by Julie Huleux
The gaze of Number Six had slipped to her incessantly since she had left the bedroom. He was at her heels, and she had not even gratified him with a glance. The poor man had no idea how difficult it had been for her to compose herself after their morning meeting. So she ignored and taunted him. If it could cause another erection, she would feel avenged!
Four gorillas from security were close to the table, in the grand sitting room that had views over the zen garden. It was 10am and only the sound of the silver spoon spreading marmalade on a bread roll broke the silence.
The sound of footsteps resounded on the wooden floor. They announced the master of the premises and his entourage. The door was opened for him and he entered, royal and in a hurry. His fingers buried themselves immediately into the beauty’s mane and his lips kissed her neck. She flashed her most luminous smile in response.
“Good morning, my love,” she purred. “You’re back already?”
“The work is almost finished.”
“Your jewel will be released soon…”
“Yes, and everything is ready. I’m just torturing my teams to keep the pressure on,” the Korean boss said with a small smile.
“Finally! You promised me some holidays afterward,” she laughed, playing one that is carefree.
He sat near her, the shadow of a smile still on his face. He did not even need to lift a finger for a servant to pour him a cup of tea. As by magic, the basket of gluten-free rolls was replaced by a bowl of fresh fruit.
The beauty played with her bare feet, even stroking the bottom of her darling’s trousers. Just enough for her negligé to shift over the skin of her legs. Just naively enough to attract the attention of the man contemplating the garden.
“Are you staying with me today?”
“I have work to do.”
“But I’m bored! You cancelled all my contracts and I’m stuck here all day. I’m not used to being so… inactive,” Eve retorted, choosing her words carefully.
He smothered a short laugh before suggesting:
“Do you want to go shopping? You need a dress for tonight.”
“A dress? Are we going out?”
She jumped up from her chair and threw herself around him. In her exaggerated comedy, she caught the gaze of Number Six in a corner of the room. The French secret agent rolled his eyes to show his opinion on this grotesque dramatisation, but he grasped there would be an opportunity here.
“A romantic dinner, no? You work so much my love, I never see you anymore.”
“No, a reception. A last-minute invitation from an important host. I need you to shine on my arm,” he said, stroking her cheek magnanimously.
“Of course…”
Eve flashed a smile and bit one of her toasts.
“I’ll take a look around the shops, it will do me good. I actually want two or three small things,” she simpered. “And I’ll go to that famous Pilates class whilst I’m out that all the girls are fighting over. The teacher is American!”
“Very good idea.”
He added no more, taking his cup of Japanese tea to his lips. But the exchange of glances he performed with his men were crystal clear. With a simple frown, he asked if the teacher had been checked with a fine-tooth comb. An affirmative nod from the oldest of his guards confirmed that everything was in order.
Before, Eve thought that this type of check was for her security, an excess show of zeal from a possessive man. A high-ranking man too, so it made sense for him to be careful. Now she knew that the background check was more linked to the mafia than the police. Il-Sung ensured he did not make any faux-pas in relation to the crooks he had to pay off. Unless he was one of them? She watched him drink in silence, and thought back to the French’s request. They wanted to know to what extent he was involved, to then take everything down. She had to get her hands on that computer…
8
She had to be quick…
After breakfast, Eve had the vague feeling that she had to speed things up. She sensed danger, like animals sense a storm. And the reception that night was a bad sign.
She would have to hurry her plans, which she hated. She was gifted for long undercover missions, skilful at blending into the decor and confusing her target for weeks to achieve her goals. It was more comfortable, and carried less risks than a lightning strike. Working in industrial espionage, time was an ally.
Here, she had no choice: she had to gather the information as quickly as possible, both for her clients and for the French services, before making a quick getaway.
Ideally, this would happen without her being unmasked. But something told her that last point would not be so simple to manage this time. Something big, muscled, and with a shaved head.
Number Six, who was going by the name Eric, escorted her around luxury boutiques for part of the day. As he was flanked by a colleague, Eve and he stuck to their respective roles. She was arrogant and princely, he was cold and professional. The other was completely oblivious.
However, the beauty took every chance to tell her partner her plan of action under his nose.
“Hold my bag, please.”
“Right away, Miss.”
“And do not loose it,” she whispered, fixing her gaze to his pale eyes. “It’s important to me. I never leave without it.”
“Don’t worry,” Number Six answered with his even bodyguard tone.
He watched her flutter about the aisles and frowned. Although he had understood well that morning that the evening could serve their purpose, he did not understand the sudden hurry of the young woman. He carried her handbag on his shoulder as dignified as if it were his own, which caused slight laughter from the Asian women around him.
The bag… She was going to pack her cases.
That night? Seeing her grab the most provoking dresses with two hands, it seemed obvious she was going to work twice as hard. The boss would bring down his zen.
She would play all-in. She must not escape before he had copied the laptop’s hard drive. She must not suddenly evaporate. Not when he could put an extraction plan in action with the DGSE. Not when he could help her. Not so quickly, not now. Especially not before he… He had tasted her mouth that morning and bitterly regretted not having given into the temptation to savour more.
