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High Profile (ShadowOfDesire and Catalyst)

His teasing drew a scowl on her pretty face, brows drawn together as his words sank in. He knew way too much about her. If he knew about her parents, then he knew how she made a living, and how much money she had. Of course, he would have guessed that from the space in her lavish apartment. He'd been doing research on her and staying in her apartment. It made her feel violated. Gross. She rubbed her bare hands up and down her arms to soothe away the prickly feeling.

"Three weeks?" She huffed. "You think you can stay here for three weeks without getting caught? I told you... I'm expecting people. Least of all is the cleaning lady who can let herself in whenever she wants. And food delivery, too. Isn't there somewhere else you can wait to do whatever business you need to do? This place is very busy. I have lots of friends and enjoy socializing, so people are always popping in when I least expect it."

Slowly, she twisted to lower herself down off the couch, bare feet landing silently on the floor. With a glance back at him, she walked slowly to the kitchen, careful not to make any sudden movements or deviate. At the fridge, she grabbed herself another bottle of water and then closed the door firmly. Pausing, she silently calculated how close the door was to her now and whether she could make it before he moved.

He wouldn't shoot me, would he? Too much noise. He'd have to get close. Placing her bottle on the counter, she leaned on the cold stone surface and twisted the lid as she stared at him across the room.
 
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"And if that happens, then you'll just have to tell them to leave." he retorted, not interested in her excuses so much as he was in getting back to his own work. "Besides...having people always drop by unexpectedly doesn't exactly sound like the safest way of doing things, now, does it?" he cocked an eyebrow at her, mentally calling her bluff. He knew the hoops he had to jump through to find a way past security himself, and that was when the apartment was supposed to be empty. So somehow, he wasn't so sure that getting here was as easy for just anyone as she was attempting to make it sound.

He may not have moved physically, but his gaze followed her like the eyes of the Mona Lisa. He was not letting his guard down, just yet. The amount of time it would take for her to suddenly redirect to either the stairs or the foyer would give him more than enough time to cut her off from his position, as he half-sat, half-leaned upon the arm of the living room chair.

What she was not aware of at that moment, nor should she have been, was the small handgun tucked away at his waist. Someone in his chosen line of work could not exactly afford to be caught without a weapon, after all. Though while he had silencers and other such tools at his disposal, none of them were there with him now. They were all upstairs with his own things. Even if he did have the choice of firing without the alarm of sound, however, he knew all to well that it would not be an option. Killing her was not an option. Not until the job was done, or until his own life was in mortal jeopardy. Her death would raise far too many questions to far too many people who had seen far too much of his face. If he did not have interested in preserving himself, he could have already offed her without hesitation, without her ever so much as knowing what hit her. Fortunately for her, he was not quite so short-sighted.

What he was banking on, however, was that she would not realize that.

"Why don't ya bring me a beer while you're over there, huh?" he called jeeringly over to her. "I know you got something. I ain't picky."
 
Sofia huffed at the request, but opened the fridge and pulled an import from the top shelf. She kept a variety of beer and booze in the fridge and freezer, but resented having to fetch and carry one for her uninvited guest. Bottle of beer in one hand and her water in the other, she strode back toward the living room. He was watching her, but she was so close. Just a few steps to freedom. If she made it to the hall, other would hear her screaming.

Her decision made, when she reached the hallway that led into the foyer and the front door, she tensed. "You want it? Then, here!"

She chucked both bottles at him as hard as she could and swiveled, racing for the front door as fast as her long legs could carry her. Her momentum carried her into the door itself where she fumbled with the deadbolt and chain, trying to undo both before he reached her. Her heart was pounding fearfully, pulsing in her ears, and her stomach quivered nervously as she fought with the locks that she'd worked a thousand times over. Terror made her clumsy and slow.
 
If there was one thing that could temporarily wipe that smug grin from his lips, it was that. He ducked, and the two glass bottles were sent flying directly over his head. With a sharp, thunderous crash, one shattered into a million pieces as it struck the mantle beneath the television, splashing all the walls, furniture, and even the ceiling in a harsh mist of overpriced German lager. The other had not quite made it, breaking upon the marble floor and leaving a puddle of water beneath its many shards.

