—
Chapter 1
She looks over to see Steve talking to Fury. She's already had her debriefing session. She and Rogers were each receiving half of the puzzle. That way, if the worst happened and one of them was caught, the enemy couldn't know everything. The soundproof glass means she can't hear what is being said.
"You ready for this?" She looks up to see Barnes eyeing her curiously.
"I suppose. Never been undercover with a long term partner."
"Steve's good on the job." Barnes says easily.
She laughs, "you've never seen him undercover."
Barnes shrugs in admittance but his eyes are full of mirth, "he's a chameleon that one. When he wants to blend in he can. You'd be surprised."
"Any tips?"
The man looks at her thoughtfully before his eyes flick to Rogers and Fury. "Truthfully?" He says with a challenging eyebrow raise.
"Yes, truthfully."
"Trust him completely. If he suddenly switches gears or does something you don't expect. Don't question it. He doesn't do things he's not sure of. So trust him. He can hear and see and sense things you can't." She's about to protest, but he holds a hand up, "I mean physically he can do those things because of the serum." She nods for him to continue, "but I've also never had Steve steer me wrong. The guy just has this intuition. So follow his lead. And you'll have plenty of time to lead too. He's not a power hog. You do that and you'll be set."
Peggy watches as Steve and Fury stand and shake hands. Barnes eyes her and she nods, acknowledging his advice.
—
She takes 6 flights. Each one to a random location. She's given a bank account that can't be traced to any organization or name other than her aliases. It's a large account. Very, very large. She would have gasped at the number if she hadn't been in public.
It's a bit of a frightening concept. How long did they expect this to take? And what type of aliases would she be having? She knew there were multiple coming down the line.
Steve was on separate flights. At first Fury had them together, but Steve had insisted that they should 'meet' after they've made their initial contacts. That it would be less suspicious that way for them to integrate into the group. Two random people arriving at once would draw more attention.
She was meeting her mark first. A woman who went by the name Freesia on paper. Peggy had studied any scrap of information on her. They needed to become friends, Fury had told her since Pink Slip knew the owner of one of Hydra's old stomping grounds.
Each alias would hopefully lead them one step closer to whoever was at the top. Hydra's last tentacle attempting to stay alive.
Not if she had anything to say about it.
—-
She touches down in Rome and smiles. At least the location would be beautiful.
She settles into her apartment and goes out to immediately buy groceries, flowers, books, and anything else that will make it feel more like her home.
Peggy makes friends with the people in the local shops. Calling them by their first names and acting like she's known them for years. They smile a bit awkwardly at her, but she just laughs and keeps talking, pretending not to notice.
"—and then I was like, come on Gracie! Get your head into the game!" She laughs self-deprecatingly at herself and watches as the people latch onto the name she's given them.
No one will forget her name is Gracie now.
It takes days of careful plotting and planning, but soon she's made them believe she's been here for a few months, and they just haven't noticed. On a job that's going to last 'who knows how long' she quips in broken Italian. Pretending not to speak the language perfectly.
Her American accent is sharp and draws eyes. Which is perfect. She wants everyone to corroborate her story when the time comes.
—
It doesn't take long for Peggy to see her mark. Freesia's hair is indeed a colorful representation of her moniker. Purple and pink curls fall in large waves around her shoulders. Her skin is tan and eyes such a bright blue that Peggy can't help associate her look with a cartoon character.
Peggy waits another week before entering the restaurant that she knows will get her in contact.
She sits at the bar and waits, ordering a drink and taking pretend sips. A man comes to sit by her and she doesn't acknowledge his presence at first.
But eventually, the short dark haired man grows impatient and leans towards her. "You are a lovely new addition here tonight."
She looks over and smiles, "why thank you."
The man glances around, "are you here with someone?"
Peggy at leasts appreciates his candor. "No, I'm alone, for now."
He smiles at her and motions for the bartender to come over.
—
By his third drink, he's getting a bit tipsy and Peggy is pretending to be as well, although her drinks have all managed to find their way down the drain or into his cup. He's not a very observant man and this works perfectly for her.
Suddenly her eyes catch the pink hair and she leans closer to the man pretending to listen to his slurred story. She motions to the bartender and he fills their drinks again.
—-
She leaves the man and heads to the bathroom. As she's walking back she sees her. Peggy starts sniffling and when she dabs at her eyes, she pokes at them roughly. They well up with tears and get red.
She pretends not to notice the pink haired woman as she walks forlornly to the bathroom.
She stumbles and bumps into the woman, "I'm sorry!" She says, with just a touch of slur, "I'm sorry." Peggy pretends to cover her eyes and try to make a fast getaway, but the woman snakes out her hand and stops Peggy.
"What's the matter?"
Peggy scrubs at her face, smearing her makeup purposefully, "Nothing, I'm so sorry for bumping into you!" She tries to pull away again, facing away from the woman. But the woman's hand tightens on her wrist.
"This is my establishment, I can't have people upset. What happened?"
Peggy lets out another sob, scrubbing harder at her eyes. Then she tries to smile pitifully, "my sob story would ruin your night." She tries to chuckle as if making a joke only to let her self sob again as she screws up her face, pretending to cry harder, "I'm sorry, please, I'm fine—" she tries to pull out of her grasp one last time, a final solidification of her distress in the woman's eyes.
"Nope." The woman says, "you're coming with me."
Peggy pretends to act confused and ask slightly slurred questions as she lets herself be led to a small VIP section. The woman sits her down and hands her a water bottle.
She accepts it and drinks half of it, looking around as if she's a bit lost.
"Stay here." The colorful haired woman commands. She nods and the woman leaves her alone. She can hear people in the booths around her but she doesn't go exploring. Hopefully if she gains friendship with her mark she'll have time for that later.
A few minutes later, she comes back with a tray of breads, fruits, cheeses, and pastries. She sets it down and puts her hands on her hips. "Eat."
Peggy only briefly pretends to hesitate before she grabs some items and eats them hungrily. The selection is excellent and she eats a good bit before leaning back and digging through her purse for a hankerchief.
She finds it and wipes at her eyes, cleaning up the tears and smeared makeup.
"Thank you," Peggy says softly, "that was really very kind."
"I hate seeing people cry." The woman says, "what happened, did someone do something?"
Peggy shakes her head and looks forlornly at the table, "no, it wasn't that, it was…" she trails off and then looks up with a sad expression, "have you ever been in love?"
The woman laughs, "hundreds of times."
Peggy lets herself chuckle at the joke and then she smiles, "good for you." The woman motions for her to continue so she does, "I was in love, just once… and I…" she sighs, letting her handkerchief ghost back under her eyes, "I let it slip through my fingers and now he's gone."
Freesia leans forward, "what happened?"
"I didn't tell him how I felt, and then—" she lets her voice crack, "he died in a car crash not even a week later." She breaks down, crying into her hands. Hands rest on her shoulder and she eventually gets herself together, looking back up. "See, sorry, I shouldn't have burdened you with my sob story."
Genuine concern crosses the pink haired face, "I'm not burdened with it at all. What a tragic story, and I'm so sorry you've been through that."
