Chapter 20: The Scent of Chocolate
Agatha wiped the misted surface of the mirror with her palm. Her face looked flushed. She let out a harsh breath, trying to banish the image of Xavier's lips touching her inner thigh earlier.
"Forget it, Agatha. He is indeed a pervert," she muttered to her own reflection.
She turned off the shower faucet and grabbed a thick towel. The problem arose when she looked at the floor. Her knitted dress lay pitifully with dried red mud stains. It was impossible to wear that again after a clean shower.
Agatha opened the storage cabinet under the sink. Empty. She switched to the glass cabinet on the wall. Its contents were only rows of men's grooming products, expensive razors, and stacks of spare towels.
No women's facial cleanser. No satin bathrobes.
"At least Mommy was telling the truth about him never bringing women here," Agatha thought.
Her eyes landed on a shelf containing stacks of neatly folded plain t-shirts. Most were black and navy blue. Agatha pulled one black t-shirt from the top. Without thinking twice, she put it on.
The material felt cool and soft, but the size was ridiculous on her petite frame. The neckline slid down, displaying one side of her shoulder and collarbone clearly. The worst part was the length. The shirt only hung down to the top of her thighs. It was barely enough.
Agatha pulled the hem of the t-shirt down with all her might.
"Whatever. Better than going out naked," she decided.
Agatha opened the bathroom door slowly. The penthouse was dead silent. There were no servants. There was only the sound of a spoon stirring against a pot coming from the kitchen. The aroma of chocolate was strong.
Agatha followed the scent.
In the kitchen, Xavier stood in front of the induction stove. His suit jacket and tie were gone. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up haphazardly to his elbows. He was stirring a small pot with a serious face.
Agatha leaned against the marble pillar, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You can cook?" Agatha asked suddenly.
Xavier's hand movement stopped. He did not turn around.
"Just the basics," Xavier answered calmly.
"I thought someone like you only knew how to hold a gun or kill people," commented Agatha.
"My mother forced me to learn this recipe. She said it was so I could seduce my wife later."
Xavier turned off the stove, then poured the thick liquid into one cup, while his own cup contained steaming black coffee. He turned around carrying the cups. That was when his eyes landed on Agatha.
Xavier's steps stopped completely. The cup in his hand almost tilted.
His eyes swept over Agatha's appearance from top to bottom. Wet hair, exposed shoulder, and long legs fully exposed because the shirt stopped right at the top of her thighs. Xavier's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Stop staring at me like that, you pervert!" protested Agatha uncomfortably. She pulled the hem of her t-shirt again. "My clothes are dirty. This is the only thing in the closet."
Xavier cleared his throat loudly, forcing his eyes back to Agatha's face. He walked closer and placed the cups on the bar table.
"I am not protesting," Xavier's voice sounded husky. "It is just... do you realize that your appearance is dangerous?"
"Dangerous how?"
"The length. If you bend over even a little, I can see everything. And I am not sure my faith is that strong tonight."
"Pervert."
Agatha hurriedly climbed onto the high bar stool, trying to hide her legs behind the table. She took the cup of chocolate to distract herself.
"Good?" asked Xavier. He stood across the table, staring at Agatha intently.
Agatha sipped it a little.
"Not bad. There is a bit of a spicy taste."
"Chili powder. Good for warming the body."
Xavier did not drink his coffee. He only watched Agatha blowing the steam from her cup.
"Your hair is wet," commented Xavier.
"It will dry by itself."
"Later you will get sick. And if you get sick, you will become a cranky wife. I do not want that."
Agatha rolled her eyes.
Xavier went to the bathroom for a moment, then returned carrying a black hair dryer. He plugged it in near the bar table.
"Turn the chair," ordered Xavier.
"I can do it myself, Xav."
"Just drink your chocolate, Agatha. Let me do the work."
Agatha snorted but obeyed. She turned her bar stool away from Xavier.
The sound of the dryer turned on. Agatha felt warm air hitting her scalp. Xavier's large fingers slipped between her hair strands, combing and massaging gently. His movements were meticulous, not rough as a mafia boss should be.
Agatha closed her eyes. The sensation was too comfortable. She was used to living on guard, but at this moment, with Xavier's hands in her hair, she felt safe.