Just as she had announced, after the quick shopping spree she tried the class of the exercise teacher that was in fashion. The security men stayed at the entrance of the room, arms crossed. The class was full of women. White, black, mixed, young and less young, but all expats. And they had imposing bodyguards with gazes that were a little too greedy…
Eve enjoyed herself wholeheartedly, diving into all the postures and stretches the teacher demanded. Each of her movements troubled the French spy a little more. He was there to watch over her, keep an eye on her, and to ensure she fulfilled her mission. But his serious look, almost severe, could not restrain the desire he felt arising once again. She need only lean forward, stretch a leg or contort gracefully for him to feel his self-control leave him. His blood boiled, and in a zone that was not convenient at all!
The woman was doing it on purpose.
What new message was she trying to pass on now?
“Il-Sung will be back from his last meeting in an hour,” she exclaimed innocently in the car.
“Yes, Miss. We will be quick,” Number Six answered.
He encouraged the other bodyguard to press harder on the accelerator.
Fully received and understood my dear, the Frenchman thought.
She regained her bedroom and slammed the door, with the majestic haughtiness of someone leaving their dog on the doormat.
In fact, she had fun treating Six like one all afternoon. To breathe hot and cold, official and the confidential without anyone noticing. Spies enjoyed themselves as they could!
But now, the game was over. She just had time to put her bags of new clothes on the bed before she heard a knock. The beauty smiled…
“Yes?”
“Miss, Mr. t
he Director’s assistant,” Number Six announced, opening the door.
“You wished to speak to me about something?” the young man asked as he entered.
He was clearly not at ease, his forehead wrinkled and his hands clutching his briefcase. It was perhaps the first time he had been invited into woman’s bedroom…
The mistress of the premises winked, which was not to make him relax.
“Come in, sit down. Tell me, do you prefer tea or coffee?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t want to sit?”
“No. You had your bodyguard ask for me to have tea?!” the young man choked.
She laughed in response.
“And do you prefer ramen or black radish? Because in fact, my guard…”
Number Six had entered behind Kwang-Ho. The closed door cut them from the world and from the surveillance camera in the corridor.
Eve smiled, stretching her fingers in his direction. A discreet order, an exchanged signal, the man stood up and unbuttoned his jacket.
“As a matter of fact, my guard,” Eve continued, “prefers radishes. Big ones. Thorny and… swollen, I imagine.”
The young assistant that carried the computer remained silent in surprise. He would have liked to protest, but the trajectory of his eyes betrayed him. The young woman’s svelte body in tight-fitting sportswear did not captivate him in the least, whereas the cotton of the white shirt stretched across Six’s large shoulders fascinated him.
The spy flashed a tiny smile and fixed his pale gaze on that of the petrified young Korean. All the intensity of contained desire was expressed in his eyes. For a second, a touch of jealously twisted Eve’s mouth. Spectator was not a part she usually enjoyed, but if Six overplayed his part she would not be responsible!
He stood in front of the assistant, his shirt gaping onto the blond veil on his pecs, and his large hands cupped the pallid face. For a frozen second, the incredulous young man and the amazed young woman held their breath. She saw Six looking for consent in his partner. The latter could free himself with one movement, but did nothing. A new, fleeting smile lit up Six’s face before he came to take possession of the offered mouth.
A conquering kiss, humid and penetrating.
The young man faltered, melting into the French spy’s arms. He submitted, seemed defenceless but did not look to struggle. And his shy hands, finally, dared to place themselves onto the collar of that hypnotic shirt. In fact, he was no longer breathing, holding his breath, wholly consumed by the embrace.
Eve bit her lower lip. She was much more troubled than she should be. It was not the first time she saw two men kissing. She had been witness to much more, by the by… She was used to it, what’s more, to faking love and passion for one’s job. She doubted though that other agents were also capable of it.
The sensuality Number Six was showing was too disconcerting to be faked. Hell, she was burning up just seeing him with another! Ardent spectator, she was jealous of the young man who was sighing with pleasure under his large hands. The caresses became more pressing, hands more adventurous. The security agent’s jacket fell to the floor, followed by that of the Korean, and shirt buttons were pulled off in one swift movement.
Eve placed her own hand on her throat with the still-burning memory of that morning. In the same room, it had been her panting with desire. It was her who dreamt of undressing him and roaming his skin with her nails. That taste of unfinished business multiplied her fascination with the kiss.
Tongues mixed, lips devoured each other without holding back.
After two never-ending minutes, Six nibbled the young man’s mouth to create a pause and reopened his eyes. His pale green gaze instantly caught Eve’s, who was sat a few metres from him. As if he were waking from an erotic dream, he suddenly regained his spirits and the sense of his mission. The fervour had left his eyes, replaced by something more frozen. That cold determination that enabled him to work.