Peggy nods forlornly, "the man I was with at the bar was kind of nice, but compared to who I had, it's just—" she chokes up but finishes her sentence, "—what if I never find love like that again?"
Everything she's found out about this woman has told her that she's a sucker for a good romance story. While she may know some seedy people, she herself has always been more of a matchmaker. She gets the people to meet who they need to meet and then steps away.
"Loss can be devastating," the woman comments, "but I bet there's someone out there for you." She says this with such surprising confidence that Peggy looks up and allows hope to cross her face,
"You think so?"
"I know so."
"You've been so kind, thank you for the food."
"This is one of my establishments," the woman says, "can't have girls crying. It's bad for business."
They both laugh and Peggy takes another swig of water, "I don't even know your name—" she sticks out her hand, "I'm Grace. I go by Gracie though."
The lady smiles and shakes her hand, "you can call me Freesia."
Peggy laughs, "like the flower?"
She nods and they chat for a long time. Peggy is open with her information and she learns a few bits about the woman she didn't already know, although Freesia is smart and not an oversharer.
"Alright," Peggy says finally, popping a grape in her mouth, "I can impose on your hospitality no longer. Thank you so much, and I promise to make this a local hangout. I want to support your business since you've been such a support to me."
Freesia stands up and shakes her hand, "I look forward to seeing you around."
Peggy nods and takes her leave of absence, walking out the door into the crisp night and trailing home to her flat.
—
Peggy is a patient woman, but she wonders everyday what Fury's plan is. She had sent in her first checkpoint message 6 weeks ago, alerting Fury that she had made contact and established a rapport.
In total she's been in Rome over 2 months and it has been radio silence the whole time. But she does her daily routine without fail.
Wake up, chat with the cafe goers, work in the little boutique she'd gotten a job at through careful plotting. And every other night she stops into Fressia's place: The Silk Star.
Her and the bartender are on a first name basis now, and she's known by all the staff if not friends with them. It's a strange thing about undercover work, when you make actual friends with someone even if they don't know a single true thing about you.
It's another simple day when she walks through the door and is quickly hauled to the side by Freesia.
Peggy squeaks in surprise and looks around in confusion, "what is it?"
Freesia is smiling and looking conspiratorially at her. "I have found someone for you."
Peggy reels back in shock, "what?"
The woman laughs, "I just have this sense," she starts pushing Peggy through the restaurant, "you've been looking for great love and I've found him."
A nervous ball of energy sits in Peggy's stomach and she allows the nervousness to play into her voice, "Freesia be serious—"
"I am! Watch." Peggy can smell Fressia's strong scented lotion as she's shoved towards the VIP area. Except Fressia bypasses their usual booth and leads her off to the side.
Peggy wonders briefly if she's about to be matchmade with a Hydra operative only to be stopped at a booth and come face to face with Steve.
Dark brown hair, thick full beard, eyes a deep green, and glasses perched on his nose.
But she'd know him anywhere by now.
Freesia comes to her side and waves at Peggy, "William, this is Gracie, Gracie this is William," she turns and gives a mock apologetic expression to Peggy, "sorry that our usual booth was full, but I'm sure you guys will be fast friends. Be back with drinks in a minute!"
Peggy pretends to be shocked and tries to stop her, knowing full well their booth was empty, but Fressia laughs her off and shoves her closer to the booth.
She's gone in an instant and Peggy turns slowly back to Steve. "Sorry about her." Peggy says in a wry American accent, "she's playing matchmaker."
She's not sure why she expects Steve to be awkward or stern or gruff, or any of the ways she's seen him be, but instead he smiles easily and waves for her to join him in the booth, "I was pretty sure I walked past plenty of empty booths."
He smiles. She's about to celebrate her victory only to realize that these undercover smiles don't count.
They're not real. All for show.
Damn.
Speaking that thought from her head, she laughs and slips into the seat next to him, "like she said, I'm Gracie."
She extends her hand and he shakes it with his warm, firm, grasp. "I'm Will." Steve blinks at her and then he rolls his eyes, "Will and Grace. Hilarious."
"I beg your pardon?"
Steve shakes his head, "I just was thinking of something my boss did. He thinks he's funny." Peggy eyes him curiously and he just huffs a laugh, "it's nothing. So tell me about yourself Gracie?"
They talk for a while, and Freesia returns with the promised drinks.
They sip lightly and continue talking, sharing their aliases and speaking very lightly in code everyonce and awhile.
"So," Freesia says with a smile, popping back by, "how are we doing? Need anything?"
Steve looks at her and she's surprised to see the soft intensity as he looks into her eyes, "I'm okay, do you want anything, Grace?"
She lets herself stare into his eyes as well and shakes her head, "no, I'm good."
Peggy can practically feel the smug gloating expression that Freesia is looking at them with.
"Well then I'll let you two be."
Once Freesia is gone, Steve blinks and pulls back, "I think this is going well." He says easily, his double meaning clear.
"Same." She agrees.
"Would you like to meet me here again? Maybe Saturday night? At 8 o'clock?"
"William, are you asking me out on a date?"
Steve smiles and leans in, "I'm trying to, if you're open to it."
She lets herself lean in and she picks up her drink and clinks it to his, "it's a date."
And his eyes get a bit sly as he mimics her words, "a date."
—-
Steve leaves first and Freesia is at her table almost instantly with a half knowing-half expectant look on her face.
Peggy lets herself squeal out a girlish giggle, "you're so bad!"
Freesia smiles and slides next to her, "so, what did you think?"
Peggy settles back and smiles softly, "well he's so handsome and very kind, where did you meet him?"
"Oh, I barely know him, he's new at one of my friend's restaurants."
"New?"
Freesia nods, picking at a platter of fruits, "he's a chef, an amazing one at that, and I met him the other night, and he just popped in my head for you. I could just sense he'd be a good match."
She allows a look of surprised impresseness to cross her face, as her mind tries to solidify the information. Steve cooks?
"Well, I'm not going to put my cart before the horse but I'd say you have a pretty good instinct. He asked me on a date!"
Freesia gasps and claps her hands, her bright hair bouncing up and down, "I knew it!" She turns seriously to Peggy, "please tell me you're having it here!"
Peggy laughs, "of course! We're meeting back here Saturday."
The woman stands and smiles dreamily, "oh, it's true love I can just smell it!"
She's gone before Peggy can respond.
—-
The second message is sent, alerting Fury that they've now made contact with each other. Then she gets ready for Saturday night.
Her background and story is down pat, and she devises coded phrases to pass the bits of information she's been able to gather about Freesia and her connection to the next Hydra Operative.
She sets her hair the night before and sleeps deeply.
—-
He's standing at the entrance, waiting for her.
And he's bloody handsome. Well cut trousers, and a fitted shirt make him seem quite imposing, but his relaxed posture and extended arm make him approachable. She links her arm through his and Freesia leads them to a new area. Peggy hadn't known there was another hallway in the restaurant. It wasn't in the blueprints. And she finds herself subtly glancing to try to retain every detail of the new hallway and set of doors.