He glanced back instinctively to the source of the sound, surveying the wreckage for the fraction of a second needed to realize what she'd just done. By the time his head snapped back, she was already making a break for it.

So that's how we're going to do this...

She was quick, that was for sure. But her fumbling would cost her dearly. Within a moment, he was on her, pushing her forward, sending her body crashing hard into the door, effectively slamming it back shut just as she had finally managed to crack it open. He wrapped his arms around her throat and behind her head in a tight choke, ripping her away from her desperate hope for escape with brutish strength.

"Alright!" he growled into her ear. "Hard way it is then!"

With a wrenching movement, he twisted his torso, tossing her over his hip and down onto the cold, unforgiving floor. He wasted no time in pushing her back onto her back and climbing atop her, straddling her hips. As she bore the weight of his much larger size on her small frame, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them high above her head, taking them both in one massive hand. With the other, he gripped her face and forced her to look him in the eye.
 
He was faster than she'd realized. Faster than anticipated. Only moments from freedom, she found herself suddenly plunged down into pain as he manhandled her so easily. Her breath was pushed from her lungs as she struck the floor, leaving her gasping for air. Slightly dazed, she didn't have time to even think of wriggling free before he was atop her, restraining her with his body and hands. Her head finally cleared as he wrenched her face about, and her struggles renewed, though it was far too late. He held her fast and there was no way she could buck hard enough to toss him off, but she still tried. She planted her feet on the floor and shifted her hips, trying to throw him one way or the other, or make him lose his balance. Her wrists tugged at the hand that held him, jerking every way possible to break his grip.

"Get off me!" she screamed when she finally found her breath. Her voice was pitched high and echoed about the foyer, but the thick walls of her apartment made it unlikely anyone would hear unless they were right outside her door. "GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

Feisty wasn't quite enough to describe the fiery Latina. She was like a wild creature, suddenly caged. Though she was outmatched, and she knew it, she still fought to regain control.
 
His hand squeezed her wrists, leaving impressions where his fingertips pressed into her skin, and he used the floor to assist him in keeping them fixed fast to the ground, no matter how hard she dared to wriggle them. Every buck of her hips served to press her lower body, covered only by that thin pair of panties and over-sized shirt, up against his own, and that had not gone unnoticed, sending flickers of lustful desire through his mind. He'd have been lying if he said that her constant struggle against him was not rapidly and effectively turning him on.

"Mmmm, you reallly don't get it, do you?" He hissed as his hand snaked downward, fingers curling around her throat. He pressed his hips down against her more firmly as he leaned in closer, bringing his own face dangerously close to her own, but just barely out of reach. "There ain't nobody coming for you! You aren't going anywhere!"

All sorts of scenarios played out in his head as he pondered what he could do with her next, and not the least of which involved stripping her down right then and there for his own sadistic pleasure. "Come on! Keep fighting, show me what ya got!" He egged her on with scathing sarcasm in his voice. "I know you can do better than that, can't you, you little bitch?"
 
She growled in frustration as her efforts came to naught, and collapsed against the floor, breathing heavily from the effort. She jerked her wrists again, despite the pain of his grip, glaring up at him as neither budged. Another snarl rolled from her throat as she tried twisting her torso to throw him off again, sending her large breasts quaking beneath the soft over-sized shirt. Again, her efforts came to nothing, for she was fit and toned, but not muscular or strong. Collapsing a second time, jaw clenched, her brows dipped in a scowl.

"So what the fuck are you going to do with me while you're here? Keep me barricaded in the closet? You think I'm going to stop trying to escape just because you say so?" Perhaps it was stupid of her to warn him, but she was angry and frustrated at her lack of control over the situation. "Get off!"

Sofia's mind was reeling with all possible ways she could escape from her apartment. He might be guarding some, but he couldn't guard them all. He'd slip up, just once, and she'd make her escape.
 
"Oh, I'd be disappointed if you did!" he mocked her, practically hissing into her ear as he pressed his body down against her. "I spent weeks setting up all this shit up. Doing my research, finding the perfect place. You think I came all this way just to let some little Instagram whore ruin it for me?" Clearly, he was intentionally prodding her, now. For he was in complete and utter control, and he knew it all too well.

