How to Accidentally Hire a Hitman

I accidentally hired a hitman when I meant to order a male escort online.

Me, [How much for one session?]

Hitman, [How many targets?]

Holy shit, they offer bulk discounts?!

I hesitated for a moment, then I gave my name.

[Just... just one person. Any discounts?]

It had been ten day since the breakup. That time of the month when hormones go wild.

I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Finally, around midnight, I logged onto an website, looking for something to help me drift off.

Scrolling, scrolling... when suddenly a photo bursting with raw masculinity appeared under my thumb.

In the picture, a man wore a dark tactical helmet and balaclava. His massive chest strained against a tight black shirt, the only visible skin was his large, powerful hands gripping a rifle.

Knuckles prominent, veins bulging.

The substantial weapon looked almost small and manageable in those hands.

I couldn't help but imagine those long fingers pulling the trigger.

If what was under his finger wasn't a trigger, but...

I instinctively covered my tingling nose.

Perfection! What a masked dominant figure!

I quickly clicked into the user's profile, desperate for more eye candy.

But most of the account was locked. To unlock messages, you needed a paid subscription.

The comments below were filled with glowing anonymous reviews.

["Worth every penny."]

["Service was excellent and professional!"]

["Clean, thorough, no loose ends."]

I thought about it for a second, and understood

This must be OnlyFans!

Calculating the exchange rate, I winced through gritted teeth.

Not cheap. This "model" was expensive..

Normally, I'd just drool a bit and move on.

But recently, getting cheated on by my ex had left me furious. I needed something nice to soothe myself.

We women deserve to treat ourselves well.

Money can be earned back, but I'll never get another chance in my twenties, alone and yearning, to experience a masked dominant figure.

I immediately purchased the most expensive tier.

Sure enough, a private message popped up quickly.

["What service do you require?"]

The tone matched the image, steady, cold.

I could practically picture the man, expression stern, casting a razor-sharp glance my way.

Heart pounding, I gathered my courage.

["How much for an in-person session?"]

He replied fast, ["How many targets?"]

Holy shit, they do group sessions too?!

I was momentarily stunned by his broad service range.

Tough economy, even clients" are tightening their budgets.

I mused for a bit, ["Just one person."]

Then added, ["Any discounts?"]

Silence from the other end. He seemed thrown by my question. After a pause, bolded words appeared.

["Non-negotiable."]

So aloof. Business must be good.

He seemed to realize he was being curt. Soon, another message arrived.

["Any special requests?"]

Me, !

Service this comprehensive? Making my mind wander into dangerous territory.

My face flushed. Every steamy scene I'd ever imagined started playing on a loop in my head.

After an embarrassingly long time, I typed awkwardly.

["Anything?"]

Another long, deep silence stretched out, even longer than before.

Finally, two succinct words appeared.

["Extra fee."]

...The butterflies in my stomach suddenly crashed and died.

My excitement evaporated instantly, ["Oh. Never mind then."]

After sending my name, birthday, and a photo as requested, I ventured a question.

["What should I call you?"]

The professional's response was icy.

["Unnecessary. Once the transaction is complete, we won't be in contact."]

Wow. The legendary no-strings-attached arrangement.

The underworld really is different.

Me, ["I need something to call you. Codename?"]

He seemed to consider it. The typing indicator flickered before a reply slowly appeared.

["Codename, Phoenix."]

The day of our meeting finally arrived.

My heart raced with anticipation as I grabbed my purse and hurried to the designated spot.

Sitting in the caf, nervous energy made me check my phone repeatedly.

But as minutes turned into an hour, disappointment began to settle in.

Had I been stood up?

Dejected, I was about to leave when I made one last desperate scan of the entrance.

The coffee shop and the sidewalk outside were empty.

The street beyond was quiet too.

Reluctant to give up, my eyes swept the surroundings.

Until my gaze landed on a tall figure standing under a tree across the street, some distance away.

My breath hitched.

The man was impeccably dressed - lean and towering, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his tailored shirt.

Yet, even from this distance, I could see how every button was perfectly fastened, his sunglasses and mask hiding any distinguishing features.

Only his hands were visible - strong, capable hands that matched the photo perfectly.

