pattern that relates to age, looks, anything that could explain how these women got there.

One face seems to stand out more than the others: a girl with shining, bright blue eyes and long, curly brown hair. She looks so young...and familiar.

I snatch the paper from the floor and start looking through the files in my mind, but there's no way I could've met this girl before.

I get up and look through the file for her information, papers falling from the pile all around me. I can feel Matheo standing behind me, watching what probably looks like my descent into madness, but I know her. I know I do.

I get to her paper, and there it is: Silva Rodriguez. Oh shit, that's Silva.

I run to the back of my desk and plump into my chair, opening my laptop and typing her name in. Matheo has been dead silent for the past few minutes as I rummaged through the file, which is a relief.

I press enter, and her face pops everywhere. News, social media, and papers in the street glued to stop signs. I click on the latest article written about her story: Silva Rodriguez, the teenager who has been missing for almost a year in mysterious circumstances. Her family was devastated; the case was closed not a month after Silva went missing and was ruled a runaway. But she didn't run away; she was kidnapped.

"They take them off the streets." My voice is almost a whisper; it is disgusting. Abducting eighteen-year-olds off the streets and forcing them to be maids, innocent kids. Making their families believe their beloved children are gone, making them believe they are dead. That is sick.

I lean back in my chair. Matheo is standing beside me, his arm on the chair, and leaning in to get a closer look at my laptop.

His face is mere inches away from mine, his scent invading my nostrils. His smell is a mixture of cleaness and musk, with earthy undertones, and it's addictive. His green eyes are glued to the article, reading about Silva, and for some reason, his closeness makes my heart go up a notch. Men don't do that to me; he shouldn't do that to me.

I clear my throat and stand up from my chair, breaking the endless silence. What is wrong with me? This man tried to kill me twice, one of which included following me into another state.

"So I have to get kidnapped then," I say as I stand with my hands on my hips. Matheo's eyes move from the laptop, and he looks at me for a second too long before bursting into a laugh. I'm not sure what I said that was this funny, but it's a sight to behold.

"You're funny," he says, striding my way. Does he think I'm joking? I mean, it is quite dangerous, but what in my job isn't?

I cross my arms and frown as he continues to laugh, the sight of me acting as a laughing gas. He stops a few seconds later, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. I raise my eyebrows at him. I'm certain all that laughing wasn't necessary; he could just say he doesn't agree. I'll do what I want anyway.

"Oh, shit. You're serious," he says, standing up. I manage to raise my eyebrow even more.

"You're crazy," he mutters. I'm surprised he hasn't heard the rumors yet; if he had a chance to sit with Grey for a few minutes, he would've had an idea what kind of woman he's dealing with.

"I was never sane," I reply, and I get back to work. It's not the first time the male species has had comments on my ways, but I'm still alive, and I'm not waiting for a step-by-step manual on how to do my job. Crazy or not, I'm the best at what I do. And they know it.

I start pinning the pile of unpinned important faces on the board, with the map of the premises in the middle. I walk back to my desk to get the rest of the pictures, but Matheo leans in and puts his hand on them, keeping them on the table.

"You're really not planning on getting kidnapped, are you?" I smile at how naive he still is. Maybe I should let him have that alone time with Grey.

"That's not your problem, darling; your problem is putting their eyes on me." I tap his arm twice, and he lets go. I walk back to the board with the papers and put them on the ground beside me.

"They're not decent people, Scarlet. They don't have an ounce of mercy. They can kill you," he walks to stand in front of me, blocking me from the board. Kill me? Pfft, God knows how many people have tried that and met their fate a little too early.

"Good thing that's my job then." I pat his chest and bend down to get the rest of the papers I wanted to pin, making my board almost complete.