9.Circumstantial Liberation

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"Ivan Cushing" muses Lucas , sitting back while observing the papers spread across his (her) desk . The luminance from the presentation device reflects on his sharp cheek bones , Victoria notices as they slightly clench, "He's our pawn"

They are currently surrounding the oval table that dominates Victoria's conference room. A presentation going on , giving them latest whereabouts of him and a few codes run at the side of the slide.

".... Elizabeth's father , why him?" she asks , examining the most recent documents of his acquisitions.

"ah yes, worried about your girlfriend , are you?"

She looks up wide eyed- on the verge of choking on her own words " wha..what ? no! What the hell , Lucas!"

He barely gives her a glance , fully focused on the papers in his hands "please , darling. Don't pretend like i didn't notice all those trips to the clubs and shopping malls"

"yes, we were celebrating being liberated from incompetent and miserable men."

She brings her attention back to the reports , but now she had his . He walks over to the other side of the table , his hands loosely hanging in his pockets he had rolled up is sleeves a long time ago , but its not until he pushed the papers in her hands down that she catches a glimpse of his forearms .

"who said you are liberated though ?"

The same malice drips from the words he speaks , a voice that has tortured her to the brink of self-annihilation and self-acceptance .The tension balled up is unbearable between her and the devil in Saint Laurent suit. She gulps , as her breathing is slightly on the verge of unevenness ,the coldness in his eyes up to a degree scares her " Lucas i'm-"

" -going to do exactly as i command you , darling" He grins toothily , but his eyes don't. His head tilted to one side , a lethal combination of sheer amusement and sadism "its adorably-naïve of you to assume id let you go so easy. I thought you knew better, Victoria"

He walks away , she doesn't speak. Keeping her gaze down. There was no saying that the man in front of her had a new thirst for cruelty , a mutilating longing for sin.

From the looks of it , it was personal.

Coming from the women who is in bed with the connoisseur of crime , getting personal with him wasn't a good idea.

~ *~*~

"Ms. Victoria Smith , thank you for responding. You took your sweet time , i see"

"Priorities" she articulates , looking around the mansion.

Elizabeth is rather humble to have spent her childhood in the house with rooms to fill out population of a small island. The interior was far from minimalistic, every second item gold plated , huge windows providing ventilation occasional renaissance painting hung out in the hall.

"I hope the flight wasn't rushed , follow me please. "

"It was" she glares at the man Elizabeth called 'father', a pathetic excuse really. In her opinion, "you make a compelling offer"

He nods leading her through expensively decorated corridors, his shoes have a sense of hastening exploit as they occasionally squeak against the marble floor followed with her own ,stilettos. She is a long way from scruffy jeans , cheap black t-shirts and her signature leather jackets, but the only core skill that remains is her knowledge and expertise in retrieving information of country's military secrets , inducing political scandals , blowing up high-level security prisons with a Red-bull and a laptop.

"or should i say...threat? you should know better than to make enemies right now"

He stops walking-

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