He was never supposed to know and I was never supposed to fall in love. I am a Moretti–Ruthless and cold. I sat there, at my desk and flipped through the pages of each member's file. All of them–IMF agents. Too bad, they won't last that long even with my charms.
"Ma'am?" A voice of one of my men lured me back to earth. One name in particular made me intrigued.
A little too intrigued. "He is my target... I can handle it from my way... and you will clean up anything that will lead to us. Don't be fucking stupid, or he will catch us," I say closing the current file labeled–Ethan Hunt.
"I'll act as though you've kidnapped me," I add, tossing the file onto the desk, roughly–a smile making it's way to my face.
"But Boss... Won't Hunt be suspicious?," he asks. Planting both of my palms, and get up–smirking.
"Are you doubting me?"
"No Boss..."
"Then... bring me the rope and something sharp, and here is what you do."
**
The chair was sturdy enough. I instructed them well. Blood trickled, hands were tied by rope, and my hair–disheveled. It's a crime against hairstylists. "How far are they?" I ask him.
"1 hour..." he replied, looking at the phone.
"As soon as they are 5 minutes away, that knife should be against my neck.... and then say what I told you... Fuck it up and this entire thing goes in flames," I reply.
The hour was agonizing, waiting for the fish to bite the bait. If he fuck's up, even for one second. "If this doesn't sound natural, you are fired. You hear me?"
"Yes, Ma'am..." he says gulping.
**
With five minutes to go, and I believe they will be here soon. 'Throat... you idiot' I mouth and he finally positions it right against my jugular–like he's going to rip it open. The footsteps of his arrival was the final signal to all this.
I started to cry–although I knew it was very much fake. And the idiot who was supposed to be here with the knife where I needed it to be disappeared.
Ethan Hunt was in the room now. "Hey—hey, it's okay," he said, already closing the distance, cutting the rope at my wrists.
"Ethan..." my voice came out hoarse.
He kept slicing the rope, and it finally gave way. And I fell toward him, into his arms. Perfect. Everything was falling in place. I gripped at his clothes, being natural and intentional with how he should perceive me.
Good, he will never think a woman was behind the biggest technology crash that is about to happen. And soon... But right now, I need weed my way into his heart.
"You're okay," he whispered into my ear, before helping me out of my own mansion. It seems Luther is waiting in that van.
A small smirk passes through but I quickly schooled my expressions.