just_muse_me | 8.1.2. Mason Cooley quote
8.1.2 “Indifference is an excellent substitute for patience.” - Mason Cooley
Co-written with straight2point & strips4u
Harri kept a hold of Flynn, not letting her date stray too far. She wasn't afraid of him wandering off and getting some other woman weak in the knees. What she was afraid of was being left in a room with people she had no real feeling for. She might work with them, employ them, or be courting their investment but she had no real attachment to any of them. Harri let out a sigh as her eyes drifted around the room. She tilted her head when her gaze fixed on a man with light brown hair, a hint of red through it. He was very good looking, but there was something about him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it though, even if he did look about as excited to be here as she felt.
She looked at Flynn and gave him a wry smile. "Tell me something, love. Is a party still a success if everyone else is having fun, and the hostess isn't?"
Flynn casually sipped his Martini and looked around the room. "I'm going with no," he decided. He was dressed immaculately in a silver suit with a black silk shirt underneath. His hair was brushed back with product and he had forgone a tie, but still managed to pull off the formal look despite. On jobs like these, he couldn't be anything but pristine in his appearance. He knew how to work and knew how to pull the whole thing off with style. Whilst the party had very little by way of Christmas cheer, it certainly was full of interesting people, albeit, as boring as all fucking shit. He followed her gaze to the brunette in the distance and tilted his head. "Do you know him?"
"No, I don't think so," Harri replied as she gave a shake of her head, blonde locks shimmering slightly in the light. Her own dress was a halter neck, the black material complementing Flynn's shirt. Her contribution to Christmas cheer were the bells wrapped around her wrist, and the tasteful snowflake earrings she wore. She resisted the urge to make a face. "I was hoping you'd disagree. Fuck, I'll have to fire my party planner. Whatever happened to having fun?"
From the other side of the room, Marc was swallowed into a circle - or rather a clique - of rich, snobby business types. He plastered a fake smile on his face as a string of questions were thrown in his direction. He was new to the circle, but a good portion of the businessmen in the room had been unknowingly fed a sense that they should know who he was and if they didn't, they were clearly out of the loop. He waved off an offer of a glass of Cristal champagne and instead pulled a silver hip flask from his pocket and took a cool sip of it. It was water, but a familiar sight to people who had met him. The last thing he needed was to go into a diabetic high on this job. Coma was not an attractive look. The hip flask was in Marcus Fraser's brief. The Powers That Be had really thought of everything. But there was something about the blonde. Harriet Ryan. The owner of Razor. He had heard of her and read about her, but this was the first time he saw her in the flesh and he was more than intrigued. His newly-darkened eyes, aided by contacts, sought her out when the crowd parted again and he offered a faint smirk over the top of the flask.
"Did your party planner forget it was Christmas?" Flynn sniggered and rested his hand casually on the small of her back. He whistled lowly, impressed, so only Harri could hear. "Are you sure you don't know him, darling? I'd do him. Look at that arse..." he said with an appreciative flick of his eyebrows.
"Apparently. Surely there's something I can do to save this social embarrassment?" Harri's lips parted as she licked at them and watched the mysterious brunette take another shot from the hip flask. She couldn't bring herself to look away from him, even with Flynn beside her. "He must be one of the business men that were invited. That's what the majority of his circle are made up of. He has to be worth millions at least." Not that that really meant much to her. She had more than enough money, so it wasn't as if she was looking to add to her fortune.
Flynn titled his head. "He wants you." He plucked the olive out of his drink and slowly sucked the alcohol off it. "Or maybe he just knows you're the puppetmaster of this abysmal event. He might want to chew you out for ruining his Sunday night," he added teasingly. He tried to catch the guy's eye, but the millionaire or billionaire, whatever, was busy lighting up a cigarette with a silver lighter. Flynn wondered if it was real silver. Must be. Also, the cupped hands around the smoke showed no wedding ring. "I want to know if he's gay."