"You want me off?! Fine! I'll get off." he snapped back at her. "Hmph...you know...closet isn't a half-bad idea, now that you mention it...but I'm pretty sure I've got a few of my own."

He tangled his fingers up in her long hair, still damp from her shower, and grabbed a tight handful of its locks at the base of her skull. "GET UP!" He commanded, not giving her much of a choice as he rose back to his feet over her and physically forced her to her own. If she dared to fight against him, he would only yank harder, controlling her by her head to follow as he dragged her through her own apartment like a dog on an exceptionally short leash.
 
"Oh, I'd be disappointed if you did!" he mocked her, practically hissing into her ear as he pressed his body down against her. "I spent weeks setting up all this shit up. Doing my research, finding the perfect place. You think I came all this way just to let some little Instagram whore ruin it for me?" Clearly, he was intentionally prodding her, now. For he was in complete and utter control, and he knew it all too well.

"You want me off?! Fine! I'll get off." he snapped back at her. "Hmph...you know...closet isn't a half-bad idea, now that you mention it...but I'm pretty sure I've got a few of my own."

He tangled his fingers up in her long hair, still damp from her shower, and grabbed a tight handful of its locks at the base of her skull. "GET UP!" He commanded, not giving her much of a choice as he rose back to his feet over her and physically forced her to her own. If she dared to fight against him, he would only yank harder, controlling her by her head to follow as he dragged her through her own apartment like a dog on an exceptionally short leash.
 
"Ow!" She shrieked as he jerked her hair, automatically clambering to her feet to lessen the pain. Both of her hands clawed at his, trying to force his fingers open as she stumbled after him, slightly bent in an awkward position. At one point, she was able to get enough slack so that her hair wasn't in danger of being jerked out by the roots, and tried to halt his progress by backpedaling. Her feet only slipped and skidded on the polished marble floor, not able to find any traction.

The man was dangerous, that much she knew, and now he was angry. She cursed her poorly timed attempt at escape, vowing that her next would be successful as she waited patiently for him to slip up. How long will that take, though? How much time does he need here? And when he's ready to leave, am I just a loose end he's going to eliminate? The thought caused another wave of fear to roll through her, giving another burst of energy to her struggles, though even that wasn't enough to break his grip.

Eyes watering, Sofia could only stagger after him, trying to move fast enough so that the merciless fingers woven through her hair wouldn't cause any more pain. "Stop! Let go!" Her screams rose dangerously in volume as he forced her along, each errant jerk against her tender scalp causing her to cry out.
 
She'd managed to leave a handful of prominent scratches all along his wrist and hand, but by now, he was determined to keep her from getting away again, and it would take far more than that to force him to release her. Her screams were shrill, stinging his ears. Fuck, she's loud. Anywhere else, and someone might have been able to hear her cries for help, after all.

He yanked her by her long locks into the living room past the stairs, leaving the living room television idle on the Netflix home screen, asking simply 'Who's watching?'

Violently, he jerked her back inside of her own bedroom, slamming the door closed and locking it behind them. From there, there was no other outlet. No route of escape. Her only way out would be through him, and he was not going to allow that to happen.

He loosened his grip on her hair, pushing her deeper into the room with enough force to make her lose her footing and fall to her knees on the ground once more. In an instant, he reached for his waistband and brandished his black steel revolver, pointing it toward her, staring at her through narrowed eyes, and clicking back the hammer. "You still wanna act all tough, sweetheart?"
 
Sofia's heart was thumping loudly again by the time he released her. Catching herself with her hands as he shoved her forward, she winced as the rug burned her knees. Peering angrily up at him, tears gleaming in those dark depths, her expression shifted the instant she saw his pistol. Rage turned to fear, and she shrank back as though putting some distance between herself and the weapon would actually help. She swallowed and bit down on her lower lip to stifle any other cries. Her gaze slid past the gun to the man, and she shook her head slowly.

While she had plenty of cyberstalkers, she'd never had a person try to cause her physical harm. She'd received tons of fan mail and hate mail, as well, but never had anyone gone so far as to show up at her apartment to harass her. Her security was far too good, which still begged the question of how he'd gotten past the building security guards. She'd certainly seen a gun before, but not while it was pointing directly at her by a man that she thought dangerous enough to actually use it if she gave him no other choice.

