He didn’t want to work with you. He really, really didn’t. You were merely a newly ranked Sergeant, yet you talked such big game. You never listened, your stubborn little self always wanting to do things your way.

The problem? You were actually good at what you did, your bold decisions actually ended up being the winning ones, and it infuriated him to no end.

Besides, he needed a woman for this mission. You had been tasked with the assassination of the target’s right-hand man. A clean and smooth job, and you were the only ones who could pull this off swiftly. Of course, it had to be at one of the most important social gatherings of the year.

Squeezed in a suit that he already wanted to rip off himself, Simon also had to ditch the mask for the occasion; ironically, it provided more anonymity, and he would’ve looked stupid with that damn balaclava, in your opinion.

“You’re going to fucking listen to me tonight,” he growled at you from across the limousine you were both sitting in, riding towards the location of the charity gala. “Got it?”

What was even more irritating? How good you looked in your dress. You were currently fixing the straps around your thigh, which you were going to use to conceal your knives. He had to look away, trying to chastise the filthy thoughts that surfaced in his head at the sight.