Marc's eyes were back on Harri as he slowly blew a stream of cigarette smoke away from the circle of people surrounding him. He politely excused himself from the people who were about as exciting as a bottle of laxatives and moved towards the bar. He had to keep telling himself this was work. And it was. He could pick out a good seven business tycoons just in his line of sight who probably had cocaine stashed in their breast pocket. Little leaguers who thought they were big shots. He scratched his forehead lightly with the edge of his thumb, the cigarette resting between his fingers. He didn't want to be back in his old apartment sharing a pizza with Izzy and Ali at all. Nope. Who could possibly want that? Those were the old days. This was his life now. Couldn't they at least have thrown up a measly thread of tinsel to make it festive? He was finding the Christmas period difficult enough in his new persona.
Harri finally looked at Flynn when the man moved off to the bar, her eyebrow arched. "Do you often scope out future dates while working? What happened to you focusing your attention on me?" Not that she could talk, her gaze was back on the brunette as soon as possible. "I hope he's not gay. Only one way to find out though, isn't there?" The song changed to something that would have been more at home at a rave and Harri clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Would you please excuse me a moment?"
She let go of Flynn's arm to make a beeline for the so-called DJ, her face the picture of rage. The loud bass covered any death threats and four-letter words that might have been heard, but anyone looking would have seen that she had the bloke just about cowering in his tight jeans. She spun on her heel and flicked her hair back over her shoulder as she returned to Flynn. The song instantly changed to an old Christmas tune, something that people could dance to. "Now if only I could scare some fucking decorations off someone."
Flynn was unphased, but he knew what Harri was like. He just watched in amusement and continued to enjoy his drink. "Mr Millionaire might know where to get some at short notice. I think he's probably packing quite the decoration himself," he mused and glanced at Harri. "I'm not scoping for dates for me, sweetness. You can't tell me you wouldn't want a taste of that." He tapped a nearby suit on the back and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to know who the brunette at the bar with the cigarette is? I can't for the life of me, remember his name and I'm trying to decide if I've shared his bed before."
The man snorted with laughter. "I highly doubt it. That's Marcus Fraser. Freshly returned to the New York scene from London. He more prefers the," he glanced at Harri, "fairer sex," he sniffed. "And prefers them extensively. He owns Promantech," he said with a knowing nod and continued on his way.
Flynn threw his gaze back to Harri with his nose in the air. "He owns Promantech," he said haughtily. "Prefers the fairer sex." He smirked widely and shook his head. "Can I call the guy back and tell him I'm a hooker. Pleeeeease?" he laughed.
Harri's brow crinkled slightly as she looked back at Marcus Fraser. It only made him more of a mystery instead of answering either her questions, or Flynn's. However she shrugged it all off and managed a smile. "Perhaps he could help me with the decorations." She gave Flynn a kiss on the cheek and smirked. "You can tell him you're a hooker if I manage to talk Mr Fraser into a threesome. Surely you won't mind for a little extra cash, or just a chance to get some fun out of the evening? So to answer your original question, I definitely want a taste of that. And have every intention of trying to get one."
"Oh really?" Flynn murmured and then he waved his hand. "I couldn't possibly crash on your private party. I'm not into threesomes," he added mischievously. "Well, not much." He studied this Marcus Hunter for a few more moments until the guy turned back around and pierced Harri with another gaze. "There's something about him. He looks like he belongs here but at the same time looks like he belongs anywhere but here. If he's so well-known, how come you haven't crossed his path?"
Marc tapped his cigarette on the side of one of the many crystal ashtrays dotted around the place. He stifled a sigh and glanced at the clock. Twenty five more minutes and he was out of here. The only thing going for the place were the views. They were on the twenty fifth floor and if Marc didn't despise heights, he was sure he would really appreciate the venue. He was horny, too. The blonde in that dress was riling him up inside and he would definitely like a piece of that. He had no interest in doing another one of the waitresses. The last had left lipstick on his shirt cuff and that just wouldn't do. He met the blonde's gaze again through another swirl of exhaled cigarette smoke and trailed his eyes appreciatively down her body.