Rocking back on her knees, she just stared at him -- him and the gun -- and didn't utter a single word.
 
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Now that's more like it, he thought to himself. Her silence was music to his ears. But if she wanted to act tough, he was more than happy to show her who was really in charge between the two of them. "Yeah. That's what I thought," he said after a moment, never budging as he kept his weapon pointed directly at her, even whilst he allowed his eyes to look her up and down. She was at his mercy now.

"What's the matter, hmm? Cat got your tongue?" he questioned her rhetorically. "Or are you just realizing that maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't be fucking with the guy with your life in the palm of his hands?" The tone in his voice was challenging, a strange and alarming blend of deadly serious and tauntingly jocular. "What's that shit Mike Tyson said? Everybody's got a plan until they get punched in the mouth?" he halfway chuckled. "Ain't that the truth!"

He paused, studying the young woman before him with anything but innocence on the brain. Then he gestured toward her with the barrel of the gun. "Stand up." he said flatly, seeming all of a sudden a little bit less amused and much more intent on whatever idea had just found its way into his head.
 
Sofia was shaking as she pulled herself to her feet, using the bed for support. Swallowing again, her eyes flicked for a moment to the gun. He wouldn't really shoot her, would he? It would make too much noise, and he'd be discovered.

But as she stared at the weapon, she knew she couldn't take the risk that he was bluffing. If she pushed him too far, maybe he'd care more about eliminating her than getting caught. Maybe he already did, and her brash decision would be the last mistake she'd ever make.

It was a cold, sobering thought. The man wasn't playing games.
 
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He knew that look of genuine fear in her eyes when he saw it. He'd been doing what he did for a very long time, after all. And if there was one thing he knew all to well to be true, it was that even the toughest of people tended to uncover an entirely different side of themselves rather quickly once they were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

As she rose to her feet before him, he continued to examine her, a myriad of ideas held secret behind focused, practically metallic eyes. "I've seen what you do..." he remarked. "How you make your money...Not that you need to do it, of course. Your parents are disgustingly rich, and I'm sure they love their spoiled little girl enough that they would give you anything and everything you could possibly ever want without so much as a second thought."

He cocked an eyebrow at her as his gaze wandered downward. "You could live your entire luxurious, sugar-coated life without ever having to so much as think about doing anything for money, in any capacity...But I bet you love all that attention you get, don't you? Millions of eyes staring at those pictures. Staring at you. Just showing off for everyone..."
 
She flushed, a momentary flash of irritation replacing the fear in her eyes. "It's not a crime to be pretty," she retorted, "though some people try to convince you otherwise. I'd think that people would praise me rather than degrade me for not depending on my parents for money. I enjoy being independent of them and not having rely on them for everything. I'm building a brand. A business. Something to keep the money rolling in when my looks go, and I'm too old to hide the wrinkles. Botox and plastic surgery can only get you so far in this world."

"And why shouldn't I enjoy it? People like looking at my pictures. Maybe it helps them in their pitiful little lives, giving them a goal they can strive to reach. Maybe it'll help them to want to look better, get fit, and stop eating fast food cheeseburgers." Her chin lifted just a fraction in defiance. "How am I any different than an actress or a Broadway singer? We all like to show off for people. That's entertainment."
 
Why shouldn't she enjoy it? He had to chuckle to himself. For once, it seemed she could not be more right. Who wouldn't? Hell, I wish it was that easy for me to make money. I might just kill for that gig, if I wasn't already...well...The thought amused him.

He may have detested her vanity, but there was no denying what she had to show for it. A body every woman would love to have, and that every man would love to take. He was no exception.

"We aaallll like to show off for people..." he echoed her sentiment, eyeing her intensely. "That's absolutely right...and some of us...like to be shown off to." He took but one small step further into the room, just enough to adjust his stance, and in the process drawing ever so slightly nearer.

"So go ahead, Broadway...Entertain me..." it was almost as though he was challenging her. Yet that filthy gaze never wavered.
 