Five minutes later, the machine died. The atmosphere returned to silence.
"It is dry," said Xavier softly.
Agatha turned the chair facing Xavier again. The distance between them became very close.
"Thank you," said Agatha stiffly.
Xavier placed the dryer on the table. His face turned serious. His relaxed mode disappeared, replaced by business mode.
"Tomorrow at two in the morning, clear your schedule," said Xavier suddenly.
Agatha raised one eyebrow. "Why? Want to order me to be a food courier again?"
"More than that. I have a big shipment at the Port of Le Havre. I want you to come along."
Agatha snorted softly. "Shipment? Do not tell me you want to invite me to sell drugs. I refuse."
Xavier laughed dismissively. He rested both hands on the sides of Agatha's chair, trapping the woman.
"You think I am that low? Drugs are a business for stupid people who have no brains, Agatha."
"Good then," replied Agatha quickly. "During the six months I spied on you before you trapped me into marriage, I already memorized your portfolio. You are anti-dirty goods that destroy nerves. You only like playing with rich people."
Agatha started counting with her fingers.
"Stolen paintings from museums. Illegal military technology for war. And buying and selling state intelligence data. Those are the three pillars of your business, right?"
Xavier fell silent for a moment. The smile on his lips grew wider. He looked satisfied.
"Your research is good too. No wonder you are nicknamed the most expensive and most wanted assassin."
Agatha crossed her arms over her chest. "Correct, right?"
"Correct. But usually, those three goods come separately. Tonight is special. I am bringing all three in one ship. We call it The Triad."
Agatha's eyes widened slightly. "Three shipments? Art, Weapons, and Data? All at once?"
"Yes."
"You are greedy," commented Agatha sharply. "Handling three different types of buyers in one location is suicide. Art collectors, war generals, and corrupt politicians in one place? That is a recipe for disaster."
"That is why I need my wife," whispered Xavier right in front of Agatha's face. "You know the terrain. You know the types of people. I need someone to watch my back in case one of them intends to play dirty."
Agatha fell silent. The offer was tempting for her assassin side that missed action. But she remembered her goal.
"Wait a minute," said Agatha. "Do not try to add new work before paying off old debts, Mr. Valois."
Xavier raised an eyebrow. "What debt?"
"First," Agatha held up one finger. "You still owe fifty thousand dollars for the lunch delivery service the other day. The food has entered your stomach, but the money has not entered my wallet."
Xavier chuckled. "You call that passion poison food? I almost died in the meeting room."
"That is consumer risk," replied Agatha not wanting to lose. "Second, you have not handed over the photo of the woman who left me at the orphanage. You promised to give it if I delivered the food."
"Fair enough," Xavier nodded.
"And third," Agatha stared sharply. "Our initial marriage agreement. You said, every time I play the role of a wife well, you will give me one piece of information about my biological parents."
Agatha leaned forward, challenging Xavier's dominance.
"Accompanying you to an illegal transaction at the port at two in the morning clearly counts as the role of a Good Wife, right?"
Xavier smirked widely. His eyes glinted with pride. He liked it when Agatha started negotiating using her brain.
"Smart," praised Xavier.
He leaned his body, bringing his face closer. Their faces were only one centimeter apart.
"Alright. Let's make a new deal. Come with me tonight. Ensure the transaction runs smoothly and no bullets penetrate my head."
"If successful," continued Xavier, "tomorrow morning I will give everything. Fifty thousand dollars, the photo at the orphanage, and a map containing the last location your biological family was seen before disappearing."
Agatha's breath hitched slightly hearing the last part. The location of her biological father. That was a big clue.
"And..." added Agatha quickly. "I want the prototype pistol from that military container. Just in case."
Xavier laughed crisply while ruffling the top of Agatha's head affectionately.
"Greedy. Deal. Pistol, money, photo, and your family info."
Xavier glanced at the wall clock, then stared at the oversized t-shirt Agatha was wearing.
"Now sleep. We leave in three hours. Wear clothes comfortable for running, do not wear a dress. And wear long pants. I do not want your legs seen by those old bastards tonight."
Agatha smiled crookedly, the fire of spirit lit up in her eyes.
"Just prepare that map, Xavier. Because I will never fail."