Harri shifted to cock her hip, hand resting on it as she let Marcus look her over. A small shiver ran up her spine and she took a sip from the champagne glass she held. When he was done, she took her turn to check him out. Her gaze lingered below the belt as she imagined just what he was packing there. "Hm?" She hadn't really been listening to Flynn and it took her a moment to nod in agreement. "He looks how I feel. I hate this party, and I'm the one who threw it." She lifted her eyes back up to meet Mr Fraser's and she smirked as she hitched up her dress a little. "You heard the useless snob. He's just returned from London. The last time I was in London was a year and a half ago."
"I feel like a voyeur in your little dose of eye sex happening here," Flynn sniggered and took a glass of champagne from a passing waitress. "So, what's the next move Ms Ryan? Do I make myself scarce and feign a headache so he's home free, or do you want me to snog your panties off so you can play hard to get?"
"I'm sorry, love. It wasn't like I planned it." And still she couldn't stop looking at Marcus. "Both are incredibly good options, but I think the headache one would be better. Playing hard to get can backfire so easily." She faced Flynn and hugged him briefly before she kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry the party was a flop. You should go home to your two lovers and have a party of your own. Feel free to take some Cristal."
Flynn kissed her back, doing his best to look miserable but all the while trying not to laugh. "You're the most exciting person here. It was destined to be stoic. It's what's on offer for dessert you should be looking forward to." He shot a glance over in the direction of the mysterious Brit. "I'll speak to you soon, yeah? Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Harri gave a nod, and felt his forehead for effect. "That leaves me with plenty of room to move, Flynn. I'll talk to you soon, if only so I can inform you of the quality of the dessert." She gave him a small wave and watched Flynn start to make his way out, all the while trying to bite back a smile. There was definitely a reason Flynn was worth his price. Especially since he even knew just when to leave. After a moment to look a little concerned about her friend, she had her gaze locked on Marcus Fraser and made her way over to the bar. Her hips dipped and swayed with every step, her heels clicking on the polished tile floors.
Marc hadn't taken his eyes off Harri during the whole scene. He knew a staged exit when he saw one because he was trained to pull them whenever he needed to. Still, why had the date pulled the plug? Not that they seemed close or anything. There had been nothing beyond a few kisses on the cheek and the guy's hand on her back. He propped his foot up on the railing along the bottom of the bar and leaned an elbow on the polished surface. "Can I get you a drink, sir?" the barman offered, seeming to appear out of nowhere.
"No, thank you," Marc responded in his very honed, clipped English accent. He hadn't spoken in his natural Aussie lilt in public for a long time. He did around his work colleagues, thankfully. The whole top four floors of the 'Promantech' high rise in Manhattan were SS offices; yet another highly coveted secret he was now privy to.
"Nuts?" the barman asked instead and it took all of Marc's effort not to snigger at this. Oh hell, he was still James Campbell at heart somewhere under the flashy exterior. If Izzy or Ali had been there with him, they'd be snorting champagne out there noses at that by now. He missed having fun. Being arrogant and confident, yet cheeky and devious, all the time was tiring.
Marc waved his hand. "No, I'm all good, pal," he assured him with a faint smirk and when he turned around again, his eyes landed on Harri who was now standing at the opposite end of the bar to him. Perhaps a bit of playing hard to get on his part was in order?
Harri had heard the barman, but she'd managed to fight her laughter. More firings to be made. She would make sure the next time there was bar staff to be hired she'd approve them personally. Although this guy was more entertainment than anything else had been tonight. She watched Marcus curiously, still trying to work him out. His appearance, while certainly gorgeous and perfect, still held some sort of rakish charm. Maybe it was in the eyes. The eyes that had her wet and ready to claw his clothes off about ten minutes ago. She rest her arms on the bar, and arched her back to draw his attention to her arse and legs.
Marc made a show of heavily clearing his throat and looking boredly up at the rows of liquors lined up behind the bar. He didn't look at her at first, though his eyes followed a female waitress' arse as she wove her way behind the bar to collect more glasses of champagne on her tray. He put the cigarette to his lips and then turned to openly look at Harri this time. He knew this game. Who would fold first and say something? As the hostess, it really should be her, though he never did play by the rules. He pushed off the bar and this time looked around for the exit. "Nice party," he offered, smirking.
