"I don't need a babysitter." Mitch snarled at Stan Hurley as the pair walked down the long hallway.

"If anyone needs a babysitter, it's you." Stan chuckled at his least favourite trainee's expense.

Stan and Mitch had always had this odd relationship. It was apparent to everyone that neither of them liked the other, but were forced, in their line of work, to coincide with one another. Mitch was forced to take orders from a man that was old, and in his opinion, worn out. There wasn't much he could say on the matter, though. Stan was who he reported to and going over his head would come with more consequences than rewards. But, sometimes he thought it might just be worth it. Like right now for example. Mitch rolled his eyes, frustration filling his expression.

"I'm perfectly capable of doing things on my own." Mitch snapped. The old spy stopped in his tracks, a stern look on his tired face.

"You're a hothead, who's easily irritated, mildly irresponsible, and to top it all off you're a trained killer. You need someone to keep you grounded during your missions. A partner will do you some good."

"I work alone." The young assassin said through gritted teeth.

"Not anymore." Hurley smiled.

"Or are you scared that this young buck here can show you up? So you want someone to bring me down in hopes that I won't outshine you and all that you did in the 'glory days'?" Mitch's words were laced with venom, but he looked almost relaxed.

"No what it is, is that the Bureau was tired of covering up your sorry ass mistakes and needed someone to hold your hand so you don't cost them more money." Stan quickly snapped back, not backing down.

Mitch's hands were clenched tightly into fists by his side as he contemplated how much trouble punching his direct superior in the face would cost him. Stan, too, stood with his arms folded. His hard expression did little to intimidate the hard-headed man in front of him, but he kept it anyway.

The two were a stinging pain in Irene Kennedy's side. She checked her watch frequently as the minute hand finally landed on the 5, solidifying the tardiness of both of the best and most annoying assassins she'd ever dealt with.

"Excuse me." She smiled politely at (Y/N), pushing back from the table where they both were waiting. "I'm going to find your new partner."

(Y/N) nodded, but Irene could've sworn she saw the girl smirk. Too preoccupied with what could be holding up Stan and Mitch, she disregarded the thought. She pulled open the heavy oak door leading to the hallway, the tension overwhelming her as she stepped into the corridor. Less than three feet from the door stood the very two people she'd been twiddling her thumbs waiting for. She'd hoped they would have a *** good excuse as to why they were late, but as she watched the men have their little pissing contest she decided she didn't want one.

"Stan!" Kennedy boomed, causing Rapp to wield his head towards her. "Mitch. What the hell are you two doing?! You know we had a meeting almost ten minutes ago and you're making heart eyes at each other in the hall?"

Rapp looked back at Stan who had a victorious smile on his face. Irene looked from one stubborn assassin to the other, flabbergasted that not even her presence was making them move.

"Oh, sorry Irene." Stan said sounding almost genuine. "I was just advising Rapp here on his new partner."

Mitch scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over one another. Irene thought the two could be related by how similar they looked right now.

"A partner is good for everyone, Mitch, it's like an assigned best friend."

"Or a mom." He muttered.

"Listen here you little shit." Stan spat. "You are to take this assassin under your wing. You are to include them in everything. You will not ever leave them so you can do things 'on your own'. Do I make myself clear?"

Mitch clenched his jaw tightly, Hurley didn't try to assert his authority often (mostly because he was knew Mitch wouldn't even follow it) but he always did it around Kennedy. Hurley knew that Mitch would never lie to her nor would he bare it if he let her down. So, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to punch the old assassin in the face, Mitch simply agreed to his supervisor.

"Yes, sir."

Irene gave them both one good once over before turning and proceeding back to the door in which she came. The two spies followed suit, glaring intimidatingly at each other until they both entered the sleek conference room. Mitch didn't take his glare off of Stan until Irene's voice broke through the room.

"This is your new partner, (Y/N)." She announced, finally catching his attention.

