WICKED | WILLIAM FRANKLYN-MILLER

⟶ 4 | SHE'S A JOB

[WILLIAM]

⑅

SATURDAY. 9PM. SHE FELL ASLEEP.

It's dark in the room; I've closed the blinds from the incessant moonlight, but I can see my surroundings clearly. One chair, one desk, one wardrobe, one bed, currently being ravaged by a sleeping pain in the—

No.

I know my temper, and if I insult her in my mind, I'll end up saying it to her face. She's good at bringing that side out of me. Aggravatingly good. She's stubborn, horrible, and I'm beginning to hate every single moment spent with her. She does it on purpose—she's testing me, because she doesn't trust me. It's making my job harder.

Karma has a sick way of giving punishment. It's why I'm stuck with her. When I was sent to kill Robert and Martha Ash a few months ago, I failed, because I'd grown arrogant of my skills.

My job was to kill the two criminals before they could cause any more harm. I thought I could bring them in still alive, basking in the glory that would come of it, but I was wrong. My ignorance allowed for their escape on the journey back, and three of my team were lost because of it.

Disgraced. That's what I am.

That's why they stripped me of my title, and sent me to be a 'babysitter' for a defenseless woman. Pathetic. I should be after the Ashes right now, getting redemption for what I've done. Unfortunately, all I can do is follow around a stubborn nitwit and watch her snog her spoiled boyfriend on pathetic dates.

The Duke of Allerton—Percy Kent, Male, 25—lost a bet in an underground gambling ring. He wasn't the saint people cracked him out to be; his spending records would confirm that. Turns out he never paid the bet. Now the Ashes want their money, and they'll kill someone if they don't get it (that person being [y/n] Lovey, the ginormous thorn in my side).

I know she thinks the worst of me. I honestly don't give a damn. My job isn't to hold her hand and spoon-feed her, it's to stop her from getting killed, but she can't wrap her head around that. She's constantly throwing herself into danger; take when she nearly got hit by a car when she didn't look before crossing the street.

Even though she lacks common sense, I see why Percy chose her. Egotistical men don't care about the people they wish to marry, as long as they look good in the papers. [y/n] Lovey is beautiful. Stubborn and terrible, but beautiful. I noticed it on the train-ride here, when she had her nose tucked into the same book I was reading. Her ID photo was less than flattering, but to see her in person for the first time was different.

I've learned not to let myself get distracted by women, however, and she's no exception. They get in the way of my job. Unfortunately, she is my job, and I'm required to watch her at all times of the day. Roughly 24 hours. 7 days a week.

"Shut up," she mumbled half-asleep, tossing in her bedsheets, "youse thinks louds."

Oh, yes. Another one of the discoveries I've made about the woman. Not only is she a pain to be around in the morning, she's also a pain at night. She talks in her sleep. She knocks pillows off the bed, and sprawls out so far on the mattress, there wouldn't be room for someone to lay beside her.

I wonder how Percy Kent puts up with it. I assume they've slept together at least once, given his track record before they met (I've read the articles about him. Against my will).

Letting out a string of jumbled sounds, my eyes flickered towards the woman who was rolling over once more. This time, she moved too far, and tumbled off the bed and onto the ground with a loud thud.

"Bleh..." she mumbled in her sleep, "I deads."

Hell, she didn't even wake. A fall from her bed wasn't enough to stir her from her rock-hard sleep. Another justification for why I'm here: if she won't wake up from a fall, who's to say she'll notice an intruder breaking in?

I leaned into my seat, casting another glance around the room. I could only allow myself an hour of sleep in various intervals. If someone was to break in, I'd need to be awake. Unfortunately, it meant sitting pervertedly in the darkness, watching a woman I despise dream.

Rising from my chair, I paced over towards where she lay on the floor, coming to a stop by the edge of the bed. I stared down at her. She had her mouth gaped open, arms sprawled wildly around her head, and a sliver of saliva drooling from her mouth. I sighed.

I wasn't going to pick her up and put her back on the mattress, so I settled for tugging the covers off of the bed and laying them over her. I'm sure she'd slept on the floor before, given her terrible sleeping habits. I also refused to lay a finger on her.

There's a difference between being touched and touching someone. I don't do either. I can't. Especially not with her involved.

I'm trained to kill. I don't care about who dies, as long as I complete my job and come out alive. When someone touches me, it's in my nature to react as I would in a fight. I can't help it. It's why I've made it clear that if she tries to put her hands on me, I can't guarantee she'll be unharmed.

And if I touch her?

I don't mess around with beautiful women. My job has allowed me no sense of self-control, even in cases outside of my missions. If I put a hand on her skin, I know it'll be hard for me to pull back. This is why I set boundaries. Not just for my safety, but for hers.

I'm not sure her gambling boyfriend would like it if I touched her. My employers wouldn't either. In truth, I couldn't care less what her boyfriend thought, but I respected her (in a convoluted way, which stood for the bare minimum of how you should treat a woman, while also bypassing my subtle hatred for her).

It's crossed my mind a few times. Once on the train, once when I crowded her against the wall in order to establish control. It wasn't a deviant desire entirely, but I enjoyed seeing how hot-headed she became in the times we argued. I'd switched my thoughts due to plain decency, but I have to be careful.

If I don't control myself around her, she'll have a choke-hold on me by the time this mission is over. Hatred or not. I know emotions haven't stopped me in the past, and I doubt they'll change now.

When she's finally out of my sight, I'll let myself indulge in other pleasantries. In other people. She's off limits.

I just have to wait till this whole thing is over.