Harri straightened up to look at him. It was true that she was waiting to see who would fold first, happy to let etiquette slide in the name of flirtation. Instead of returning with a smile, or a smirk of her own she just sneered a little. If he was trying to be funny, he had failed. "For who?"
Marc sniggered. "Not me," he confirmed with a shrug. "But then, you're not paying me to be entertained, are you?" It was a long shot, but he figured the guy with her had been an escort. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Finding a decent guy to date in this cutthroat world was damn fucking near impossible. They were all arrogant pricks and Marc really wouldn't blame her if she was, say, a lesbian.
An eyebrow crept up as she considered his comment. What should she do, acknowledge and let him assume that she was maybe pathetic? A lesbian trying to use Flynn as a shield? Or just willing to pay for what she wanted because she knew Flynn would be reliable? "He wasn't exactly entertained either until he saw you."
Marc quirked an eyebrow and then laughed. "I don't pay for it," he said simply. "So, does he get half of his tab, or did you ask him to leave?" He stubbed his cigarette out and took another small step closer to her, his own very expensive Italian leather shoes tapping softly on the floor below. "Let me guess, Santa will arrive at any moment shower us all with sex toys. Or is that just a little too much heart attack material for this lively bunch?"
"As much as I would love for Santa to arrive and shower us with sex toys, I think that little group who were making you yawn would definitely have a heart attack. Even though I probably wouldn't shed a tear for them, I would mourn the loss of advertisers and investors." Harri didn't look ruffled as he told her he didn't pay for it. She just offered a small shrug. "I refuse to trawl through bars trying to find the one diamond in amongst the coal. I'd rather spend my time usefully. He offered to leave, and as to how much of his tab he'll get that's between he and I. Now the real question is... are you planning on leaving, Mr Fraser?"
Marc took his hip flask from his breast pocket again and took a small sip. "I didn't ask you how much you paid for him," he pointed out, the smirk still set in place. "If bars are your only option, then you aren't looking hard enough. Rough diamonds can show up right under your nose and you could be missing them." He looked at his Rolex and then met her eyes again while he push his hair back off his face. "It really is way past my... bedtime."
"Bars aren't my only option, but telling you that sounds better than admitting I'm a workaholic who rarely gets out and her latest fling might only have occurred because the man's in the country for a very short time." Harri wet her lips as she considered him. She wondered if there was any answer she could give him that would possibly satisfy him. "That's a shame about your bedtime. I thought the night was finally getting interesting. Would you like me to escort you out?"
Marc laughed. "'Escort me out'? Is not drinking your booze against your security policy? Or are you trying to pick me up, Ms Ryan?" He feigned an innocent look, putting a hand on his chest. "I'm far too naive to tell the difference..." Though the way his tongue was trailing slowly across his lower lip more than went against his not so innocent declaration.
"Has anyone told you that you're incredibly infuriating? I was merely being polite, though perhaps it was a miscalculated slip of the tongue." She smirked lightly as her gaze fixed on his mouth. She didn't believe for one second he was naive. Especially given the eye fucking earlier." She took a step into him, effectively closing the gap between them, the toes of her shoes up against his. "If you would like me to speak more plainly so that you can better understand--yes, I am trying to pick you up. I want you to fuck me hard, and I want you to fuck me now." Harri's hand was back on her hip and she glared at him. "And if by some chance you're about to accuse me of being uncouth, then perhaps there really is no pleasing you."
Marc faltered only slightly. How many times at Izzy told him how infuriating he was? There was no outward showing that he was thrown, though. He held her gaze and ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "How much are you going to charge me?" he asked lowly.
Harri's blue eyes widened for a second before her hand suddenly slapped him across the cheek and she glared angrily at him, her nostrils flaring. "I'm no hooker, even if I hire one occasionally. I guess I shouldn't have wasted your time." She stalked past him, the hostess heading straight for the exit. Not only had her party been a complete flop, she had now been seen by the entire room to have assaulted one of the guests. Her night was going to be memorable for all the wrong reasons.
