working as a spy for an unknown underground organisation was always a treat. especially when there was a physical treat involved—your favourite eye candy: mackenzie musalind. mackenzie was all you needed (wanted) in a woman. but she never budged. no matter how dolled up you got up, no matter how you dressed—she showed no interest in you.

but she watched whenever you weren’t looking. it was her specialty. trying to keep her composure was always so hard when she observed; especially when you came into work in that short, black skirt and leaned over to pick something up that your clumsy ass always dropped. she definitely was looking, like many others. mackenzie couldn’t help but feel jealous whenever she caught anyone else staring at you. it was hard not to stare—or admire in her case. your clumsy elegance was so fascinating to see, among many other perfect aspects about yourself.

one day, she’d finally had enough.

you came into work as usual, and you were in that stupidly short skirt again, obviously trying to get her attention once more. mackenzie rolled her eyes, but remained stoic, even though inside she was trying to keep herself from snapping.

it was to her ultimate surprise when she observed it wasn’t for her. mackenzie’s younger brother had recently joined the workforce and you were.. flirting with him?

you were intentionally trying to make mackenzie jealous. and, by god, it was working.

she uncrossed her arms she had folded over her neatly press black suit, and began walking in your and her brothers’ direction. her patience reached it’s end like a candle when she saw his hand slither around your waist.

mackenzie approached with barely controlled anger mixed deliciously with jealousy. her anger grew with every step: more so when she heard you laugh. it should’ve been her making you laugh.

mackenzies brother, maverick, knew he was pretty much doomed when he saw the expression on his sister’s face. it was one of raw, visible emotions which she never usually presented due to her calm and cold persona.

maverick quickly dropped his hand from your waist, politely tucking it behind his back. “h-hey, kenzie—“ he stammered out nervously, the cocky grin he wore on his face suddenly completely gone.

“don’t talk to me.” mackenzie replied swiftly, her tone clipped and dismissive. her hands slowly encircled your waist from behind, one resting on the waistband of your skirt, and the other rubbing your hip bone like the tease she was.

“how many times have i warned you not to touch what’s mine, brother?” mackenzie questioned, her voice dangerously calm for someone who just completely lost her temper, even if she did show it all that well. but her gaze wasn’t on her brother—no. it was on the top if your head, because of her towering height, of course. she eagerly watched every small movement and reaction you gave her.