Freesia picks a door and opens it. A dark room, lit by candlelight and small warm electric bulbs make for a romantic atmosphere. A table with flowers and food on one side and a small lounge with a table on the other.
Peggy shows her surprise, "Freesia, what is this?"
The woman smiles wickedly at her, "these are our private rooms. Allows for total privacy and enjoyment of your company." She points to the table set with food. "In 45 minutes, your entrees will arrive, and an hour after that, dessert." She points to the lounge area. "You can sit here and eat and talk and grab your food whenever you like. Drink orders?"
Peggy and Steve each give an order and watch as she leaves.
"Well," Peggy says softly. But Steve cuts her off,
"I'm impressed by the level of privacy. This must be a popular place for them to have such nice private rooms."
The way he repeats himself alerts her to the opposite. She's not sure how but Steve believes they're being watched. Which wouldn't surprise her if Freesia is in with Hydra or its affiliates. They probably have each room bugged and recorded.
"Maybe they have a lot of high class clients who want to avoid the public eye?"
Steve nods, "possibly. Still it's very kind of her to allow us to use one."
Kind. Or purposeful.
She remembers Barnes' words. If Steve thinks they're being watched or listened too, then she'd rather play it safe and believe that too.
"So," she starts, "you hungry?"
"I am." He gestures towards the table and picks up one of the two plates and hands it to her, "please, you start."
She walks over to the table laden with appetizers and small plates and she selects a few. "My the options."
Steve 'hmms' in agreement and selects his own. They make their way over to the lounge, and sit. Peggy wants to roll her eyes at how the chairs are designed. They connect and make a sort of V, pushing their bodies closer than would be normal for a first date.
"Let me," Steve says softly, picking something from her plate, and she notices that he briefly, so quickly, brings it to his lips and nose before gently holding it in front of her mouth. She eyes him curiously, but his face is calm. She accepts the bite of food and chews slowly as he picks up another piece and eats it.
It's a strange dance back and forth as he seems to repeat his earlier motion and it confuses her, but more because she feels like she should know what he's doing.
They talk about their backstories as if they're learning about each other on this 'first date'. They hadn't shared details about their aliases as for this particular mission they would be 'getting to know each other'.
They talk until well after the entrees are gone and she feels a bit lost as Steve drinks not only his drinks, but most of hers as well. She sips on the remaining bit, and sort of waits for him to get drunk, but he never does.
Although…. He does seem to pretend to be. If she didn't know him well, she would assume he was inebriated, but she can spot the act in the way his eyes stay sharply on her and the room.
Finally the dessert is served and Steve repeats the strange motion from before. The bread pudding is delicious as they slowly eat it and at the end, Peggy looks down at the empty plate and she leans back.
"I don't think I've eaten that much food in quite some time."
Steve nods and his smile is a bit wry, "I'll have to cook for you sometime. Ensure you're getting proper meals."
"You never told me what restaurant you work for?"
He leans back, looking at her and his voice is low as he speaks, "it's called The Ghoulish Garden. You'll have to come by."
She nods, "I would love to." There's a brief moment of pause where the air charges with electricity. Steve leans closer, "I had an amazing time getting to know you tonight, would you like to go out again sometime?"
"Yes—" she lets her voice be a bit wobbly with anticipation and excitement, "I would."
"Then come by my work, on Tuesday, at 10pm. Is that too late?"
"No, that's perfect, I'll be there."
They stand and walk to the door and she can see Steve's about to open the handle when he turns back to her, "would—" she can see the hesitation, "is it too forward of me to kiss you?"
And this time she lets actual surprise bloom across her face. Not that this isn't part of the job, it is, but she wonders why now in this instant. But she remembers Barnes' advice.
"I was hoping you'd ask." She says cheekily.
He steps forward, pressing his lips to hers as his hands find her back and neck and hold her tightly. She kisses him back, remembering the salty air of their last kiss while she winds her fingers up into his soft hair.
It's only mere moments before he pulls away and leads her out the door. Freesia is not more than a few steps away and Steve pays the bill and leads her outside.
He waves goodbye and steps into a cab. And Peggy's about to walk to her place when a hand grabs her wrist.
"Gracie, don't you dare leave without giving me the details!"
She turns to see an excited Freesia holding her wrist.
Peggy smiles dreamily, "he asked me out again and—" she leans in, acting the tiniest bit tipsy and whispering loudly, "he kissed me!"
"I knew it!" Freesia shouts, laughing and shaking Peggy in excitement. "Are you coming back here for your next date?"
"No, no, he asked me to come to his work, I think he's going to—" she hiccups softly and smiles, "I think he wants to cook for me."
"How romantic!" Fressia exclaims, spinning her around, "you'll have to come tell me all about it!"
"Oh, I will." Peggy promises, "you're the reason I've met him!"
They part ways and Peggy walks slowly home, sorting through the details Steve had shared in their coded conversations but also the revelation that Freesia's business extends further than she knew.
Her door is just shut behind her when her senses go on alert.
She drops to the floor and picks up the handgun she had secured under the entryway table. She takes one step in and rounds the corner, pointing the gun at the figure sitting in one of her chairs.
"It's me." His voice says calmly.
She lowers the gun and sighs, "you know, you could have warned me."
He bypasses her statement and leans forward, "did she say anything after I left?"
"Nothing except she's excited about our next date. Not even a qualm about us going to your work."
He nods, "that's good." He looks about ready to speak when she puts her hand on her hip and sets the gun down.
"I need a few explanations."
He pauses and raises his eyebrow, "like?"
"The food thing, what was that for, with putting it close to your mouth and nose?"
He frowns, "being poisoned is not fun. Thought you'd like to avoid it if possible."
Her mind reels, "you can smell poison?"
He shrugs, "mostly. Not all of them."
She scoffs, "and how many times have you been poisoned?"
This time he frowns, "we're getting off topic."
"Why did you kiss me?"
He sighs, "I could hear Freesia talking out there, and she mentioned how I hadn't kissed you yet, which confirmed what I'd thought that there was surveillance in that room. I couldn't tell if she thought it was suspicious or just disappointed that I hadn't. So I thought I'd play it safe."
"Oh."
"I've checked your apartment, I didn't find any bugs."
Peggy bristles, "I've checked my own apartment thank you. I don't need you double checking my work."
Steve sighs, "that's not what I meant, I just—"
"You just what?" She asks, cutting him off.
He glares at her and stands, "I—" he cuts off and shakes his head, "nevermind. I'll get out of your way." He nods and leaves without waiting for her to respond and she stands there feeling like maybe she was a bit too harsh.
—
She sits on the stainless steel counter as Steve does final checks. The other chef bids them farewell and soon it's just the two of them, in the silent kitchen.
"Are you hungry?" He asks softly, "I don't know if the meeting will happen soon or later."
"I could eat." She admits.
In a coded conversation on their first date, he had informed her that there was a potential meeting of who they hoped were in relation or at least adjacent to the Hydra operatives they needed. That was why he wanted their date at his restaurant. To set a 'chance' encounter.