All muses referenced with permission
Muse | Special Agent Marcus Fraser (with Harri Ryan and Flynn Hunter)
Word Count | 3,672
Co-written with straight2point & strips4u
Harri kept a hold of Flynn, not letting her date stray too far. She wasn't afraid of him wandering off and getting some other woman weak in the knees. What she was afraid of was being left in a room with people she had no real feeling for. She might work with them, employ them, or be courting their investment but she had no real attachment to any of them. Harri let out a sigh as her eyes drifted around the room. She tilted her head when her gaze fixed on a man with light brown hair, a hint of red through it. He was very good looking, but there was something about him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it though, even if he did look about as excited to be here as she felt.
She looked at Flynn and gave him a wry smile. "Tell me something, love. Is a party still a success if everyone else is having fun, and the hostess isn't?"
Flynn casually sipped his Martini and looked around the room. "I'm going with no," he decided. He was dressed immaculately in a silver suit with a black silk shirt underneath. His hair was brushed back with product and he had forgone a tie, but still managed to pull off the formal look despite. On jobs like these, he couldn't be anything but pristine in his appearance. He knew how to work and knew how to pull the whole thing off with style. Whilst the party had very little by way of Christmas cheer, it certainly was full of interesting people, albeit, as boring as all fucking shit. He followed her gaze to the brunette in the distance and tilted his head. "Do you know him?"
"No, I don't think so," Harri replied as she gave a shake of her head, blonde locks shimmering slightly in the light. Her own dress was a halter neck, the black material complementing Flynn's shirt. Her contribution to Christmas cheer were the bells wrapped around her wrist, and the tasteful snowflake earrings she wore. She resisted the urge to make a face. "I was hoping you'd disagree. Fuck, I'll have to fire my party planner. Whatever happened to having fun?"
From the other side of the room, Marc was swallowed into a circle - or rather a clique - of rich, snobby business types. He plastered a fake smile on his face as a string of questions were thrown in his direction. He was new to the circle, but a good portion of the businessmen in the room had been unknowingly fed a sense that they should know who he was and if they didn't, they were clearly out of the loop. He waved off an offer of a glass of Cristal champagne and instead pulled a silver hip flask from his pocket and took a cool sip of it. It was water, but a familiar sight to people who had met him. The last thing he needed was to go into a diabetic high on this job. Coma was not an attractive look. The hip flask was in Marcus Fraser's brief. The Powers That Be had really thought of everything. But there was something about the blonde. Harriet Ryan. The owner of Razor. He had heard of her and read about her, but this was the first time he saw her in the flesh and he was more than intrigued. His newly-darkened eyes, aided by contacts, sought her out when the crowd parted again and he offered a faint smirk over the top of the flask.
"Did your party planner forget it was Christmas?" Flynn sniggered and rested his hand casually on the small of her back. He whistled lowly, impressed, so only Harri could hear. "Are you sure you don't know him, darling? I'd do him. Look at that arse..." he said with an appreciative flick of his eyebrows.
"Apparently. Surely there's something I can do to save this social embarrassment?" Harri's lips parted as she licked at them and watched the mysterious brunette take another shot from the hip flask. She couldn't bring herself to look away from him, even with Flynn beside her. "He must be one of the business men that were invited. That's what the majority of his circle are made up of. He has to be worth millions at least." Not that that really meant much to her. She had more than enough money, so it wasn't as if she was looking to add to her fortune.
Flynn titled his head. "He wants you." He plucked the olive out of his drink and slowly sucked the alcohol off it. "Or maybe he just knows you're the puppetmaster of this abysmal event. He might want to chew you out for ruining his Sunday night," he added teasingly. He tried to catch the guy's eye, but the millionaire or billionaire, whatever, was busy lighting up a cigarette with a silver lighter. Flynn wondered if it was real silver. Must be. Also, the cupped hands around the smoke showed no wedding ring. "I want to know if he's gay."
