The Closer (18+) ✓

| p | the assignment

  ❝Skip all the know how, and fuck all their high brow shit.
Too pretty to die, we're doing fine
Trash talking love.❞  

Prologue: 
The Assignment

"You know, you're going to drink yourself dry if you keep at it."

The incandescent lighting of the vacant conference room seemed to flicker eerily upon his arrival. My eyes swerved to the half glass of wine by my side and I licked my lips, feeling the lingering taste of the red-richness. Things always seemed to go this way now; my drinking into the night with a glass of red as company in place of a man I'd much rather defenestrate than entertain. One could even say I was starting to bore from this routine.

The message that my subconscious was sending my brain was to get up and get out. Instead, I did what I always did. Like every other time I had to face him, I took a deep breath and pushed my seat back into a slow spin, using the seconds I'd gained to pull my lips into a ready, polite smile.

"Devin. Charming as ever, I see."

His thin blonde hair was gelled back neatly, prompting me to wonder if he had a handy little mirror in his pocket to fix himself up at every possible moment. I had grown accustomed to his unannounced visits in the office; the sight of his unnaturally shiny forehead, hook nose and irritating dimpled smirk. Yet as much as I wished to erase the sight of him from my peripheral vision, I had to admit Devin had this inexplicable skill of looking fresh as ever which was the least I could say for myself.

"Mind if I join you?"

It wasn't a question. It never was but this time, I made it a point to say something rather than spend the next couple hours hearing him rattle on about his extravagant beach house where I was always invited to 'drop in'.

"I do, actually." Crossing one leg over the other, I tilted my head back toward the mess behind me. "I've got work to do."

A flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes but he covered it up with a smile. "I see."

"Besides, shouldn't you be calling it a night? Deborah mentioned a little something about your early meeting tomorrow with TransCom. You should get your beauty sleep."

With those words, I spun back around and continued to sift through the sheets in front of me, not paying heed to the shuffle of nervous feet behind me and his awkward goodbye. It wasn't until I confirmed his retreating footsteps that I let out my breath, something that did not go missed by the one other person in the conference room.

"That was brutal."

I sighed, dropping the reports in my hand and shot Rita sour look. "Was I being a bitch?"

"Not more so than usual," she said, shooting me a small smile. "Why don't you just go out with the poor guy and sate his wild, hormone-ridden fantasies of you?"

"Because that would go against every fiber of my being. Besides," I shot a cursory glance over my shoulder at Devin's retreating figure down the hall, "he's not my type."

"You say that about every guy that wants you," Rita muttered. She stood up and shut the screen of her laptop, peering at me with a mix of irritation and concern on her face. I ignored her and reached for the half-full glass of wine by my side. The familiar trickle and slight burn of the drink provided a slight distraction from our current conversation but it wasn't long before Rita continued her patronizing, this time making her way over to me.

"Drinking that isn't going to help the hunger between your legs. Besides, Devin's right. You might be turning into an alcoholic."

My eyebrows rose. "It's wine, Rita."