The Interrogator's Game (Closed for CasaSuperNova)

SpicySpirit

Sexual Artisan
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Her mind was clouded as she slowly regained consciousness. The last thing Scarlett remembered was walking into the lavish bathroom at the Palais Garnier. She was so focused on her target that she hadn’t noticed the figure lurking in the corner.

As her eyes started to focus, she found herself in a cold, barren concrete room with a single light. Some strands of her dark hair had fallen from her stylish updo into her face, but when she tried to bring her hand up to move them, she realized she was restrained. Handcuffed to a chair. Fantastic… she thought.

Prior to her current predicament, Scarlett had been mingling amongst the European elite and preparing to charm one of the most wealthy men in the AI business, Jerome Moreau. She had come to Paris to assist Oliver with a mission since their client was growing impatient. Despite having been undercover as an employee of L’Oeil de L’Avenir for the past six months, Oliver still hadn’t delivered the intel they needed. His undercover persona, Henry Roberts, had however charmed Jerome. He was promoted quickly in the company earning his trust as a friend. In his social outings with Jerome, Oliver had noticed that he loved his ladies and kept a few escorts on retainer to be at his beck and call. This was where Scarlett had entered the plan.

At tonight’s charity gala, “Henry” was introducing Scarlett to Jerome to plant the seed for their next steps. Just before blacking out in the bathroom, Scarlett had been making great headway with the handsome entrepreneur, flirting with him in his native tongue. Things had been going according to plan and she wasn’t sure where… or who… the leak was.

Scarlett had escorted Oliver to the gala as his “date” for the evening. She had attracted the appropriate amount of attention in her stunning garnet silk gown that clung to her curvy and athletic frame. It had a low cut neckline that showed enough cleavage for admiration, but still could be viewed as classy amongst the other ladies in the room. The long skirt of the gown had a slit down the side where she kept a small hand gun in her garter out of view.

Mere hours ago, “Genevieve Beaumarchais” (her alias) had locked eyes with Jerome for the first time. His dark eyes took her in and she could tell she already had one foot in the door. Scarlett had to admit seducing Jerome was a bonus on this mission, as he was a striking specimen. Skin the color of a mocha latte, with eyes that pooled like melted dark chocolate. Even in his elegant tux, she could tell he was athletic. His sensual, velvety French accent was icing on the cake. Scarlett’s mother was French and she had spent time in France as a child, so her fluency came in handy on international missions. One of the other reasons she had been sent to assist Oliver. His French had been good enough to get him in the inner circle, but she had some advantages he didn’t.

Oliver… Women do take a long time in the restroom, but she wondered how long it would be before he discovered she was missing. Jerome had just invited her and Oliver up to a private room restricted to his inner circle. “Genevieve” had gone to “freshen up” and said she would meet them shortly. Oliver was supposed to circle back and meet her outside the women’s restroom before they went upstairs.

Which brought her thoughts back to the present and trying to rack her brain for who would know her real identity and be trying to interfere with the mission. The single light above her was encased by shadows. Suddenly, she heard an ever so muffled step from the darkest corner of the room. Her training made her want to reach for the hand gun at her thigh, but she realized quickly that her skin felt naked where the gun’s weight normally settled. Besides, her hands were still bound anyway so it wouldn’t have helped.

“I don’t have all day, so you might as well show yourself…,” she directed to the figure in the dark corner. I’ve been in worse situations, she thought to herself, but little did she know how unprepared she actually was for him...
 
The figure in the dark corner stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking softly against the concrete floor.

The dim light revealed a man in a tailored black suit, his face partially obscured by a sleek, featureless mask that glinted faintly. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, exuding a quiet menace. He stopped a few feet from Scarlett, tilting his head as if appraising her.

“Scarlett,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a faint accent she couldn’t quite place. “Or should I say, Genevieve? You’ve been playing a dangerous game, haven’t you?” He crouched down to her eye level, close enough that she could see the cold glint in his eyes through the mask’s slits.

“Jerome is a charming man, but he’s not the prize here. You’re after something far more… valuable.”He reached into his jacket and pulled out her small handgun, twirling it casually between his fingers before setting it on the floor just out of her reach. “This won’t help you now,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “I know who you are, Scarlett. I know why you’re here. And I know about Oliver’s little charade as Henry Roberts.

Impressive work, really. But you’ve underestimated the stakes.”He stood, pacing slowly in a circle around her chair, his hands clasped behind his back. “Here’s the deal,” he continued, his voice steady but laced with menace.

“You have something I want—information. The client you and Oliver work for? They’re not the only ones interested in L’Oeil de L’Avenir’s secrets. Tell me what you’ve uncovered about Jerome’s latest project, and I might let you walk out of here. Refuse…” He paused, leaning in close behind her, his breath brushing her ear. “And I’ll make sure Oliver finds you in pieces.”He straightened, stepping back into the shadows, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “So, Scarlett, what’s it going to be? Talk… or test my patience?”
 
Scarlett's eyes followed him as he retreated to the shadows of the room. The clicking of his heels echoing across the empty space. The masked man's low voice and breath had sent chills down her spine. Though she would never have admitted it.

"Well, fuck. This put a wrench in the evening's plans," she thought. Scarlett glanced longingly at the handgun he had placed a few feet away from her feet. Twisting her wrists in the metal handcuffs, she remained silent for a few moments as she weighed her options. Despite the cold concrete and emptiness, the room felt heavy with tension as the silence permeated the space for what felt like eternity.

"Well, your timing could have been better, mon ami," she challenged. "You're not going to get very much out of me since your little stunt interrupted my progress with Jerome." She paused, calculating. "Or maybe that was your plan all along."

She waited glaring at the dark corner of the room, seeing if he would respond, but he remained silent and still.

"If you know so much as you claim to know, you should know the whole reason I was brought here was to assist in moving things along." Scarlett took the moment to cross one of her legs over the other as punctuation on the end of the sentence. "Well at least my legs are free... for now," she thought as she quickly assessed any alternatives she might have.

She heard a slight shift in his posture even though he was cloaked in darkness.

"You are wasting your time... and mine." Scarlett trailed off, clicking her tongue and closing her eyes impatiently.
 
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