When his eyes met hers, his mouth instantly fell open. He meant to say hello, introduce himself but he wasn't expecting her. He had just assume his new partner would be a guy. Never did he think it would be this gorgeous and absolutely breath-taking girl in front of him.

"Right, so I thought I'd catch you up to speed with the assignment." Stan boomed, pulling a file seemingly out of nowhere and laying it on the table in front of (Y/N). Mitch completely tuned out Stan and watched as she looked over the file and occasionally looked up at the older assassin.

"We're pretty sure he's hiding it at the storage facility his family owns-"

"Not likely." (Y/N) interrupted and everyone's eyes landed on her.

"Excuse me?" Stan questioned, his tone a bit abrasive. "We've done extensive intel-"

"Apparently not enough." She quipped, closing the file and slouching back in her seat. "Maybe if you'd done the proper amount of research, or had eyes, you'd know that they sold that storage facility a year ago."

Hurley was rendered speechless at her words while Irene just smirked, placing her hands on her hips. The old man collected the file before clearing his throat.

"Well looks like you don't need anymore updating. Do you have anything to add?" He asked, looking at Irene and Rapp. When neither of them answered, he brushed past Irene, stopping beside Mitch.

"Remember what I said, Rapp." He growled, low enough for only him and the younger man to hear. Although, (Y/N) picked up on it.

"Yes, sir." Mitch answered, before Stan exited the room.

"Good work." Kennedy whispered, exiting the room after him.

Mitch watched the two as they left, knowing all too well that she was going to have to calm the older assassin down after just being shown up by one help of a girl.

"Do you always call him sir?" (Y/N) asked suddenly, her posture unchanged and her gaze focused on the dirt underneath her fingernails.

"Um, yeah." Mitch replied, a little confused by her question. "He's my superior so-"

She only snickered in response as she continued to pick at her nails. The boy frowned, rounding the table so he could get a better look at her.

"What?"

"Sounds to me like you're someone's little bitch."

Mitch had never been so taken aback in his life. He stared at the girl in shock, the look slowly turning into a glare as her words set in. He couldn't believe this girl had the lady balls to say that to him. But, before Rapp could come with a witty quip, she spoke again.

"Do you own a tux?" She asked, finally looking at him.

(Y/N) was instantly captivated by the assassin. He was giving her a look that was meant to be intimidating, but only made her panties a little wetter. She smirked at him, knowing the action would merely frustrate him more and she's decided that she liked seeing the little veins in his neck pop out when he was flustered.

"What?" His eyebrows screwed together in confusion.

"A tuxedo, do you have one?" She repeated to him as if he were a small child.

"Why the fuck are you asking?"

"Because our new target is having a Gala this weekend, and we're on the guest list." She answered, pulling a letter from her back pocket and handing it to Mitch. (Y/N) watched as the man took the envelope from her, his long dexterous fingers curling around the thick paper grazing her own before taking them and the letter with it. He opened it, reading it over carefully.

"How the hell did you-"

"Did you think that I was just a pretty face- Rapp was it? Irene mentioned a few days ago that we were chasing this fucker so I used my contacts to get put on the guest list." She stated simply, like what she had done wasn't just a huge fucking deal.

Rapp, in any other situation, would have given the girl props. It would've been a pain to try to sneak into this Gala and this mystery girl somehow happened to practically be invited to the guys house to kill him. She was impressive, but he'd never admit that to her.

"Yeah, I think I have a tux somewhere." Mitch said distractedly reading the last of the letter before it was plucked from his hands by (Y/N) who he hadn't notice get up from her chair.

"Yes, ma'am." She corrected him teasingly as her and the letter walked past him and out the door.

Mitch groaned looking at the closed door, his blood steadily boiling. He didn't like that girl, not one bit. She might be hot, but there was no way he was going to let that get in the way of the mission. She was already getting on his nerves and they hadn't even worked together yet. Mitch could see this being the beginning of a bad thing and, at this point, with a body like hers, he kind of hoped it was.

~

"Irene, I can't take it anymore." Mitch groaned, rubbing his face in pure frustration as he spoke into the communication system on his watch. "She's been getting ready for over an hour now!"