He moves with a grace that surprises her and soon the sound of searing vegetables and toasting bread fill the kitchen.
A plate is set before her. Bruschetta with a balsamic glaze, pan seared vegetables with a savory cream sauce and a nest of noodles with a vodka sauce appear before her.
He leans back against the counter and waits. She lifts it to her nose and smells the aroma that makes her mouth water. The first bite melts in her mouth and she relishes each bite after that. She thanks him and he nods as he goes about cleaning up.
She's about to ask a question when she hears the front door jingle.
Her senses go on high alert, but suddenly there's an almost empty wine glass in her hand and Steve's standing between her legs and leaning in close.
She has no more than a second to process before the kitchen door is swinging open.
"William?"
Steve turns and gives a smirk and a wink to a man with thick dark hair,
"Hey Bruno."
The man eyes Peggy appreciatively, in a way that makes her want to crush the glass in her hand, but she just smiles a bit coyly, "hello," she says in a thick American accent, letting her body sway a bit as if from the wine.
"Non fare un pasticcio."* The man says with a salacious wink back at Steve.
Don't make a mess.
"Dai, chi pensi che io sia?"
Come on, who do you think I am?
The man chuckles heavily before pointing at him, "sei un cane."
You're a dog.
Steve just laughs, and Peggy feels the hand that is facing Bruno grip her tighter. She lets out a sigh and leans against his shoulder, hiding her face.
She hears the door swing shut and suddenly he's gone, five feet away from her and face back to neutral.
Peggy knew it was an act but the shift is a bit jarring. "He's not a high up," Steve says quietly, collecting her dishes and turning on the water to hide their conversation, "but he knows everything. And he's a bit loose-lipped when he feels powerful. So him catching us close will hopefully make him feel like he can lord it over me and I can learn something. He's a sleaze too. Just so you know."
She nods, still feeling the heat and the ghost of his hand where it had grasped her waist tightly.
She hears the doorbell jingle a few times but no one else comes through the kitchen. Steve makes a dessert and hands it to her as he sets trays of food and drinks that Bruno and another young looking guy come to grab. She eats the delicious caramel cake confection and listens to everything that she can.
Everytime Bruno or the other man is in the room, Steve shifts back into the character. More touchy, more loud mouthed and bravado filled. He and Bruno trade misogynistic jokes in Italian that Peggy pretends she can't understand, just smiles dumbly and fake sips at her glass of wine.
And the moment Bruno is gone, Steve is back, quiet and working and neutral.
She knows she's good at being undercover, but the ease in which he slips back and forth… It's a bit disconcerting.
—-
She tells Freesia that the third date went well, and uses their conversation as a way to solidify their relationship.
Freesia seems none the wiser and when she goes to take care of something in the kitchen, Peggy wanders a bit, pretending to explore and check out the corners of the restaurant she hadn't known about. It doesn't yield much but each bit of information is necessary.
—
Steve is the one to learn the name. Apparently Bruno had indeed decided to taunt Steve with his late night date and in doing so let slip the name of one of the bosses of the restaurant. That name is sent to Fury and they get their change of alias slips in less than a week.
—-
She tearfully says goodbye to Freesia, putting on the waterworks as she explains her sick mother needs her back in Vermont and how she wishes she could stay. Freesia seems equally saddened about the move and asks about her and William.
"Well," Peggy admits, "I don't know. He said he'd try to stay in touch, but this is seriously long distance."
Freesia nods sadly and sighs, "that's too bad, I really felt like he could have been the one for you."
Peggy sighs just as sadly, "me too." Then she puts on a brave face and hugs the woman, "I'll keep in touch okay, and when I come back I'll find you."
The smile and hug Freesia gives her seems genuine and Peggy leaves the restaurant for the last time.
—-
She steps into her new apartment in Almeria, Spain and smiles at the view. The ocean is not far and she can see it shimmering in the dimming sunlight. So far locations have been 2 for 2 on this undercover gig.
She sets down her bags and follows her first routine. She buys the necessities and a few items that make the apartment hers.
She buys the bleach and the box dye she needs and sets to work.
—-
Her deep red hair shines in the light of her bathroom and she smiles. She doesn't get to be a red-head often, it's a lot to maintain, but hell if it doesn't look fabulous.
She applies the dark lipstick, dons her tight black dress, throws her heels over her shoulder, and walks down to the local pub, knowing this mission, time is of the essence.
—-
She enters the crowded pub, her heels now on her feet, and immediately feels a hand on her waist.
"Hola, mi amor, te estaba esperando."
Hello, my love, I've been waiting for you.
"Quítame la mano de encima o encuéntrala rota." She responds back, accent perfect.
Take your hand off me or find it broken.
The man sneers at her and she glares back. But he slinks off into the crowd.
She makes it to the bar and orders a drink. It takes a while but she is patient as she surveys the crowd. The bartender hands her the glass and she thanks him, placing a huge tip into the jar and making his eyebrows raise,
"¿Quién está a cargo aquí?" She asks with no hesitation.
Who is in charge here?
He nods in the direction of a man who is up on a balcony, high above the crowd in what looks like a VIP section.
"¿Y cómo se hace para hablar con él?"
And how does one go about speaking with him?
"Habla con mujeres hermosas y buenas propinas. Ambos están. Las escaleras están por ahí."
He speaks with beautiful women and good tippers. You are both. The stairs are over there.
He points to a hallway and she smiles again before placing another large tip directly into his shirt pocket. He grasps her hand and kisses it, to which she smiles and raises a suggestive eyebrow at, before disappearing through the crowd.
—
The man guarding the stairs doesn't even ask her a single question. He simply removes the velvet rope and allows her to pass. The glass condensates in the warm weather, and she feels the drips as it runs down her hand. She ignores it as she steps onto the landing and turns to ascend the second set of stairs. The air continues to get warmer and she's glad she chose light makeup for the evening.
A man greets her at the top and when she repeats her questions, he points to the same man the bartender had. Her walk is slow and deliberate as she approaches him.
He turns to her and his smile is immediate.
"Ya sé por qué estás aquí."
I already know why you are here.
"¿Tú haces?"
You do?
"La oferta de trabajo, ¿correcto?"
The job opening, correct?
She smiles. But inside she's wondering what it means. She hadn't been given a job placement, just a name that she was to use to ensure they believed her. So this must be the connection Fury was hoping for.
"Si," she responds, "La oferta de trabajo. Me envió Paola."
Yes, the job opening. I was sent by Paola.
He looks at her and his head tilts. "¿Cuál es tu lengua materna?"
What is your native tongue?
She laughs and responds in English with an London accent. "English."
"Ah," he responds, switching to English easily, his accent thick, "Our island neighbor."
She nods and steps closer, noticing the way his eyes trace her body before rising back up to her face.
"This job offer." She speaks, getting closer and closer, "you think I'd be a good fit?"
His hand comes up and trails on her bare shoulder. "My clients will pay well to be served by a woman as beautiful as you. You will be sought after."
She smiles, sipping her drink. "I look forward to it."