Marc's eyes were back on Harri as he slowly blew a stream of cigarette smoke away from the circle of people surrounding him. He politely excused himself from the people who were about as exciting as a bottle of laxatives and moved towards the bar. He had to keep telling himself this was work. And it was. He could pick out a good seven business tycoons just in his line of sight who probably had cocaine stashed in their breast pocket. Little leaguers who thought they were big shots. He scratched his forehead lightly with the edge of his thumb, the cigarette resting between his fingers. He didn't want to be back in his old apartment sharing a pizza with Izzy and Ali at all. Nope. Who could possibly want that? Those were the old days. This was his life now. Couldn't they at least have thrown up a measly thread of tinsel to make it festive? He was finding the Christmas period difficult enough in his new persona.
Harri finally looked at Flynn when the man moved off to the bar, her eyebrow arched. "Do you often scope out future dates while working? What happened to you focusing your attention on me?" Not that she could talk, her gaze was back on the brunette as soon as possible. "I hope he's not gay. Only one way to find out though, isn't there?" The song changed to something that would have been more at home at a rave and Harri clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Would you please excuse me a moment?"
She let go of Flynn's arm to make a beeline for the so-called DJ, her face the picture of rage. The loud bass covered any death threats and four-letter words that might have been heard, but anyone looking would have seen that she had the bloke just about cowering in his tight jeans. She spun on her heel and flicked her hair back over her shoulder as she returned to Flynn. The song instantly changed to an old Christmas tune, something that people could dance to. "Now if only I could scare some fucking decorations off someone."
Flynn was unphased, but he knew what Harri was like. He just watched in amusement and continued to enjoy his drink. "Mr Millionaire might know where to get some at short notice. I think he's probably packing quite the decoration himself," he mused and glanced at Harri. "I'm not scoping for dates for me, sweetness. You can't tell me you wouldn't want a taste of that." He tapped a nearby suit on the back and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to know who the brunette at the bar with the cigarette is? I can't for the life of me, remember his name and I'm trying to decide if I've shared his bed before."
The man snorted with laughter. "I highly doubt it. That's Marcus Fraser. Freshly returned to the New York scene from London. He more prefers the," he glanced at Harri, "fairer sex," he sniffed. "And prefers them extensively. He owns Promantech," he said with a knowing nod and continued on his way.
Flynn threw his gaze back to Harri with his nose in the air. "He owns Promantech," he said haughtily. "Prefers the fairer sex." He smirked widely and shook his head. "Can I call the guy back and tell him I'm a hooker. Pleeeeease?" he laughed.
Harri's brow crinkled slightly as she looked back at Marcus Fraser. It only made him more of a mystery instead of answering either her questions, or Flynn's. However she shrugged it all off and managed a smile. "Perhaps he could help me with the decorations." She gave Flynn a kiss on the cheek and smirked. "You can tell him you're a hooker if I manage to talk Mr Fraser into a threesome. Surely you won't mind for a little extra cash, or just a chance to get some fun out of the evening? So to answer your original question, I definitely want a taste of that. And have every intention of trying to get one."
"Oh really?" Flynn murmured and then he waved his hand. "I couldn't possibly crash on your private party. I'm not into threesomes," he added mischievously. "Well, not much." He studied this Marcus Hunter for a few more moments until the guy turned back around and pierced Harri with another gaze. "There's something about him. He looks like he belongs here but at the same time looks like he belongs anywhere but here. If he's so well-known, how come you haven't crossed his path?"
Marc tapped his cigarette on the side of one of the many crystal ashtrays dotted around the place. He stifled a sigh and glanced at the clock. Twenty five more minutes and he was out of here. The only thing going for the place were the views. They were on the twenty fifth floor and if Marc didn't despise heights, he was sure he would really appreciate the venue. He was horny, too. The blonde in that dress was riling him up inside and he would definitely like a piece of that. He had no interest in doing another one of the waitresses. The last had left lipstick on his shirt cuff and that just wouldn't do. He met the blonde's gaze again through another swirl of exhaled cigarette smoke and trailed his eyes appreciatively down her body.
