Taken By The Hitman by Amber Adams
Chapter 6: Bianca
I lean back on the park bench, my eyes closed, and let my face bask in the sun. It is peaceful here in this little park tucked away amongst the hubbub of the city, and I find myself coming here often just to get away.
After a day like today, I need it.
Today has been very difficult for me to focus. It’s not like me to not delve into my work the moment I step into the office, but today ever since I woke, I feel restless.
I hate days like this.
I confess I’m a workaholic, and every hour I spend away from the office, the guilt starts to pile up that I’m potentially letting money walk out the door. Now I know I can easily rectify it with a few phone calls, but still, I need to feel accomplished.
Sitting on this park bench, staring off into space isn’t accomplishment.
Maybe I need a vacation, a chance to recharge myself. Deja has been forever harping on me about taking some time off and just enjoying life. Now that she is unattached, it will be easier to get her to get away for a little while.
My stomach growls loudly and I reach for the sandwich that’s tucked into my bag, finding my phone instead. There’s a dozen missed calls already and I sigh, knowing I should get back to the office. Any one of those could be funds, but more than likely a string of rejections at the meetings I’ve been asking to set up.
There’s an icon on the app for that dating site, Opulent Introductions, and I pause, my mind scrambling for a moment trying to remember what the icon is for.
While Deja and I had the best time creating a profile for me with some headshots she had taken in her apartment, I hadn’t done much in terms of scrolling through the potential dates, figuring I would be deleting it anyway.
Has someone come across my profile instead?
Despite the fact that I’m not into the whole internet dating thing, my pulse does speed up a notch. It’s not going to hurt to look, right?
You’re such an idiot, I tell myself as I open the app and find the icon that is flashing. A chat box pops up and there’s a one-line sentence that causes me to laugh aloud.
Are the color of your eyes real?
Seriously? Is that what dating and flirtation has come down to? Maybe I have been out of the game far too long for that to be a pickup line.
I click on the profile next to the box and find my lips parting at the sight of a dark-haired man staring back at me, his blue eyes seemingly boring into my very soul.
He’s not smiling, but I find the subtle clench of his jaw way more interesting. There’s the hint of a tattoo peeking out of the open collar of his shirt and his hands are tucked into his trouser pockets, as if the camera caught him lounging.
He looks…well, he looks dangerous. The “I’m hot as hell and no one measures up” dangerous sort.
The total picture I see has robbed me of my breath.
“Good lord,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair.
“It’s just a pic, Bianca,” I tell myself.
I shouldn’t respond. I’m not looking for anyone, and if I am, it wouldn’t be this walking sexy danger on a stick.
Still, he’s reached out to me, which makes me wonder what he saw that piqued his interest.
I am so going to disown my best friend for this!
Clicking out of his profile, I bite my lip as I stare again at the words. I can do two things. I can delete this conversation and pretend it never happened, or I could respond just to see what his next move is.
Am I really thinking about a next move? Snorting, I shake my head. There’s no way this guy is interested in me. It’s probably a fake profile pic and I’m really talking to some sixty-year-old balding guy looking for his next trophy wife.
Besides, it’s not like I’m going to meet him, whoever he is.
Yes, I type out before I can change my mind. I’m not into black-market eye transplants.
It’s not too serious and I’ve answered his question and it matches in lameness to his.
I’m sure that Deja would be gasping in horror that it was my choice of an answer but, whatever.
The little dots show up immediately and I realize that he’s online. Oh god, he’s online and writing me back! My anxiety ratchets up to one hundred and I briefly debate deleting the app right then and there.
The words appear before I can do anything and I laugh aloud again.
Good thing. It’s a bitch to have done.
Okay, so he has a sense of humor. I try not to get too excited as I fire a response back, finding it way easier this time around.
Me: So those aren’t your eyes then?
Him: There’s only one way to find out. Drink?
I clam up at his casual remark.
A drink with a complete stranger. Strike that, a very hot, very sexy, humorous complete stranger. My brother would be throwing my phone into the nearby lake if he knew what I am considering.
Just because I hide my family’s name doesn’t mean there aren’t ways for people to find me. We are lucky that my father was always able to keep us safe our whole lives without any bad incident really. But I’ve heard many stories about other mafias and how their families and loved ones are used against them.
Deja, on the other hand, would have fired out a yes and already be planning her outfit in my shoes.
The question is, do I dare do something so reckless?
I type back my response and fling my phone in my bag, grabbing it up a second later. Yes, yes, I am going to do something reckless for once.
I’m going on a blind date.
