Secret Agent Someone: Treachery at its Finest (samplers and snippets) by Wordigirl | World Anvil Manuscripts | World Anvil

Sweet Revenge

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He sat there at his desk doing whatever he came to work to do.... which was to fiddle his fingers, apparently. Tap-tap-tapping them against the glass surface.

 

His laptop was on. I could tell because it’s blue light cast a sinister glow upon his face. He was not focused on the screen, though, rather just above it. His sharp eyes shot a piercing gaze through the glass wall and held on tight to me. If it weren’t for that thin barrier, I’m sure he would have instantly attacked me that very moment.

 

I stood there staring back-- a deer caught in headlights. My lungs froze and my heart certainly stopped. As we locked eyes, my mouth tried not to show fear, but it also tried not to be too friendly. As a result, my face curled into the countenance of an awkward three-year-old on picture day. He had some kind of effect on me. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. He exuded an intimidating presence, yet, he was irresistibly alluring. His accent didn’t help, either.

 

Staring into his eyes, I could see everything that must have been going on in his twisted brain. He was hungry for revenge. In his mind, I had wronged him, and he was ready to get even at all costs. I felt guilty somehow, yes. But, in a way, I felt strong, powerful, and confident. I knew that my actions irked him immensely and that in itself was gratifying.

 

I’m not sure exactly how long I was staring at him for, but before I knew it, he was no longer at his desk. My heart resumed beating- it began pounding. I scanned my surroundings. He was nowhere to be found.

 

Suddenly, my heart stopped again. I could sense that he was behind me. “I know what you did, Constance,” he breathed on my neck, “And, for that, you will surely pay.” I felt him walk away, so I turned and followed him with my eyes. He glided over to my desk with his slippery smile and reached his long fingers into my candy dish, swiping every last bonbon. His grin bore teeth as he clenched the shiny, crinkly wrappers in his fist.

 

“Next time, think twice before you call yourself eating my lunch out of the company fridge,” he murmured as he walked back past me and into his office. The wind from his coattails skimmed against my skirt and the chill of his presence rocked my core.

 

He sat back down in his chair with grand satisfaction of his accomplishment; ankles crossed, feet perched upon his desk. He eyed me intensely as he unwrapped and devoured each confection, still smiling as he chewed.

 

And, when he was done, I turned away and sat back at my own desk. Staring into my empty candy dish, I wondered what kind of lunch he would have waiting in the company fridge for me tomorrow.

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