Harri shifted to cock her hip, hand resting on it as she let Marcus look her over. A small shiver ran up her spine and she took a sip from the champagne glass she held. When he was done, she took her turn to check him out. Her gaze lingered below the belt as she imagined just what he was packing there. "Hm?" She hadn't really been listening to Flynn and it took her a moment to nod in agreement. "He looks how I feel. I hate this party, and I'm the one who threw it." She lifted her eyes back up to meet Mr Fraser's and she smirked as she hitched up her dress a little. "You heard the useless snob. He's just returned from London. The last time I was in London was a year and a half ago."
"I feel like a voyeur in your little dose of eye sex happening here," Flynn sniggered and took a glass of champagne from a passing waitress. "So, what's the next move Ms Ryan? Do I make myself scarce and feign a headache so he's home free, or do you want me to snog your panties off so you can play hard to get?"
"I'm sorry, love. It wasn't like I planned it." And still she couldn't stop looking at Marcus. "Both are incredibly good options, but I think the headache one would be better. Playing hard to get can backfire so easily." She faced Flynn and hugged him briefly before she kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry the party was a flop. You should go home to your two lovers and have a party of your own. Feel free to take some Cristal."
Flynn kissed her back, doing his best to look miserable but all the while trying not to laugh. "You're the most exciting person here. It was destined to be stoic. It's what's on offer for dessert you should be looking forward to." He shot a glance over in the direction of the mysterious Brit. "I'll speak to you soon, yeah? Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Harri gave a nod, and felt his forehead for effect. "That leaves me with plenty of room to move, Flynn. I'll talk to you soon, if only so I can inform you of the quality of the dessert." She gave him a small wave and watched Flynn start to make his way out, all the while trying to bite back a smile. There was definitely a reason Flynn was worth his price. Especially since he even knew just when to leave. After a moment to look a little concerned about her friend, she had her gaze locked on Marcus Fraser and made her way over to the bar. Her hips dipped and swayed with every step, her heels clicking on the polished tile floors.
Marc hadn't taken his eyes off Harri during the whole scene. He knew a staged exit when he saw one because he was trained to pull them whenever he needed to. Still, why had the date pulled the plug? Not that they seemed close or anything. There had been nothing beyond a few kisses on the cheek and the guy's hand on her back. He propped his foot up on the railing along the bottom of the bar and leaned an elbow on the polished surface. "Can I get you a drink, sir?" the barman offered, seeming to appear out of nowhere.
"No, thank you," Marc responded in his very honed, clipped English accent. He hadn't spoken in his natural Aussie lilt in public for a long time. He did around his work colleagues, thankfully. The whole top four floors of the 'Promantech' high rise in Manhattan were SS offices; yet another highly coveted secret he was now privy to.
"Nuts?" the barman asked instead and it took all of Marc's effort not to snigger at this. Oh hell, he was still James Campbell at heart somewhere under the flashy exterior. If Izzy or Ali had been there with him, they'd be snorting champagne out there noses at that by now. He missed having fun. Being arrogant and confident, yet cheeky and devious, all the time was tiring.
Marc waved his hand. "No, I'm all good, pal," he assured him with a faint smirk and when he turned around again, his eyes landed on Harri who was now standing at the opposite end of the bar to him. Perhaps a bit of playing hard to get on his part was in order?
Harri had heard the barman, but she'd managed to fight her laughter. More firings to be made. She would make sure the next time there was bar staff to be hired she'd approve them personally. Although this guy was more entertainment than anything else had been tonight. She watched Marcus curiously, still trying to work him out. His appearance, while certainly gorgeous and perfect, still held some sort of rakish charm. Maybe it was in the eyes. The eyes that had her wet and ready to claw his clothes off about ten minutes ago. She rest her arms on the bar, and arched her back to draw his attention to her arse and legs.
Marc made a show of heavily clearing his throat and looking boredly up at the rows of liquors lined up behind the bar. He didn't look at her at first, though his eyes followed a female waitress' arse as she wove her way behind the bar to collect more glasses of champagne on her tray. He put the cigarette to his lips and then turned to openly look at Harri this time. He knew this game. Who would fold first and say something? As the hostess, it really should be her, though he never did play by the rules. He pushed off the bar and this time looked around for the exit. "Nice party," he offered, smirking.