His hand finds her waist and she resists the urge to slam the palm of her hand against his nose, "I look forward to seeing you everyday."
She hmms in her throat and leans against the balcony, turning to face him and using the angles of her body to distract him as she studies the crowd around her, "I know you will." She says with a smirk before tapping at his lips with her painted fingernails. "When do I start?"
He licks his lips in a way that makes Peggy want to roll her eyes. Then he points to a man who is facing away from her. "He has the details. Make sure he gives them to you."
She nods and leaves, smiling wickedly at him as she turns.
She's given an address, a date, and a time and she tucks the card into her dress before leaving back out into the hot summer's night.
—-
She wears tight jeans and a cropped top. Feeling the sun on her midriff and breeze on her collarbones as she walks to the address she'd been given. It's only just approaching late afternoon and she knocks on the door only once before it's opened.
She walks into what is clearly a high end bar. Except that instead of a traditional bartop or tables, there are sunken booths, set deep into the floor. She can see the stairs that lead into each one and the cozy leather plush seating areas that in the darkness would create an intimate setting.
She calms her sense of flight, and follows the man leading her down through the main room and towards a back hallway. She enters a lounge that is dimly lit.
A door opens to her right and she can see a long dressing room with racks of outfits and vanities with glowing light bulbs surrounding them.
"Ah," the man who was at the bar a week ago stands to greet her. He kisses each cheek and then holds her chin, "you're a sight for these weary eyes."
She smiles and glances around as he releases her face. "Are you in charge here too?"
He laughs and gestures to a man who is in what looks like a deep conversation with a young woman. "I am co-partners with my brother, Ricky." He gestures at a seat and she sits. "I don't want to make you feel like I misled you," he starts, "but there have been a lot of applicants for this position. So an interview and audition are required.
Of bloody course they were.
She nods and looks at them demurely, "what do I need to do?"
"Follow Bria here into the back room and she'll show you a rack of outfits. Choose what suits you best and come back. The interview will happen out on the floor."
The woman who Ricky was talking to appears at her side and motions for her to follow. Peggy complies and follows her beyond the door to the dressing room.
She picks a deep green number that accentuates her chest and hugs her curves. Gold bracelets and armbands and then an ankle piece that trails up her calf. She chooses to go barefoot and the woman raises an eyebrow at her.
She adjusts her hair and makeup. Adding gold flecks to her eyeshadow and gold and pearl pins to her hair that she twists up into a simple but elegant bun. She drags a few strands around to frame her face and then reapplies a lighter lipstick.
"What do you think?" She asks the woman.
"I think—" the woman responds with a heavy accent and an amused smile, "that you will be competition for the other girls."
Peggy grins, "good."
—
She steps out, letting her heart rate calm as she walks smoothly out to the floor. The lights have been dimmed and she sees the way the lights flicker off the jewelry she chose.
"Come here, mi amor." The man says firmly, gesturing her forward. She lets her soft footfalls entrance him as she sways her hips and glides towards him.
She descends the stairs slowly, ensuring that the slit parts perfectly, revealing the smooth skin on her leg. She slides into the seat next to the man and leans close, ensuring he can smell her freshly applied perfume and get an eye full of her chest.
He laughs and leans in, "my dear I don't know why I even doubted you. You're hired."
She tilts her head and smiles, "that's what I thought."
"You start tonight." He says firmly, backing up, "at 10p.m. Wear this."
"Your wish is my command." She responds in a soft and alluring tone.
He laughs again and points at her, "serás la muerte de algún pobre."
You will be the death of some poor man.
She lets out a breathy laugh that makes him lean towards her again, and she makes sure she looks at him with desiring eyes before replying, "Solo si se lo merece."
Only if he deserves it.
—
That night, she is busier than she can imagine. And she laughs at herself once she's back in the dressing room with the other woman and the amount of money she's made.
She's not sure how to describe her job. It's like a mix between a waitress and an escort. Men bid on which woman they want to serve them their drinks and their meals. The more they pay, the longer they get to keep the woman they've chosen at their side. Peggy is well aware of the line wrapping around the building. Men waiting to get in and have a woman serve them scotch while sitting in their laps.
She is the first woman to be bid and won that night. A man who smells of money gestures with one finger towards her and she shoves down the desire to kick him in the crotch as she walks forward. He has no shame about undressing her with his eyes, but thankfully touching costs extra.
He pays in large bills and she sits, listening to him talk and spew disgusting comments at her as she serves him food and drink for almost 2 hours. His hand touches her waist and she eyes him in amusement and he slips the equivalent of three hundred dollars into the space between her breasts.
"I'll be back for you tomorrow." He promises, getting up and walking out the door, his security following him.
Peggy returns to the dressing room to store her money and wash her hands and reapply perfume.
A few other women are there but they barely talk. She walks back out and is immediately bid on again.
This man is less disgusting, more reserved, but his gaze never leaves her body.
"Can I get you a drink?" She asks, knowing he's an American tourist.
"Yes," he says in a dry whisper, "I want a scotch, neat."
She can feel him watching her as she walks away to the bar.
"How does your night go?" Simon, the bartender and their personal security asks.
"It goes well." She says with a smile. She pulls out a few large bills and hands it to him. "For you."
He blinks at it, "no, I can not."
She furrows her brow and holds it out to him, "I insist."
He tilts his head, "why?"
"You're our guardian." She says coyly, "I appreciate that you're here to protect us."
He smiles and he takes the money. "No one has ever done this."
She figures as much. The women who work here probably enjoy or need the money they make. "Well," she says lightly, grabbing the scotch he'd made for her, "consider it the first of many. I want my back watched by someone I trust."
He nods and she has the feeling she's just earned his undying loyalty.
The club closes after her second man and she files to the dressing room with the other woman.
She finally learns some of their names. Iris, Julia, Desmonia, Kashka, Lourdes, Arelis.
"I'm Jackie." She says, introducing herself. Each girl is gorgeous and seems genuinely nice. Even though she'd 'outbid' them. There was plenty of business and it didn't seem like she would need to compete to earn her place for which she was thankful. "Any tips for the new girl?"
They give her some, some speaking in English, others in Spanish.
Don't leave the club before you're given the okay. Some men lie in wait
outside.
Never tell them your real name or address.
If a patron misbehaves, tell the manager immediately.
Your tips are yours.
All dresses, jewelry, and accessories must stay here overnight. Any theft is
grounds for immediate termination.
Wear the same perfume every night. The men like consistency.
She listens and keeps track. Not knowing how long she'll be required to be here. She makes sure she's kind and generous with the other girls and the staff to ensure she's solidified her place.
They take to her easily and she settles into a routine. She eats breakfast mostly at her apartment but eats lunch rotating between three different places. She doesn't even have to dip into her account. Her nightly wages earning her enough to cover everything but her rent which is already covered by Shield.
She keeps her wits about her, and her eyes open for Steve, but over a month passes without any sight of him or anyone she's there to meet. She does hear names in whispers that let her know she's in the right place, but so far she keeps her head down and does her job, and she does it well.
