Kory Anders steeled herself.
There, not five feet away, was not her target. Richard Grayson. Not in a cat suit, not wearing a ski mask, and definitely not wearing a bullet proof vest. His jet black hair was mussed to perfection. Kory noticed through her completely professional observations that even when he threw his head back to laugh, his hair never moved. Quality hair gel, she deduced, wondering if she could ask him what he uses should she ever get the chance.
Her own fiery locks were covered by a light brown wig that hung down her back whilst her simple maroon gown cinched at the waist before flowing to the ground. All in all, she was very unassuming and didn't attract attention. The goal.
Kory never understood how the heroines in movies always dressed to the nines, and then acted surprised when they were found out. They might as well have had 'I'm paid by the government' tattooed on their foreheads. Whom, incase you were wondering, don't pay well. She knew from experience.
Kory's dress covered her figure without being too unflattering and her makeup downplayed her features rather than enhancing them. The idea was to blend in, become a nameless face in the crowd. Give no one reason to do a double take.
Richard Grayson, heir of the prestigious Wayne Enterprises and notorious player, certainly caused Kory to take a second look. His nightly escapades always found their way into the paper. She had to agree with all the gossip columns; he really was gorgeous.
She didn't realize she was staring for long until he turned and met her gaze with a well placed smirk. Fantastic secret agent she was, couldn't even control her staring.
She allowed her eyes to drop to the champagne glass that had found its way into her hand sometime during the evening. It was really very interesting. And the more she stared down the glass, the more she could pretend that Richard Grayson wasn't making his way towards her. Nope.
Kory ignored him until she could make out his expensive dress shoes through the pink champagne. He cleared his throat and her brown eyes met his.
"Now why would a pretty lady such as you be standing alone instead of out on the dance floor?" His eyebrow quirked up effortlessly.
Kory's face went red. Not because he called her a lady or commented she was pretty. She could smell the bull and more than suspected his less than honorable intentions. No, it was that fact that she was indeed alone. Even though she was a damn good agent and her assignment partner was on paternity leave, she couldn't help but feel pathetic attending a socialite ball alone.
"Why would a bachelor, such as you, leave his playboy date to bother the 'pretty lady' who is clearly not interested?" She retorted, not in the mood for flirtatious banter. And why he was talking with her was still a mystery. Kory could see Richard's date eyeing her with contempt every few seconds. Richard reached over and plucked her glass out of her hand, setting it on a nearby table. She narrowed her eyes.
"I simply must insist you have at least one dance. Nobody comes to a ball and doesn't dance. Especially my ball."
"No, I really don't-" he grabbed her hand firmly and pulled her after him onto the ball room floor amongst the dancing couples. One hand on her waist, the other grasping her hand, Richard pulled her close, too close, and began swaying.
"Now isn't this more entertaining than scoping out escape routes?" He asked softly, speaking into her ear. Kory's breath caught and it was no small feat that she kept her body relaxed and her voice light. She leaned back just enough to see his face. They could be talking about the weather for all anyone knew.
"Escape routes? Well I don't know, Mr. Grayson. Have you never considered that someone could be looking for an in, not an out? Wayne mansion is legendary after all." Richard chuckled and shook his head. Kory narrowed her eyes as his hair stayed in place. Never trust a person with perfect hair.
"How rude of me. You know my name, and I still don't know yours. Strange, considering I know everyone in this room." His eyes flashed. "Everyone but you."
"Lauren Sanders. I own a small boutique in downtown New York."
"You don't sound like a New Yorker." He said.
"I grew up as a foster child. Moved around so much I couldn't obtain a specific accent. Or family."
"That's quite a tragic story," Richard commented. "Now how about you tell me your real name."
"I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about." She grinned as he spun her. "Can't a girl party crash without being interrogated?"
"Sure, only most girls don't carry guns underneath their dresses, and actually want to dance." He mocked, tightening his grip and sending her a pointed look. Kory's blood chilled and she discreetly tried to see if her gun was showing from her right hip. She looked back up at him calculatingly.
"How did you know I was carrying a gun?"
"I didn't until now."
Kory glared, opening her mouth to put him in his place when something caught her eye. Turning her head ever so slightly, she spotted two waiters arguing quietly. The bigger one discreetly checked his watch before motioning to the smaller one to follow him out into the hall. Kory furrowed her eyebrows. Her mission folder stated that someone at this residence would be exchanging plutonium. She had just figured it would've been a guest.
She broke away from her dance partner to follow the culprits only to have Richard pull her back.
"They're getting away!" She whispered frantically.
"Stay here, I've got this. This is no job for the police, especially wearing those shoes." Kory glanced down at her heels. They really were impractical, but people would notice if she was wearing combat boots! She looked up to tell him just so and found he was gone. Kory gritted her teeth. Stupid men. And she wasn't from the police! As fast as she could without drawing attention, Kory exited the godforsaken ballroom and hurried out into the hallway. Away from prying eyes, she took a moment to dispose of her heels. If the swishing of her dress didn't give her away, then the click-clack of her heels would.
Kory was then faced with another problem. Which hallway did they go down? She sighed; this was going to be a long night.