"Have patience, Mitch. You're going to a Gala, you need to look the part." His instructor reassured, but it didn't make him feel any less annoyed.

"Then, why is it that I started getting ready after her and still managed to finish before she even did her makeup?"

Suddenly, the phone was torn away from Irene and replacing her sweet and assertive voice was the hard and angry one belonging to, none other than, Stan himself. "Listen here you little shit. Wait for her patiently and if I hear another fucking complaint come out of your mouth one more time, I will get on a plane to personally go to Rome and fucking cut your balls off! Be a man and stick around until your woman is finished."

Mitch rolled his eyes at the has-been assassin. He hated having to listen to him and he simply wanted to tell Stan to fuck off, but he knew that would create unnecessary problems. And in the world of being a secret weapon for the american government, starting problems is something you always want to avoid.

The young man looked around the hotel room he and his partner shared for the mission and spotted her through the small creak in the door, completely focused on finishing her makeup. It was the perfect opportunity to acknowledge Hurley without her noticing.

"Yes, sir." Mitch whispered, his eyes rolling at the commands he was given.

Rapp turned off the call and thought he finally got away with it — when a sudden laugh boomed from the bathroom. He looked up, anger already taking over his features, and (Y/N) was laughing loudly at the top of her lungs. So much so, she held her stomach with her hand as her body shook. She only calmed down a bit when her gut actually started to hurt.

With furious steps, a fuming Mitch approached her. She didn't even seem bothered by his rage in the slightest. (Y/N) simply moved her hand to her eyes and wiped away the tears she had shed from laughing too hard. She was merely snickering at this point, Mitch getting so close to her he was only inches away.

That's when she finally stopped and noticed his entire attire, and boy did he look fucking good. He was wearing a tux so perfectly fit, his muscles showed through the fabric. A bowtie wrapped around his neck and it matched him beautifully. His shirt was white and his blazer was black along with his pants. He looked like James fucking Bond and it was already driving (Y/N) crazy. Mitch Rapp wasn't just insanely handsome — he was hella sexy.

"Stop it." He demanded in a low and husky voice, (Y/N) was surprised she actually felt herself intimidated by it... but never would she let him know that.

"Stop what?" (Y/N) shrugged nonchalantly, putting down her makeup brushes on the sink and opening the tie to her robe.

"Stop assuming you're better than me." Rapp retorted through clenched teeth. "Stop thinking you can disrespect me."

"I'm not the one being constantly fucked over by my superior-" (Y/N) leaned her lips up to his ear before lingering with a whisper. "Like a little slut."

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, Mitch grabbed her wrists harshly and forced them behind her back. Her robe opened slightly and his eyes instinctively looked down and was able to see she was only wearing her undergarments. His stare lingered and normally (Y/N) would've punched, maybe even shot, a man staring at her in such an obscene way, but this time she actually wanted it. Mitch focused on her as if she was the only thing his eyes could see. He licked his lips unintentionally, but (Y/N) definitely didn't miss the lustful action. The sight of his tongue sparking even more desire inside of her. The two professional assassins felt as the room ignited in flames, the sexual tension afire. Their breaths were erratic and unstable, despite not having done any form of exercise.

"Don't ever call me that again." Rapp went back to why he had her in this position in the first place.

(Y/N) hadn't even remembered what he was referring to, her mind too hazy with the way he had just made her body feel alight. The way his pupils dilated at the sight of her in just her bra and panties alone. The way he seemed to be thinking the same sinful things she was.

"I have to get ready, Mitch." She huffed, now thinking about the task at hand. "We have a mission to attend to or did you forget?"

"I didn't." He let go of her, their eyes never straying away.

"Good." She cleared her throat, pulling off her robe. "I wouldn't want to have to report you to Stan in case you did."

"Don't worry, gorgeous." He did a once over on her body one last time. "I certainly have my eye on the prize, here."

"It's ma'am not gorgeous." Was the last thing she said before leaving the bathroom to put on her dress for the night.