I hurried over.

Up close, he l was even more impressive,. At well over six feet, he carried himself with an athletic grace that made my pulse quicken.

His pants pocket bulged conspicuously. Hard to guess what was inside.

That chest. Those shoulders. The sheer presence of him.

My internal drool puddle overflowed, washing away much of my annoyance at the long wait.

Maybe he got the location wrong?

I tapped his shoulder. "Were you waiting for me?"

The cool guy startled at my touch.

He started, stepping back with a wary look.

["You've mistaken me for someone else."]

I couldn't help but touch my ear.

His voice was deeper than I expected - a rich baritone that vibrated through me.

But icy cold.

I insisted, ["No mistake. I waited forever. Why didn't you come find me?"]

He remained silent for a few beats, his expression unreadable behind the sunglasses.

["I don't know what you're talking about."]

Annoyance flickered through me. ["What's wrong with you? You get paid, you deliver! Too late to back out now!"]

For a long moment, he simply studied me. Then, with a sigh that seemed to make his broad chest expand, he removed his sunglasses and mask.

My breath caught again.

He was devastatingly handsome - all sharp angles and intense eyes that seemed to see right through me.

One hand slid into that noticeably full pocket as he stepped closer.

Narrow eyes assessed me, gauging my intent.

["Since you seem so certain, what exactly are you expecting?"]

Such a vibrant, gorgeous man standing so close.

I found myself suddenly shy, my gaze dropping.

I managed, gesturing vaguely toward the hotel down the street.

["I, um... booked a hotel room nearby. It's too public out here for... discussing business."]

When he didn't respond immediately, I quickly added, ["Don't worry! I'm not actually going to do anything inappropriate. I just thought we could talk privately."]

My voice grew softer. ["Anything beyond that would require your... consent."]

Suddenly, he closed the distance between us, leaning down towards me.

Instantly, his shadow enveloped me.

Compared to his powerful, towering frame, I felt like a fragile doll.

I held my breath.

Seeing this, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips - like ice cracking to reveal something dangerous beneath.

Like ice cracking, revealing dangerous, alluring depths beneath.

His low, magnetic voice vibrated against my ear.

["I'm not the one who should be worried. You should be worried about what I might do to you."]

With that, he turned and walked towards the hotel, leaving me standing there, my cheeks burning.

It took me a full minute to collect myself enough to follow, my heart still pounding.

Is this the power of a professional? Absolutely terrifying!

On the hotel bed.

Phoenix and I sat side by side in awkward silence.

To break the tension, I scrambled for small talk.

["So... what made you choose this profession?"]

["Couldn't do anything else."]

My mind immediately conjured up a tragic backstory, impoverished youth, dropped out of school, unemployed, ultimately turning to... this line of work.

I tried to offer polite reassurance. ["This profession has its own... historical significance. Don't feel bad about it."]

Phoenix seemed uncomfortable discussing his profession, frowning slightly. ["Let's focus on the matter at hand. What exactly do you want?"]

Straight to the point?

Wasn't that a bit too direct?

I shyly rubbed my hands together. ["O-okay. What are our options? Can we... have sex?"]

His frown deepened. ["Me on you?"]

Huh? Wasn't that the default arrangement?

Confused, I asked, ["Or... me on you?"]

["No."]

["Well... can I touch your... uh... gun?"]

["No."]

["Look at it?"]

["No."]

["Touch your pecs? That's gotta be okay."]

["Absolutely not!!"]

Phoenix's sudden outburst startled me.

I stared blankly at the man who had scooted a foot away, his ears tinged with pink.

Why so intense?

My earlier questions about "special requests" were much more suggestive. Maybe his chest was a particularly sensitive area.

Thinking it over, I asked directly, ["So you're selling the fantasy, not physical contact?"]

He considered this, ["Essentially, yes."]

A principled professional.

Looks like it's just talking under the covers tonight.

Bored, I yawned. ["Fine. I'm going to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable."]

He remained motionless, seemingly indifferent.

When I came out wrapped in a towel.

Phoenix was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my phone.

["Hey! Don't you have any professional ethics?"]