—-
She's getting dressed with the other ladies when the manager walks in. He smiles and walks through all of them. He makes a point to touch each of them possessively, whether he pats their cheek, or grabs their chin or brushes his lips against their hands, he 'claims' each of them, as Peggy refers to it.
"My ladies," he says with a grin, "we have a special guest coming in two nights."
They listen, turning their attention to him, "I have heard whispers of this man. He comes with a good reputation and very deep pockets, but is apparently incredibly difficult to please. We here at the Aphrodite want to ensure he is well-taken care of." His face grows serious. "Whoever is able to please him and ensure that he is a returning customer, will be given a bonus at the end of each night that he chooses them."
Each girl nods and Iris, one of the bolder women, leans against her vanity, fixing her lipstick, "do you have any details about what he likes?"
"I know that he is American, and you know how they are." The girls laugh and Peggy chuckles along with them, "and he works for some powerful people."
The intent is clear. He wants this man in his pocket.
Peggy wonders just who this man is.
—-
The club opens that night and she and the other women file out, going to their plush leather chairs where they sit and wait. The manager hands them blindfolds and Peggy looks at it dubiously. She looks up to see trepidation on each of their faces and knows this is not normal.
"Why?" Lourdes asks.
"This group of men are all coming from one company, and they have paid triple the entrance fee for this request to be met. It is the least we can do."
Aka. Do it or be removed.
Peggy slips the blindfold over her eyes, hating the sense she is restricted from.
She can hear the men as they enter and walk past. Low murmuring fills her ears and a finger trails under her chin. She tilts her head and she hears a snap. Simon's snap. She smiles gratefully in his direction and the finger disappears quickly.
She hears the bidding go on, and suddenly she's being led to a table, a hand guides her elbow and she walks down the steps. When she feels the blindfold being removed, she finds herself staring at a man whose skin is pale as snow, and his hair black as night. His eyes are such light blue that they look like ice and she resists the urge to shiver as his thin hand reaches out and brushes against her cheek.
"What language do you prefer, my dove?" She immediately pins the German accent and her adrenaline spikes. Hydra operatives are not always German, but it originated there and she knows it has powerful affiliates.
"English, sir." She says softly, casting her eyes down in submission, even though it makes her sick to do so.
"A weak language, but I suppose it must do. I hope that to be your only flaw."
She nods and waits, letting him lead.
"I want a whiskey and a beer. I want summer rolls to start and I want you on my lap when you return." He places a large wad of cash between her breasts, his fingers grazing across them and she nods, "yes, sir."
She stands, exiting the sunken booth and heading to the bar.
Simon eyes her sympathetically and she shakes her head for him not to worry. She's handled far worse than entitled disgusting scum.
She does not hesitate to sit on his lap, but she doesn't straddle him. She holds his cup and he sips from it and spews vile things. He makes it clear that he thinks she's the only acceptable woman there, and she hates the knowledge of what that implies. Her nails are sharp enough to rake across his face but she resists.
His hand trails higher and higher up her thigh under her dress and soon another wad of cash is underneath her underwear line on her hip. She does not grit her teeth as his fingers explore her skin. She allows it as he gets continually more drunk. On his third whiskey, she does the eyebrow raise to Simon who adds a shot to his glass. The drunker they are, the quicker they run out of money or talk more about what they usually try not to.
She's feeding him fresh fruits out of the palm of her hand when he leans forward and kisses her collarbone, leaving a red mark from the strawberry he is chewing.
She wants to snap his neck. She could. Easily. But she resists, his drunken nature allowing him to talk more freely.
When he mentions a name that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, she laughs girlishly and nuzzles into his neck.
Sitwell. He mentioned Sitwell.
"—lazy disgusting man." He's saying. "Sent on a job and disappeared with the money he was allotted. I tried to tell them. I knew he would be so traitorous. He had all the disgusting attributes of those who lack the finer qualities." Anyone not fitting his description of 'elite' apparently.
Which tells her that Hydra doesn't know Sitwell's been captured by Shield.
An excellent revelation on such a hideous night.
She 'hmms' and feeds him another grape. "You must be very important and wise to know such things." She says girlishly, her voice an octave higher than is natural. "You seem the type to be in charge."
Oh, he likes that kind of talk.
He starts talking, his hands grasping her waist almost painfully as he describes how important he is to everyone he knows. She listens and agrees and helps him drink more.
"My boss—" he starts, then he must have some sense because he doesn't say a name, much to Peggy's chagrin, "he's a real piece of work, but at least he understands the goal. Order. Getting rid of the excess."
She blinks owlishly at him, "and who is the excess, sir?"
He looks at her and his finger trails from her eyes to her chin, "anyone who would bring down the gene pool. Anyone not fit to breed." He smiles drunkenly at her and his fingers trails over to her chest and down to her stomach, where he rests his hand possessively, "you'd be a fine thing to breed with."
It takes everything in her to look grateful for his comment instead of violently ill, which is how she actually feels.
—-
He finally leaves, stumbling drunkenly with his other business associates and the dressing room is unusually quiet.
They've made more than double what they usually pull in one night, and yet none of them seem thrilled.
"Were all of your men as vile as mine?" Julia says with a wry chuckle, "because I wanted to knee mine in the area he would miss the most."
They break out into laughs and nervous chuckles as they each express how horrible their men were.
"Racist—"
"Misogynistic—"
"Sadistic—"
Were just a few terms she heard tossed around. And she agreed with them all.
"Well, let's hope they spent their allowance and can't come back for a while." Peggy says hopefully. The girls nod their heads and begin to get changed to go home.
The next day, Peggy takes extra care with her hair and skin. The big client her manager spoke of was due tonight and she could only hope it was the leader or someone important she needed to make a connection with.
She arrives early, looking at the new selection of dresses. It changes almost every night, and she's rarely seen a repeat. Only when a dress is popular with the clients does it reappear. Her green dress from her first night is a constant request. So it stays on the rack.
But tonight she chooses a white silk gown that has dusty blue lace appliqués and gold accents. It's an off the shoulder dress with sleeves that hang down to the ground, giving it an ethereal look. It's backless, with just thin silk straps criss-crossing and a deep 'V' in the front. Two slits run up each leg, up to her hips, and she goes barefoot again. She wears long dangling earrings that shimmer and puts on the bracelets and anklets that have sort of become her signature. Each wrapping upwards. She puts on a lace garter and paints her lips a deep red. She lets her hair fall in billowing curls, just pinning one side back a bit to frame her face. She gives her eyes definition with a classic cat eye and shimmering gold eyeshadow that make her colored contact lenses shine.
The other girls take their time getting ready tonight as well. They know making the manager happy is key to keeping the high paying job. So she knows they all hope to catch this man's eye. But no one speaks about it, they just go about carefully curating looks for maximum attention.
—
The girls are led out to their chairs, and thankfully not blindfolded.
A dozen men walk in and she can feel the tension in the room as they all try to guess who the big client is among them.
Except there's no guessing.
The thirteenth man walks in and Peggy feels her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him.