Poor Kwang-Ho, drunk with pleasure, let himself be taken. The mouth left his and placed itself instead at his neck, and he shivered so much he seemed on the edge of fainting. He did not see the carnivorous smile the bodyguard flashed. Nor did he see the young woman, due to his posture. Perhaps he was wondering, confused, what was about to happen, which would be the next caress. Perhaps he was hiding his impatience and his curiosity. Offered as he was, there, at the expert hands of the man on him. He dreamt of that large body, of their erections responding to each other…
So the blow the man gave him took him by surprise. At a point at the back of the neck, given with two fingers with surgical precision. He collapsed painlessly, an unanimated puppet, in the big arms that made him fantasise so much.
Eve hiccuped, just as surprised. Wide-eyed, she watched Six calmly place the body of the young man down into a nearby armchair. It was when he straightened to readjust his shirt that Eve regained her composure. She pouted, falsely deceived.
“That was just starting to get interesting…”
“You’re a little peeping Tom, no?” he mocked with a half smile.
He grabbed the briefcase, looked at the wheels of the code, then took out a small device that was the size of a business card and placed it next to the circuit.
“You put him in a state,” Eve sighed as she took the young assistant’s pulse. “I don’t know what you did but you’re going to have to teach me.”
“He won’t remember anything,” Six answered, tackling the leather briefcase.
“It’s a shame…”
A click. He smiled at her. And opened the briefcase.
Empty.
9
The limo was ready to go. It was parked in front of the entrance of the vast residence, shining and black like Chinese ink. The driver and the security men were gathered in the hall. They were ready to leave. Even Mr. Il-Sung, electronics magnate, third largest fortune in South Korea, feared and respected business man throughout his country, was waiting…
His phone was stuck to his ear, and he was negotiating in English with Australia. But although he mastered of himself, he became speechless the moment Eve finally appeared.
Startled by the sudden silence, all the men turned to her.
Sublime.
One would not expect less from a model. That woman knew how to wear clothes like no one else. She animated them with a feline grace, down to the last crease.
The long draped dress of a profound black left only the beauty’s shoulders uncovered and seemed to hold on to her chocolate skin as if by magic. A breath, a movement would be enough for it to slide down to her belted waist. A large split rose in the front halfway up the thighs, and gaped across Eve’s legs at each of her steps, revealing her red heeled sandals, of pure finesse.
Number Six hid his admiration in a serious frown. His partner was magnificent… It was strange to call her his partner when she was teaming up with him only under pressure. He would free her from the threat if he could… For the moment, he tried to control the memories of her naked skin that came to mind, when she arrive in her haute-couture dress and stood in front of the Korean director. The spy bore a small interior smile when he wondered where the young woman would hide even the smallest weapon in her outfit. She fixed his gaze to his for a microsecond before turning her head, and a rictus finally appeared on his lips. She did not need a gun or a switchblade. Her charm was her weapon.
“I wanted to wear blue to bring you luck, my love,” she explained, pouting adorably. “I read online that it was the custom here. Is that right? But I liked this dress better…”
“I don’t need luck,” the Korean sniggered. “You are very beautiful.”
“Obviously!”
A luminous smile animated her insolent mouth.
And at those words, Number Six opened the limousine door for her.
The reception occurred in a luxurious apartment in an immense tower in Gangham, the rich neighbourhood of Seoul. It was an excessively large duplex, decorated in ‘western’ style. It was
awfully bling-bling, which Eve smiled at. Asia, the land of millenary traditions, lost all principles when billions of dollars made an entrance. That was how sober South Korean business men in suits and ties went out with foreign bimbos by way of showing their worth. The young woman actually noticed some of her lingerie-model companions in the crowd of guests. She paraded on the arm of her own little CEO-boyfriend and the irony of her scathing analysis was not lost on her.
The guest’s security services were stuck at the entrance. If each personality could not go to dinner without their bodyguards, there would never be enough space for everyone in the largest of palaces.
Il-Sung amused himself by introducing his young companion as one shows a recently acquired work of art. She had only a first name, that he mispronounced, and a career he had recently taken away from her, as others take prostitutes from the streets. She smiled, spoke impeccable English and pretended to not know who was who. But when Il-Sung went to greet the host of the evening, Eve knew exactly who he was.
Lee Tae-Chon himself. The godfather of the Kkangpae, the local crime syndicate.
The mafioso was naturally discreet and Eve would never have identified him if the director of the French secret services had not put his photo under her nose. He was a short, aged man who bore a look of wisdom. He was dressed soberly in a three piece black suit. Like all the businessmen present, he did not look like a gangster.
Eve smiled distractedly, respectfully and falsely simple, but her gaze lingered on the knotted hands of the old man. He had been known since the 70s for his use of a sashimi knife in his score settling. He was also at the head of a vast human trafficking network, dealt in narcotics and had ties to the Chinese Triad.
Difficult to be anymore dangerous.
A shiver went down the young woman’s spine. She knew how to manage many situations but she had not signed up to being in the presence of such a monster. The idea of being chopped up and served as sushi if she were discovered did not please her at all. She was in industrial espionage, not the forces of law and order!
