Someone messaged me and reminded me that I had completely abandoned this.
I was watching Mission Impossible I think, the one with Thandiwe Newton. I've rewritten this with slight changes.
x.x.x
1.
Niklaus Mikaelson presses her back against the wall. He blocks her in with his left arm positioned right next to her head and trails a finger down the side of her neck with his right hand, over her clavicle, down until it rest at the dip of her dress, resting comfortably at the skin between her breast. Dark blue eyes capture hers and his smirk is so cheeky. "You are impressive."
She smacks his hand away roughly. "Don't get familiar."
He only smiles and he presses in closer, sliding the fingers she just slapped away up her leg. A slow, soft of his fingertips scorching a path up her bare skin, exposed by the daring slit in her dress She wishes then, that she had control over the gooseflesh, of the subsequent smug smile on his face. He gets cocky, replaces his fingertips with the warm palm of his hand, dragging it up the rest of the way. When he reaches the part of her thigh where the fabric of her dress joins again, his hand bunches in the fabric. He stops when his hand meets black lace.
"Are you looking for something?" She asks him, dark eyebrow arching to meet her bang. The grin he gives her is full of sin.
Bonnie Bennett has a long list of skills she is proud of. She is meticulous with her planning. She took her time when she was preparing for a job. Conducted hours upon hours of research, studded her mark harder than the classes she dropped out of at Whitmore college. She poured over that research, studied blueprints and habits until she knew them like the back of her hand. And in the months leading to this very moment she had thought Niklaus Mikaelson too cocky a man to think anything of her.
She slid into his camp as one of the many women enamored with him and his money. She hadn't anticipated that the flirting and soft touches would result in anything other than a flitting interest in her. She blames herself for not thinking highly enough of herself in that regard. Though she had prepared herself to sleep with him. If it got that far. For what it was worth, he was handsome.
Though it seems she had mistakenly pegged Klaus as too proud in himself and the fear he evoked to think that anyone would dare to try to do anything-let alone steal from him. And in that, she thought that he and his team would be lax.
She had slid into his camp as one of the many women enamored with him and his money. She hadn't anticipated that the flirting and soft touches would result in anything other than a flitting interest in her. She blames herself for not thinking highly enough of herself in that regard. She had mistakenly pegged Niklaus as too proud in himself and the fear he evoked to think that anyone would dare to try to do anything-let alone steal from him. And in that, she thought that meant he and his team would be lax.
She was usually quick on her feet. But it seems that Niklaus Mikaelson was an enigma, a blind spot on her radar. Which could definitely explain why he was currently pressing her into the wall beside his safe, propositioning her instead of dragging her by her scalp or ordering his beefy men to skin her alive.
The precious jewels she had managed to wrap her manicured fingers around, the rich heavy chain with the two wolf heads chomping down on a jewel encrusted ring in the center-some priceless heirloom with deep rooted Nordic history that she cared nothing about but her employer had desperately wanted-no needed and had been willing to pay her handsomely to retrieve, rest on the desk where he had placed it when he'd caught her red handed. She wondered if he would kill her.
Though she doubted most of the intel she had spent her time gathering, she knew without a doubt that was very possible. She knew well enough that she had walked directly into the wolves den.
But she had never planned for getting caught. Had never had to and it had obviously been to her detriment.
"You play a fool's game and for the wrong side." He whispers into her ear and her entire body grows so still, so tense that she almost hopes he'll mistake her for dead right there. The hand waiting at her hip is forgotten but then his fingers twist into the fabric of her panties and he pulls them tight against her skin. She imagines he is capable, in one fell swoop, of stripping her of them. Before he can make another move she remembers herself, ignores what he might be alluding to knowing and thinks:
1) That he's been in here for a minute at least and not a single one of his bodyguards has come into the room after him.
2) She can still hear the music downstairs, the cacophony of chatter from the party happening just a floor beneath their feet.
She presses the edge of her blade into the skin beneath his jaw and smiles.
Maybe she shouldn't berate herself just yet. She can still be quick when she needs to be.
"Mind your hands, Mr. Mikaelson." He drops his hands from her body, lifting them with his palms toward her in surrender. She presses the knife hard enough he can feel it but not hard enough to break the skin, forcing him back until the back of his leg hits the edge of his desk behind him.
"Me?" He asks incredulously. "You tried to steal from me, love." She can tell from the dashing smile on his lips that he isn't really afraid she'll hurt him. That if anything he is thoroughly amused by this display. He wraps his hand around her wrist and pulls her forward. She tries and fails to jerk away when his hold becomes tight enough she fears it might bruise. She winces trying again to snatch her wrist away when he finally releases it. She knows that the odds are not in her favor.
Her mind immediately flies into survival mode. She can't kill him. Not that she morally couldn't. She knew that if she did manage to kill Mr. Mikaelson and by some wave of luck outsmarted his men and slipped off of his property, that his family, the dangerous and notorious Mikaelson family would not rest until she was dead. Until every single person she had ever even vaguely smiled at would be dead too.
She only had one card to play.
"I'll tell you who hired me." She said.
"Now, where's the honor in that, love?"
"There's no honor among thieves." She repeats the old adage. "I can give you a name if you let me leave here. Alive."
He smiled at that, a baring of his teeth, so not unlike a wolf. "Look at you. Bargaining." He says on a chuckle. "I don't want a name. I know the Salvatore's hired you."
She stares back at him as fear sinks down deep within her. This job might be her undoing. The very end of her. The silence between them mounts as he watches her, waiting to see how she'll try to get herself out of that one.
She clears her throat to ask, "Are you going to kill me?"
"No." He says back quickly.
Confusion colors her expression and she stares back at him. "Well, what do you want?"
"To hire you, of course."
And well. Of all the things she could have anticipated. That certainly was not it.