Deal With The Devil

Aiden Brown

The glass was almost at her lips. Two drops of poison, colourless, odorless and undetectable.

One sip of it and two hours later, she’d end up dead.

That was the plan

Three days of watching her. Three days of memorizing her face, her routines, her rotation.

By the time she walked into that club, I already knew her schedule down to the minute.

When I walked in, she looked nothing like what I’d expected or what had been described to me. She wasn’t some smug billionaire flashing cash. Her legs kept shaking, and she kept looking at the door like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Just as she was about to press the drink to her lips, my handler, Silas, spoke to me through my AirPods to pause the mission

I immediately took the glass from her and poured the contents over my chest, and she thought it was part of the act, not knowing she almost drank herself to her own death.

Her whole body trembled when I touched her like she hadn’t been touched in years.

I knew Silas would still need me to complete the job, so I left a card with my number on it and placed a bet with fifty-fifty chance that she might call.

I had done this way too many times to feel any guilt

One of my burner phones buzzed on my table, dragging me from my thoughts, and I knew exactly who it was even before seeing the number

“Aiden,” my handler, Silas, said the second I picked up

“Boss. What happened with the Raina Cole hit? You told me postpone.”

“We’ve got new orders. You need to get close to her and find out some accounts and vital information about her company. I’ll send you the details.” He always spoke steadily, his voice was never raised nor in a rush

“Get close, how?” I asked

“You’ll improv,” he said. “You’re the best at improvising. Get in. Get it. Don’t get soft.”

He didn’t wait for my response before he hung up.

Just as I was thinking of a way, her call came in

I’d memorized her face from photos. None of them did her justice.

That night at the club, I didn’t let myself think she was beautiful, but meeting her at the rooftop with bright lights grazing her skin, the wind in her hair and that quiet defiance in her eyes, I couldn’t deny it… yeah, she was beautiful.

I exhaled, clearing the thought. I told myself she was just another spoiled billionaire.

A target like all the others.

But she didn’t act like the others.

No cocaine dust under her nails. No sleazy men orbiting her for favors.

Her proposal to be her fake boyfriend aligned perfectly with my plans.

I’d tailed her long enough to learn the rhythm. Two friends who joked that Raina Cole couldn’t be moved by a man if God himself dropped out of heaven shirtless.

Three nights watching her was enough. She didn’t flirt. Didn’t touch. Every man who tried got a polite smile and a colder goodbye.

That was enough for me. The proud ones were always the most satisfying to break.

She looked like she’d pay whatever I asked. But I didn’t want her money. Money was the poison that built people like her.

Besides, I hadn’t had real fun in months. Just jobs, blood, silence.

And her, she was all pride and control. The type who thought no man could touch her.

Maybe I’d enjoy proving her wrong before I ended it.

She smiled when she hired me. If only she knew what she’d really bought.