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"W-what?" She blinked in confusion and automatically took a step backward as he advanced, thighs pressed against her mattress. "I'm not that sort of entertainer. I was just making a point that what I do is part of the entertainment industry. If you want to see what I do... you'd need a photographer, a camera, the whole set up. It's a professional process. Unless I'm taking a selfie, there's lighting to consider and angles and a host of other things."

Her gaze shifted back to the gun in his hand, held so casually like an old friend. "I couldn't do a photoshoot while that thing is pointed at me, anyhow. I have to be relaxed and in the right mindset. It shows in the photos. Everything shows. You can see it in the eyes." Her eyes still held some fear, fear of him and of that gun.

Plucking at the hem of her shirt, she realized just how little she was wearing. She hadn't even bothered to put on a bra, and the air conditioned air had turned her nipples hard against the fabric of her top. She crossed her arms over her chest in a futile attempt to shield herself.
 
He tilted his head to one side, looking her over as she spoke. There was a lull of silence that followed, but then suddenly, a wide grin had appeared upon his face. He laughed aloud, and there was no mistaking it; he was laughing at her. He couldn't help himself. Lights, angles, mindsets...God, can she really be this stupid?

"You...really don't get it...do you, princess?" he managed to say through a few residuals chuffs of humor, shaking his head subtly. He could tell by the way she'd adjusted herself that she was not totally ignorant of the thoughts running through his mind. Her attempt at avoiding his request, though, would do her little good. "This ain't a photo shoot." he reminded her, as though she really needed to be told. "I don't see any spotlights, any set pieces, any of that bullshit. Do you? Cause as far as I can tell, the only camera you need to be worried about..." he tapped the gun with his opposite hand, drawing her attention to it. "...is this one, right here."

"Now we're gonna try this one more time, huh? You're gonna show off to me, like you love to do so much, cause I'm the only audience you got. So lights, camera, and FUCKIN' ACTION!" he jeered her, his words caustic, as the amusement seemed to slowly fade into demanding gravitas. "Take off the shirt."
 
Her stomach clenched tightly at his order as her lips parted in shock. He wanted her to... strip? She wanted to protest, to scream that she was no stripper, but she knew that'd not help. His mind was on one particular thing, and that gun in his hand ensured he'd get it. Trembling, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up slowly, gliding over her smooth, tawny skin. Removing her head and arms in such a way to shield her body from view, she freed herself from her shirt, but held it as a shield in front of her, still covering her breasts. He'd already seen her naked, but she couldn't possibly know that.

Now she stood before him in on her high-cut panties and a bit of cloth to shield her from view. Her cheeks were blazing, though with anger rather than embarrassment. Jaw clenched, jutted slightly, she dragged her shirt away from her body and threw it on the bed. Her chin rose another fraction as she stared him down, now bare breasted, those full orbs taut with youth, nipples hardened in the cold. Her nostrils flared.
 
His watchful gaze followed her hands all the way down to the bottom of her shirt, and all the way back up as she slowly stripped it off, waiting far from patiently until the moment she finally relented and revealed herself to him. Her tight, toned body looked even better up close. The pictures he'd seen had their touchups and photoshop, but even then didn't quite do justice to the view he had. No, what he could feast his eyes upon now went far beyond what her millions of followers could ever hope to see.

If a stare could kill, perhaps his target would have a chance to live, after all. She was angry. He could see it. Hell, he could feel it. But what's more...he was absolutely loving it. He had every intention of looking his fill. His own gaze picked her apart as though she were a piece of fresh meat on display, knowing full well that every second spent with her tits fully exposed for his pleasure was absolutely infuriating her.

"Mmm...not bad..." he taunted her. "not bad at allll..." he took a step closer to her. Followed by another, and another, always taking care to keep himself between her and the bedroom door. His hard-soled shoes made soft sounds on the marble floor that he no longer bothered to hush as he had done before. It was the only sound in the silence between them until finally, his attention wandered downward. It soon became apparent that he would be nowhere near satisfied with simply that. "Now lose the underwear," he demanded.
 
