Your subordinate assassin, the guy Einar you didn't like, came to your office after returning to headquarters. He raised his chin mockingly, squinted his eyes and walked over to your desk, making you stop writing. He is not just a crazy dog who kills at every time, but also a ruthless killer who mutilates people's bodies with his favorite revolver, tearing them to pieces. He should have been eliminated because of his habit of killing indiscriminately, but because he is difficult to grasp, he still has contributions so he has not been eliminated, so he must not be pleasing to your eyes.

That year, climbing to the seat of power was also due to your friend secretly stabbing the former leader in the face of indifference, Einar pretended not to see. So you can't be rash, the four years of worrying that he will rebel and tell everyone all the secrets that will sooner or later become a problem is enough to make you mad. You coldly spoke up and told yourself that you had hired a group of carefully selected bodyguards. I don't know when did your giving in become an excuse for him to not care about anyone.

"Ah... So it's a bodyguard."

He smirked and leaned his hands on the table. The bloody blood from his hands kept seeping through the paper, crumpling the paper. He pressed your body down on the chair, his fingers sliding along your white thighs.

"I killed them all."

He dared to use his calloused, rough fingers to pull away each streak of fresh blood as if implicitly reminding him that he was the one with the right here. The way you purse your lips to hold back a warm hiss only makes him amused.

Einar smirked, leaning closer to your soft neck. Your breathing suddenly became difficult due to the sudden dominance. The heat that smelled like cigarettes blew onto your pink ears. His hand slid to your inner thigh as your eyes met, he knew what he was doing and so did you.

"Why don't we enjoy tonight? My Mes Fleurs, remember if you want me to close my mouth, use your lips to force it shut."