With a sigh, Mitch hunched down and grabbed the robe long forgotten on the floor. He hung it up on a hook nailed to the wall, but not without secretly smelling it first. It smelled exactly like her and he fucking loved it. Mitch would never admit in a million years that he ended up developing a crush on the woman designed to be his babysitter during his missions. He had to establish some kind of dominance in their relationship and not allow her to think she has any sort of hold over him. What he didn't know was that he also had a hold over her. Their feelings for each other weren't romantic in the slightest, no, it was pure lust but it was incredibly strong.

As soon as Mitch walked out of the bathroom and into the hotel room, his breath instantly caught in his throat. (Y/N) had put on her dress and she looked nothing short of absolutely stunning. She wore a red gala gown that was certainly made for royalty, which she was. It was tight and hug her curves so perfectly, Mitch could already feel his *** straining against his boxers. But what really drove him off the cliff of pure lust was the slit in the fabric, revealing her long and sexy leg that he wanted wrapped around only his neck.

"Mitch? Did you even hear what I just asked?" Her voice echoed in the room before hitting his eardrums and waking him from his trance.

"What?"

"Clearly you didn't." She shook her head and Mitch's adam's apple bobbed up and down with a gulp — something completely out of character for the particular assassin. He was always confident and never did anyone have any edge over him... that is until red gown wearing (Y/N) came into the picture.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to give off the harsh vibe that was currently lacking in his thoughts.

"I need you to zip up my dress. Can you handle it or do you need me to fucking teach you that too?" She hissed, obviously annoyed with his lack of attention on her.

If only she knew.

Mitch didn't say a word, he simply placed his hands on her waist and abruptly turned her around to face her back towards him. (Y/N) wasn't expecting it in the slightest, her mouth taking in a sharp breath at his sudden touch. He gathered her hair and put it all over one side of her shoulder before moving his fingers to grab the small zipper at the small of her back. He pulled it up, his skin touching hers and making the both of them buzz with the intimate feeling.

"There." Mitch cleared his throat, letting go and taking a step back. "Are you fucking done getting ready yet?"

"Yes, Mitch." She rolled at the typical impatient man. "I'm all done. Let's get to the Gala."

"Finally." He audibly sighed and it took everything in (Y/N) not to punch him in the gut.

At the doorstep, (Y/N) put on her high heels and they were officially off. The car ride to the big fancy mansion was filled with silence and tension. The two assassins putting aside their differences and infatuations to focus on the mission in front of them.

"I'll take that, sir." The valet parker offered as he opened the door to the driver's seat and another employee opened the door for (Y/N). The two got out of the car, Mitch handing the stranger the keys to his black impala the agency lent for their case.

Mitch and (Y/N) shared knowing glances before walking towards the mansion's entrance, their game faces on. They have to be in, kill their latest target and be out as quickly as possible to avoid risking getting caught. The two walked inside along with the sea of guests, doing everything they could to seem normal.

The place was beautiful. There was no denying it. Everything was decorated so elegantly and so intricately, they both felt lost as they stared and almost forgot why they were even here in the first place. Fairy lights and chandeliers hung from the ceilings, people dressed in their absolute best as some sat on tables drinking fancy wine whilst others danced on the dance floor with their partners. The atmosphere was sophisticated and you could tell every single person in this building had more money than they could even manage to count.

"Would you care for a drink, ma'am?" A passerby waiter asked, holding out a tray of varied drinks in expensive glasses.

"Thank you." (Y/N) forced a smile, taking an apple martini and searching the crowd for their target.

"Over there." Mitch nodded to the dance floor as soon as the waiter was gone. She followed his direction and she peered over to the exact place where the terrorist was intimately dancing with what looked like a twenty year old, which was disgusting considering the guy was clearly over his fifties... and married to another woman.

"I can't even tell you how much I want him dead." (Y/N) sighed at the scene, downing her drink in one go and placing it on the nearest table beside her. To say Mitch was impressed would be an understatement. "Come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dance floor before he could complain.