Steve saunters in, his eyes taking in everything, passing over the women without so much as half a glance while he's led to the most luxurious booth.
Peggy takes in his entire appearance. His hair is a deep golden brown, thick and styled well. Her eyes trail down to the portion of his exposed chest beneath the velvet suit jacket. He's shirtless, and the golden tan skin behind the dark red velvet is eye-catching. The slacks fit him tightly, revealing more than she thought she'd ever know about the man, and the cufflinks on his coat sparkle in the dim lighting.
She watches in disbelief as he sits, arms spread against the back of the booth's curved seat and exposing more chest and some of his stomach as the jacket sides split.
She can't even begin to accept that this is the same man she knows.
Except it is. She can see the barest hint of the shadows of the tiny scars.
He sits like he's almost bored and his eyes roam over the club.
The other men are suspiciously silent as all attention is drawn to his weighty presence.
The manager comes over and he looks almost excited and more nervous than Peggy has ever seen him.
"Do me proud, Señoras."
The bidding begins.
Each woman is won with an exorbitant amount of money tonight as Steve plays the game of upping the bid on each woman, showing his power and making the other men squirm. But the men are adamant about proving their manliness and outbid him until the price is so high that each woman is wide-eyed. But Steve always relents and lets the man win once the price has tripled, moving onto the next.
4 men are left when it's her turn to be bid on. He raises a lazy hand, upping the bid and she feels a thrill of disbelief as he continually ups his bid by almost double what the other men do. And soon no one else raises their hands and the manager eyes her with glee.
She's officially Steve's for the evening.
She steps over the soft carpet, her bare feet making no noise. She gets closer and closer, her heart beating rapidly. Again her legs are on full display through the slits and she lets her gown trail behind her. His eyes never leave her face as she approaches and when she gets to his booth, he stands and extends a hand to help her down the stairs into their booth.
She accepts, her cool hand in his warm and he makes sure she's sitting before he takes his own seat.
No client has even helped her down into the booth before and somehow it's incredibly endearing because she knows it's something Steve would do naturally, but also it's a power move over the other men.
Who she now notices are helping the other women who've they have just bid and won.
Hit sits beside her, and his eyes flick around the room.
"Would you like a drink, sir?" She asks softly, unsure how he's expecting her to behave.
His eyebrow raises and he leans towards her, the scent of his cologne is heady and makes her breathing elevate. "You're trying to leave me so soon?" He teases, "you've just arrived."
"My apologies, sir."
"My name is Jack." He says, almost annoyance on his amused face, "not sir. And yours?"
She wants to punch Fury in the face.
"I'm Jackie."
He laughs, loudly and for the whole club to hear, "well isn't that a coincidence."
She smiles and leans in, "or maybe it's meant to be?"
His eyes grow dark and he gives her a smirk, "I suppose we'll find out."
She leans back, eyeing him with amusement. She can feel almost all of the eyes on them in the dim club. "I should get you a drink, what will you have?"
He produces a one hundred dollar bill and slips it behind her ear, beneath the pin, "get me whatever you recommend."
The way his eyes follow her makes her chest heat, but she makes her way to the bar and Simon eyes her curiously.
"You will be okay with him?" He asks, genuinely concerned.
Peggy nods, looking back to see Steve relaxed and looking, if she was being honest, positively magnificent. Like a Greek god surveying his kingdom.
"I think I'll be okay." She says with a smile, "but feel free to keep an eye on me."
Simon chuckles and hands her his drink.
Eyes follow her back to the table and once again Steve stands and helps her down.
Before she sits she raises an eyebrow, "where would you like me to sit?"
"Anywhere you're comfortable."
She sits next to him, her body pressed against his. "What would you like from me this evening?" She asks softly, allowing her voice to be alluring. She knows each of these booths is mic'd.
He leans in close, slipping another large bill into the band around her forearm, "tell me about your first time."
He's asking if it's safe to transfer information.
"I never kiss and tell."
Not now. Too many eyes and ears hyper focused on them.
He leans back, an amused expression on his face. "And what does a man have to do to earn a kiss."
When will be safe?
She pretends to be coy, running her fingers through her curls and ensuring the scent of her perfume wafts towards him, "prove your worth it."
More time needed for everyone to relax around them.
She raises an eyebrow in challenge and he tilts his head, looking around the room at all the people pretending not to watch them, "as you wish."
—-
It's easy to slip into this character with Steve. Since she's fully trusting of him, she doesn't have to be aware or alert or disgusted by the way he might touch her. He does touch her, lightly, and she can tell every touch is calculated, but only because she knows him so well. The way his fingers brush against her cheek or hair or arms makes her feel like fire is being traced on her skin. But never more than that.
He orders the most expensive dishes, but then doesn't touch a thing, letting it grow cold on the table in front of them as he keeps his attention on her.
She knows it's an act.
They're both pretending for the mission.
But she'll not lie and say she doesn't enjoy every second of his intense attention.
"So," he says, leaning back and swirling his drink, the large circular ice cube clinking against the glass as he holds it between his thumb and forefinger. "What made you take this job?"
"You mean apart from meeting the most powerful men?" She says with an eyebrow raise, amusement and a bit of teasing in her tone.
"Of course." He jests back.
"I get to dress up and be pretty and get attention. What more could a woman ask for?"
The smirk that crosses her face quickens her pulse, "I'll have to remember those words. I'm sure I know some women who need to hear them."
Cheeky bastard. She laughs and leans forward, "any woman who says she doesn't like attention is a liar."
"Any man who denies a beautiful woman attention is a fool."
"Then we're in agreement."
"I'm honored to be more enticing than food," she says a bit breathily, gesturing towards the untouched dishes on the table.
"Were you ever in doubt?"
The way his voice is teasing and yet serious makes her lower stomach turn, pulse raising. He tilts his head at her as if she called his name, and a smile crosses his face.
"It's nice to be reminded." She responds.
As the conversation wears on, Peggy decides that she's feeling like he's a little too much in control of their situation and she wants to even the playing field. More for fun since they can't do their jobs right now anyways. So she shifts, her dress moving with her and the slit opening, allowing her full bare leg to appear. The golden shimmering band from her ankle that wraps around to her calf catches the light and draws Steve's eye. He looks up with a raised eyebrow, as if he senses the challenge. He reaches down, gently grasping her ankle and lifting it onto his lap. His fingers trace the skin near the band and she feels another large bill be placed there as his hand and fingers then trail up towards her knee.
He rests his palm on her leg, just above the knee cap. The warmth of his hand radiating upwards.
"What brings you to Spain?" She asks, bringing her other leg up to rest both on his lap.
The way his fingers ghost over the tops of her feet and up her shins makes her want to squirm in delight, but she resists. He's too damn good at this game. Which makes her wonder about his previous experience.
"I'm here on business. My company needs a merger completed. The company here is dragging its feet. I'm the guy they send when things get messy."
She gently shifts her legs until the pads of her feet are pressing against his inner thigh. "And you clean up the mess?"
The way his eyes glance down to her feet and back up to her eyes, his darkening and making her chest tight with anticipation. "Something like that." He responds, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.
