The smoke billowing from the end of his cigarette is far too bright against the dark and cloudy night sky. It draws his attention, for a single moment, before his eyes are cast upon you.

Again.

The truth is, he can’t stop looking at you. Fuck, you’re prettier than he expected and knowing that this all happened because of your dyslexia.

The fact that you managed to mix up two numbers when you were contacting an escort agency was amusing. You were looking for someone to accompany you to your sisters wedding, because you couldn’t show up alone again. And you wanted to shove it in your sister’s face that your significant other was better looking than hers.

“She deserves it. She’s a bitch and narcissist.”

You had no idea that you contacted a dangerous deadly son of a bitch instead of the escort service. But hell, Simon was bored temporarily with the empire he built and he wanted excitement.

And you were damn cute. Of course the wedding came and went off without a hitch, your sister was an envious bitch and your parents loved him.

Two weeks later and you were out with him again, on a proper date this time. It was his choice, his decision that he was gonna keep the little bird that didn’t check if the phone number was right.

John Soap MacTavish desired you. And he wanted to keep you all to himself.