USEFUL ➴ Illumi x Reader

ⅠⅠⅠ. Christmas Ball

I followed Illumi out of the house to the black car parked on the driveway. As soon as my ass landed on the front passenger's seat, the car was speeding up and I was scrambling to shut the door. A sigh left my lips when the door clicked close, and I gripped it as if it were a lifeline as the assassin floored on the gas pedal.

I had barely calmed my racing heart when the airport came into view. We passed by the entrance and my mouth opened to tell him to turn away. My words were cut short when he entered via reserved entrance and parked next to a large airship.

He stepped out of the car, and I hurried to follow. My feet were barely on the floor when his hand closed around my forearm, and I was dragged to the airship.

This was going fast. Too fast in fact. The ship was spacious and oddly empty. The staff greeted us at the entrance and Illumi just kept walking as if he knew exactly where to go and owned the place. Oh damn... Was this a private airship? How much did assassins make? Such luxury for taking the lives of others...

My knees buckled as they pressed against something and I fell onto a comfortable sofa. Should I be panicking? Was it advisable? Why was I ogling at the largeness of this ensuite and the view of the airport growing smaller and smaller underneath?

After my eyes ran every shiny surface and my mind catalogued the scenery for later use, I took a peek at Illumi. He was hot in the most unconventional of ways. He had a cool beauty to him. His icy blue eyes met mine and he didn't seem to mind my continued scrutinizing gaze on his person. I decided I preferred his dark eyes, they matched his hair better and matched his aura. Icy blue... just didn't suit him. I had no clue why I had pulled those out instead of any other colour, but the more I saw it... the less it made sense.

"Your blazer doesn't suit your hairstyle. Can you take it off-" It irked me more than the blue eyes. "Please?" Politeness never killed anyone – at least not that I know of.

"I will not." My eye twitched, why would I expect cooperation from an assassin? What was going on through my mind? He lets me apply makeup and put lenses on him and now I think he's a pliable man? His face was a mask for indifference and his blue eyes almost made him appear bored.

"Ok." There'd be no use arguing with him. Although that wasn't it. I just didn't want to argue with an assassin. That was a very sane point. "Shall we get our story straight?"

His chin inched downwards and I took that for a nod, I straightened by back rotated my neck and heard it crack - sweet merlin I needed more exercise and better posture.

"Alright then. Mister Damien Redthorne, you and I met in your library. I'm sure you'll be able to describe it generally if asked about it. Do not, however, disclose its location." My lips pursed.

His nod was more perceptible this time. Silence stretched, his eyes didn't leave mine and the sudden staring game had me feeling sweaty. "So... Basically just... act amicably? Smile a bit. Answer questions even if not conclusively. The usual frivolous social code... be a gentleman."

He didn't acquiesce these pointers of mine. No matter, my mind had leapt to something much more captivating on its own, "Who will you be killing?"

"Christian Dewitt." He looked out of the window, and I simply hummed. Dewitt was an old man, quite round and greasy. He was a huge fan but every time he looked at me and smiled... I just couldn't help but to shiver uncomfortably. He had no aura that I could see... but I would've guessed his to be much like my now dead neighbour.

I didn't feel... sad about his death. What kind of person was I? Where had my compassion gone? I mean... Dewitt probably deserved it, taking into consideration the mega rich that attended those balls always had their dirty secrets and had reached their wealth through despicable means.