She flushed at his next insistent demand, still furious at the indignity of the situation. Her gaze flitted to the gun in his hand as she began to doubt him using it at all. His request spurred another flash of defiance. She crossed her arms over her chest to shield her breasts from his piercing gaze again. "I'm not a damned stripper," she muttered. He was enjoying humiliating her, and she knew it. That made her even angrier. She didn't know what he'd do to her, but she didn't like the way he was looking at her. Not one bit. Snatching her shirt back off the bed, she held it against her body again like a shield.

"If you think I'm going to sleep with you, you're delusional. I have a boyfriend. I'm nobody's whore." Of course, he could simply force her. The thought made her stomach quiver. Would he really do that? Or was he just trying to scare her? She was beginning to doubt her bravado. He was looking far too serious to simply be teasing, and so she backed away, moving adjacent to the mattress as he advanced.
 
Of course it wasn't going to be that easy.

He looked visibly annoyed when she grabbed her shirt, as though she'd just taken something away from him. "No? Seems like you're quite the whore for attention, to me." he quipped back. As she weaseled her way around to the side of the bed, though, he stopped, staying momentarily put. "Keep backing away, and you're going to run out of room. What then, hmm? You gonna try to jump over the bed and make a break for the door?" he was toying with her, now. He knew there was indeed a great chance that she would try to bolt again. Unfortunately for her, his years of experience were not in vain. With only one exit, he could practically telegraph each and every possibility.

"I'm afraid you're the one who's delusional, princess." he continued. "I know who you are, but you, on the other hand, have no idea who it is you're dealing with. Now you've got balls, I'll give you that, but if you're going to talk back, you may want to be a little wiser in picking your battles. Quite frankly, you haven't even done all that much, and already, I can say I've killed people for less. So either lose the underwear, or I'll pull them off of you myself." The warning was spoken as clearly as it could possibly be from his lips.
 
Still flushed and angry from his taunting, she scowled at him. She was about to spout off again when she remembered how violent he'd been with her when she'd tried to escape. There was no softness to the man. He was a trained killer, and she had little doubt of that. Her gaze flitted briefly to the door at the mention of escape, but the idea hadn't occurred to her. She hadn't been able to escape the first time, and she'd been able to catch him unaware. He was waiting for another attempt, so she wasn't going to try it. Not yet. Not until his guard was down.

Even so, the thought of stripping for the man disgusted her. She'd never taken her clothes off for a man unless she was willing to fuck him. She wasn't one of those loose girls that had her tits photographed because she wanted to show them to the world. While many of her shots showed tons of skin, and only a teeny bikini could do, she didn't take nudes. She'd had guys ask her for pics before, and she'd never once sent anyone a nude of herself. Those nudes had a way of getting out into the world. All it would take was one disgruntled boyfriend, and he'd be selling porn tapes or pictures of her to some sleezy porno website.

So her gaze leveled at him, anger flashing within them again, her fear seemingly forgotten despite the continued appearance of his gun. "You. Wouldn't. Dare," she shot back. "If you hurt me, lay another hand on me, you'll never be able to stop running. My father has connections. He knows people. People even more dangerous than you."
 
"Oh, I wouldn't, would I?" he narrowed his eyes upon her. You're even stupider than I thought... "Are you sure about that?"

The wealthy, well-connected relative who will ruin my life if I touch a hair on their head. Such threats alone meant very little to him. He'd heard it all before, along with a dozen other ridiculous excuses for why he shouldn't do exactly what he was planning to do. Granted, as far as the rich and powerful went, they didn't come much more so than Luis Diaz. The name alone was just barely one step away from royalty. Admittedly, he would have felt far more comfortable without that possibility looming. But things had already spiralled well beyond that point. Besides, even with all of those connections, and all the money, and power in the world...none of it would matter, if they never got the chance to do anything about it.

"Well, I suppose that's a bridge I'll just have to burn down once I come to it..." He dismissed her, "But last I checked, your father wasn't here to save you now, now is he?"

He began to move in on her, taking slow, methodical steps toward her, prepared for any sudden move she might dare to try and make. The nearer he drew, he pulled back his weapon to his hip, eventually stowing it away. If the threat of cold steel wouldn't do the job for him, then he would just have to do it himself. "You want to do this the hard way?" he challenged her harshly. "Fine, then let's do it the hard way."
 
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