"And what brings you here?" She whispers, her voice gaining a teasing and husky quality, "did the big man get lonely?" There's a long pause where Steve eyes her searchingly.
"This place was recommended to me by a colleague." He replies slowly. And he looks like he's about to say something when his eyes catch on movement and he looks up. Peggy looks up to see the manager walking back towards them looking upset.
"Hello," the manager says tightly, "Jackie, I'm afraid you have a phone call you must take."
Peggy feels confused, she's never had a phone call here once, but her manager's face says no arguments. So she stands, the instant loss of heat from not being next to Steve makes her shiver as she walks up the small stairs.
She's led to the dressing room where the manager's brother, Rickey, who almost never exits the security room, is waiting.
"What?" She asks, confused. She turns and sees the other manager didn't follow her.
"You insulted him!" He says fuming, "our biggest client ever, and you insulted him!"
She feels back, "what! I did not!"
"You called him lonely! Insulted him for being here!"
Oh. She winces, her teasing joke to Steve, trying to gain the upper hand in the show they were putting on for the rest of the club. "I didn't mean it that way—" she says, letting panic coat her tone, "he and I were teasing, I promise!"
"You better hope he doesn't walk out of here." The man snaps at her, "if he walks out then you're out of a job!"
Steve wouldn't, but she was still angry for putting herself on the radar and the chopping block. That had not been her goal. And she feels foolish for forgetting what this place really is. A place for weak, vile men to prove their manliness by lording their power through money.
"He won't." She promises, "let me go apologize."
"My brother is speaking with him. Let's see if he even wants you in his presence anymore. If we have to refund him your price it's coming from your paycheck!"
She had the 22k it had taken for Steve to win her. But she didn't want to take that amount from her Shield account.
"Just let me apologize."
She doesn't wait for an answer, turning and heading back to the main floor. She walks quickly, her quiet bare feet not making a noise. The other girls look at her curiously, but she heads straight to the booth where the manager is speaking rapidly and Steve looks very annoyed.
She doesn't wait. She steps down into the booth, surprising both men and kneels in front of Steve. "My apologies, sir." She says softly, her eyes down on the ground and head bowed. "I overstepped my bounds and misspoke. Please forgive me."
The manager is looking at her tightly, obviously angry. But she keeps her face pointed at the ground, her dress flows around her and she can't even imagine what a picture of submission she makes.
She's eternally glad that it's unlikely anyone but her and Steve will have the knowledge of this situation. Hill would tease her mercilessly.
"Another woman will be provided for you free of charge." She hears the manager say, "forgive us for this woman's tongue. She doesn't know her place."
But Steve clears his throat. "And what exactly is it that she said that was so offensive?" He sounds annoyed and exasperated.
"She implied—" the manager starts, surprised by his reaction, "she—"
Steve leans forward, his jacket shifting and she can see the smooth skin underneath, "she was teasing me, just as I was teasing her. And there's nothing wrong with being lonely if it leads me to meet such a delicate creature as this." His finger is under her chin, lifting it until her eyes are raised to meet his. "I'm more upset about the time you've now stolen from us." He looks up at the manager. "Did you hear me complain about her words or actions?"
The manager is flustered, and he speaks without thinking, "no but, we noticed you've not been satisfied with her or your food."
Peggy stiffens, what?
Steve must be confused too because his hand stills and he looks up, "unsatisfied?"
"You didn't eat anything. And you hardly touch her. We can provide you with a more satisfactory woman—"
Suddenly hands are on her waist and she's being lifted and turned, set in between his legs, his fingers gripping her tightly. She looks up, meeting the manager's stunned expression with her own.
Steve kisses the side of her neck and wraps his thick forearms around her waist, holding her tight against him before she hears his voice, "I'm not one to rush things." He says deeply, steel in his tone, "and I don't appreciate you listening in on our private conversation." He nuzzles his nose into her hair and then speaks again, "you think I'm unsatisfied, but the only thing I'm unsatisfied with is your assumption that my ego is so fragile that a comment from a silly woman would wound my pride." He moves his hands, shifting her dress, letting the fabric fall to the sides as her bare legs appear through the slits. He rests his hands high up, and the way he draws swirls with his middle fingers on both thighs makes her want to pleasantly squirm under his touch. But she stays still, the manager's eyes still taking in the whole scene. "I don't want to be disturbed again. Are we clear?" Steve reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, thousands of dollars, and tosses it in the manager's direction.
The manager bows his head slightly in acknowledgement and is gone.
The club is almost silent except for the slow jazz playing from the speakers.
His hands are still on her thighs and she can feel his velvet suit and bare chest pressed up against her bare back.
"Where were we?" He asks calmly.
"I was apologizing." She responds, her throat dry.
He reaches forward, his body pressing against hers as he grabs a vine of grapes. He picks one of the stems and pops it into his mouth. Then he picks another and places it to her lips. She accepts it, and when he finishes chewing he leans back, pulling her with him.
"I need no apologies from you. However, maybe I need to apologize to you."
She feels the fingers not holding the grapes dragging lightly up and down along her inner thigh. It's a heavenly feeling and she needs him to stop immediately. But she makes no move to get him to stop.
"Oh?" She asks breathily. "For what?"
"If I made you feel like you were not worthy of my touch. I simply like to take things slow. It in no way is indicative of how beautiful you are."
"You're too kind."
A few minutes of silence pass before he presses his face against her hair and says, "I need to go."
She turns slightly to look at him, "will I see you again?"
"I'll be back in two days. I want you in my booth again." She promises nothing. It's against the code of conduct to promise an evening to a patron without them winning the bid. But his voice shifts ever so slightly, "and maybe I can earn that kiss then."
Maybe they can trade information.
"I'd like to see you try."
She's letting him know there's a chance, and there's information she has to tell him.
"Wear something red for me."
He has information about Hydra.
He stands, tossing another large wad of cash onto the table. Then he kisses her hand and leaves, all eyes in the club following as he goes.
She collects the exorbitant amount of money he left and then walks towards the dressing room.
The manager is there and pacing, "what did he say? Is he coming back?"
Peggy nods, "yes, in two days. He wants me again, in red this time."
He looks at her in shock, "what? Two days?"
She nods, "yes, why?"
"The company from last night is returning! They wanted the whole club!
Peggy remembers the vile man and shakes her head, "what do you want to do?"
"I'll let them know I have just one patron joining them that night, they'll be fine." The manager tosses her a wad of cash. Her bonus for 'pleasing' Steve tonight. "He's too important to lose. We need him under our thumb. Do you understand?"
Peggy wants to blink in surprise, "why?"
"He's—" the manager starts, then his voice dies, "none of your concern. Just keep him wrapped around your finger. I need you to be Delilah. ¿Tu Sabes?"
She has no idea why Steve is Samson in this scenario. Something about this 'merger' she would assume.
"I understand." She responds, eyeing him warily as he stalks out of the room.
Peggy does not believe that Steve chose that date by coincidence. He must know the men who are coming or know of them.
And she needs to be ready.
—-