Classified || 2 || ✔️ mature

15 | Andromeda

MONTHS EARLIER

'Lincoln Xavier is a man of many talents.'

"More like a man of fuck all." I mutter and swipe through his photos from the article.

They all show a charming man, his suit perfectly pressed, and hair flawlessly slicked back.

Yet behind the picture of perfection is the devil in disguise.

The CEO of Xavier pharmaceuticals, the same company that knowingly supplies the testing equipment for Samael's experiments. All for a little bit of cash.

It's just so happens that Mr. Xavier is a heartthrob with blonde hair and high cheekbones.

I check more articles, trying to find the whereabouts of Mr. Xavier.

Finding nothing I search Instagram for a fan account, they always seem to know the whereabouts of any well-known person at any given moment.

And what do you know? Lincoln Xavier is at a press meeting regarding a new drug they'll be releasing to help with the side effects of Viagra.

• • •

My cheeks are flushed a pearly pink, the freckles on my face dark under the glistening sun.

I push a girl's shoulder as I look over another's head, trying to just get one peak at the man.

A hand shoves at the middle of my back as the chatter of the crowd rises in pitch, screams erupting from girls' mouths.

I cringe and stumble forward, pushing past the first line of defence.

My hand points up in the air and waves erratically, joining the banshee wailing of the women and men around me.

"Lincoln!" I shout, stepping forward.

A security guards hand lands on my shoulders and shoves me back.

"Let her through!"

I smile demurely and step past the security guard without a backwards glance.

I dig in my pocket for the marker I brought, handing it to him with a sultry glance down his figure.

"Can I get an autograph?"

He nods and takes the marker from my hand.

I lean forward, making sure he see how low my top falls and lift a hand to pull the shoulder back more.

"Right here?" I ask and drag a nail down the centre of my cleavage.

He smirks a sickening smile, straight teeth too white but I lower my lashes anyway.

He lays a palm against my collarbone before signing his name in harsh cutting swirls and caps the lid back on. I take it by the bottom and hold it to my side.

"Thank you." I breathe, stepping back as his security steps forward once more and he turns.

I disappear back into the crowd once more, turning my back on them and making my way to my car.

I stake a seat in it and hold the marker between my fingers, grabbing the things I need to lift his fingerprint from the surface.

Next I remove the thin film I placed over my chest and peel it off, glancing at the small hairs it pull with it.

Lincoln's signature sits prettily on the clear film, a hand sized print on the top left corner.

Smiling to myself, I begin the process of scanning the hand print and making copies.