Soft violin music hummed through the air. The gentle clink of glasses and hushed murmurs of waiters was lost among the beautiful melody. Couples swayed on the dance floor whilst others looked on. Only one person sat alone. Her gorgeous red hair fell in soft waves, the slight glimmer of her evening dress shifting under the chandeliers. In her hand she delicately held a crystal glass, something bubbly fizzing over the top. It wasn't her preferred choice but it was complimentary.
Some pitying glances were thrown her way, mostly curios though. She let them believe that she'd been stood up, twisting her dull wedding band around her finger whilst a tear escaped her lashes and rolled slowly down her cheek. She closed her eyes before wiping away the droplet. Better to be stood up than to be a widow. True she was the one who killed him but then again, doesn't every marriage have its problems? Hers just happened to have been built up from lies and deceit. The thought still made her angry. She had lied to him but she had loved him. He had lied to her but was only using her as a cover. Her agency told her to kill him. So she did.
Her drink vanished and a waiter appeared behind her. He tilted her glass and removed the bottle from the ice besides her, watching as the liquid swirled into the glass. "It's a beautiful evening." Her eyes focused. She snapped her gaze to his face, eyeing him sharply. Her dead husband stood before her. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to a passing staff member before sliding into the seat opposite. "May I sit?"
"No." He ignored her anyway. Her previous grief was gone, replaced only by cold fury. She'd watched him die.
"Tricky things cameras. Easily manipulated." He winked and her heel collided with his shin. He shook his head and winced slightly. Another waiter glided towards them.
"More champagne?" Her husband smiled disarmingly at him.
"Champagne is for celebrating, I'll have a martini." His gaze settled on her with a small smirk, like they were sharing an inside joke. The waiter glanced at her.
"The same if you please." He nodded once and disappeared. Her husband leant backwards in his chair, carelessly relaxing his form.
"Natalia."
"James." She cocked her head slightly to the side, waiting for him to continue. The waiter returned and set their drinks before them. James moved forwards and propped his elbows on the white cloth, lacing his fingers together as he tried to figure her out.
"We have a problem. You want to kill me and as you start to become more successful I'm getting less concerned over your well being. Where do you think that brings us?"
"Marriage counselling?" She offered dryly, taking a sip of her martini. He merely offered an inclination of his head. He mulled something over in his mind, for an assassin he really was an open book, but maybe ten years of marriage made it easier to read a person. He rose from his seat and offered his hand.
"Dance with me?" She hesitated.
"You don't dance." She gave him a once over whilst he smirked and leant in,
"All part of my cover dear." It was like someone twisted a knife in her gut. All playfulness died and she cocked an eyebrow, glowering with distaste.
"Was being a sloth part of it too?" He ignored her jab and took her hand, leading her onto the dance floor. However, as she followed he squeezed the points on either side of her fingers and made her swear under her breath. He roughly span her around until she rested neatly against him, fitting as perfectly in his arms as she had 10 years ago. He was taking dominance.
The music picked up and forced them into a tango. Quite fitting for their current situation.
"You think this story will have a happy ending?" His voice was low and to anyone else would appear uncaring. She, however, had known him for years and thought she detected a slight trace of hope. She pushed the thought aside frustratedly, it was probably all an act.