Harri straightened up to look at him. It was true that she was waiting to see who would fold first, happy to let etiquette slide in the name of flirtation. Instead of returning with a smile, or a smirk of her own she just sneered a little. If he was trying to be funny, he had failed. "For who?"
Marc sniggered. "Not me," he confirmed with a shrug. "But then, you're not paying me to be entertained, are you?" It was a long shot, but he figured the guy with her had been an escort. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Finding a decent guy to date in this cutthroat world was damn fucking near impossible. They were all arrogant pricks and Marc really wouldn't blame her if she was, say, a lesbian.
An eyebrow crept up as she considered his comment. What should she do, acknowledge and let him assume that she was maybe pathetic? A lesbian trying to use Flynn as a shield? Or just willing to pay for what she wanted because she knew Flynn would be reliable? "He wasn't exactly entertained either until he saw you."
Marc quirked an eyebrow and then laughed. "I don't pay for it," he said simply. "So, does he get half of his tab, or did you ask him to leave?" He stubbed his cigarette out and took another small step closer to her, his own very expensive Italian leather shoes tapping softly on the floor below. "Let me guess, Santa will arrive at any moment shower us all with sex toys. Or is that just a little too much heart attack material for this lively bunch?"
"As much as I would love for Santa to arrive and shower us with sex toys, I think that little group who were making you yawn would definitely have a heart attack. Even though I probably wouldn't shed a tear for them, I would mourn the loss of advertisers and investors." Harri didn't look ruffled as he told her he didn't pay for it. She just offered a small shrug. "I refuse to trawl through bars trying to find the one diamond in amongst the coal. I'd rather spend my time usefully. He offered to leave, and as to how much of his tab he'll get that's between he and I. Now the real question is... are you planning on leaving, Mr Fraser?"
Marc took his hip flask from his breast pocket again and took a small sip. "I didn't ask you how much you paid for him," he pointed out, the smirk still set in place. "If bars are your only option, then you aren't looking hard enough. Rough diamonds can show up right under your nose and you could be missing them." He looked at his Rolex and then met her eyes again while he push his hair back off his face. "It really is way past my... bedtime."
"Bars aren't my only option, but telling you that sounds better than admitting I'm a workaholic who rarely gets out and her latest fling might only have occurred because the man's in the country for a very short time." Harri wet her lips as she considered him. She wondered if there was any answer she could give him that would possibly satisfy him. "That's a shame about your bedtime. I thought the night was finally getting interesting. Would you like me to escort you out?"
Marc laughed. "'Escort me out'? Is not drinking your booze against your security policy? Or are you trying to pick me up, Ms Ryan?" He feigned an innocent look, putting a hand on his chest. "I'm far too naive to tell the difference..." Though the way his tongue was trailing slowly across his lower lip more than went against his not so innocent declaration.
"Has anyone told you that you're incredibly infuriating? I was merely being polite, though perhaps it was a miscalculated slip of the tongue." She smirked lightly as her gaze fixed on his mouth. She didn't believe for one second he was naive. Especially given the eye fucking earlier." She took a step into him, effectively closing the gap between them, the toes of her shoes up against his. "If you would like me to speak more plainly so that you can better understand--yes, I am trying to pick you up. I want you to fuck me hard, and I want you to fuck me now." Harri's hand was back on her hip and she glared at him. "And if by some chance you're about to accuse me of being uncouth, then perhaps there really is no pleasing you."
Marc faltered only slightly. How many times at Izzy told him how infuriating he was? There was no outward showing that he was thrown, though. He held her gaze and ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "How much are you going to charge me?" he asked lowly.
Harri's blue eyes widened for a second before her hand suddenly slapped him across the cheek and she glared angrily at him, her nostrils flaring. "I'm no hooker, even if I hire one occasionally. I guess I shouldn't have wasted your time." She stalked past him, the hostess heading straight for the exit. Not only had her party been a complete flop, she had now been seen by the entire room to have assaulted one of the guests. Her night was going to be memorable for all the wrong reasons.
All muses referenced with permission
Muse | Special Agent Marcus Fraser (with Harri Ryan and Flynn Hunter)
Word Count | 3,672