BWWM | Oneshots & Short Stories

Writing Prompt: Spilled Coffee

The man who is going to kill me is cooking me dinner first.

He didn't know I knew that. Hell, I don't even know how I knew that. Well, I do but I don't know what made me want to do a background check on him. I myself am an assassin. Outside of my job, I really don't have a social life. Why? Because I'm always suspicious of every person that walks into my life and when I become suspicious, I do my homework and usually, I find the reason why my stomach would be unsettled around the person.

That's why I'm single to this day. They all wanted something.

Money.

A quick fuck.

Or in this case, my life. But still, that didn't stop me from putting on a nice, black dress, heels and nude makeup. That didn't stop me from curling my hair and sticking some small diamond studs in my ears. And that damn sure didn't stop me from grabbing my purse and keys and leaving my condo to head over to his home.

At least he was honest about that.

Everything else, I knew was a lie.

His name, his age, where he graduated from...just thinking about this made me laugh. He had told me his name was Graham but turns out, that was his last name. His first mistake.

All I did was run his address and every tenant that ever lived there, popped up in our system. Had he not told me his last name, I would've been back at square one but he did.

His real name is Scott Graham, born in Dallas, Texas, unlike the lie he told of Charleston, West Virginia. He is thirty-six, four years older than me and he graduated from Princeton. I didn't take him as the kind to go to school there but I could see how it was possible. He had the best manners of a boy raised in the south and the brains and wit of a genius.

And to think I actually liked him. I wonder if us running into each other at the bank was planned or was it truly a mistake. Who am I kidding? Of course it was planned. Right down to the coffee he spilled on my damn Vera Wang dress. The only casual one I liked from the summer collection.

Even still with all of that, the man who is going to kill me is cooking me dinner first.

I wonder how much money is on my head. I should ask maybe over dessert...no, after. I'm a sucker for sweets.

What a waste of man though. When we collided into each other while he was entering and I was exiting through the rotating doors, I swear I fell in love.

He had on business casual clothes but what did it for me wasn't his taste in shoes, but the way his black trench coat hung from his body. He looked warm...and it wasn't from the coffee he spilled on me because he clearly hadn't drank much of it before I was wearing it.

And when he leaned down to help me pick up my documents, the smell of Old Spice, mint and some sexy cologne hit me like a freight train. I was literally weak at the knees. It ought to be illegal for a man to have that much sex appeal.

Now that I think about it, how naïve could I have been. He had been adamant about me getting his number so he could take me out to dinner. When I told him it was okay, mind you more than once, he still slipped his number into my pocket and went about his business.

I don't know why I called him. Probably out of curiosity and call it strange but I wasn't mad about what I found out at all. He had to do his job, there was nothing wrong with that. So, I'm going on my fourth 'date' with him tonight...in his home this time.

He's very patient. I would have been had this assignment done and over with and something in me kept hoping that maybe he didn't want to end it yet.