Furious, I lunged at him, trying to snatch back my phone.

He was taller, easily holding the phone out of my reach with an extended arm, even when I stood on tiptoes.

Instead, I ended up practically in his lap, fumbling and brushing against him.

Several times, my face nearly buried itself in that impressive chest multiple times.

Phoenix pressed his lips into a tight line, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them against the headboard, immobilizing me.

His voice was low, strained. ["Are you the actual client?"]

I froze for a moment before understanding - he had been checking our chat history.

Did he think someone else had ordered the service for me?

What's wrong with a woman hiring for herself? So old-traditional!

I glared at him indignantly. ["Yes! So what?"]

The grip on my wrists loosened slightly.

Phoenix frowned, his gaze sharp studying me carefully.

He looked almost... disappointed.

He scolded me in a low voice, ["So young. Why would you throw your life away like this?"]

I was stunned by his lecture.

Snapping back to my senses, I grew even angrier

I was right! He was judgmental!

["I'm canceling this job."]

The man dropped these cold words and released me.

I stared in disbelief as he turned and strode towards the door.

What did that mean? Was he rejecting me?

A professional service provider daring to be picky?

The audacity! I was going to write a five-hundred-word scathing review!

Furious, I scrambled off the bed.

Threw on my clothes, chased him into the hallway, and shouted.

["If you won't do it, plenty of others will! I'll find someone better! Ten of them!"]

The figure down the hall froze abruptly.

He turned back, his expression complex.

["If I refuse, and you'll just hire someone else?"]

He strode back toward me.

His tone was almost anguished.

["Can't you think of something better? Give up on this idea? Do you really have to...?"]

Why couldn't I have normal desire?

Men aren't the only ones with needs.

I was about to argue properly when a horribly familiar voice rang out behind me.

Someone called my name with a laugh, ["Sarah Mitchell? What are you doing here?"]

I turned, annoyed.

Sure enough, there was the handsome face I utterly despised, my ex-boyfriend.

Kevin Grant stood there, silk robe loosely tied.

A trail of bright red marks ran from his neck down to his collarbone.

His chest bore several suggestive scratches half-hidden by the fabric.

Fresh off someone's bed, no doubt.

Not long ago, I'd discovered his habit of frequent hookups.

When I caught him in the act.

Kevin casually zipped up his pants, leaned against the hotel headboard, and lit a cigar.

Blowing a perfect smoke ring at my furious questioning, he smiled faintly.

["Just having some fun, babe. Don't worry."]

He reached for my hand, his tone deceptively gentle. ["You're my one and only official girlfriend."]

Like icy water dousing the volcanic rage.

In that moment, I suddenly went cold.

Kevin might look human like me.

But the gap in our values was wider than between humans and animals.

You can't reason with animals. Arguing was pointless.

I dodged his touch, snatched my hand back, and slapped him hard across the face.

["Not anymore."]

As I walked away, I caught a glimpse of him standing there frozen.

The cigar slipped from his fingers, burning irreparable holes in the hotel carpet.

...

I closed my eyes, forcing the ugly memory back down.

But the jackass just wouldn't quit.

Kevin looked me up and down, rubbing his chin with smug interest.

["Stalking me? We just broke up and you're already missing this?"]

He chuckled low. ["Always knew you were thirsty for me."]

...Jesus take the wheel!

If Ive sinned, let the law punish me, not with this greasy torture!

I felt physically ill.

Thenit hit mewhy suffer alone?

Looking around, I grabbed Phoenix beside me.

I pressed close to him and flashed a sweet smile. ["Watch your mouth. My boyfriend doesn't appreciate other men talking to me like that.."]

Kevin was the king of fragile masculinity.

The idea that his supposedly heartbroken ex had moved on so fast with someone new?

For someone like him, it was another slap in the face.

Sure enough, Kevin stiffened.

A moment later, a nasty smile spread across his face.

["Is that so? Then he should be thanking me.]

["After all, I'm the one who broke in the merchandise."]

["...!"]

I was trembling with rage.

The next instant, warmth enveloped my hand.

Phoenix stepped slightly in front of me, blocking Kevin's leering gaze.

His eyes swept coldly over the marks on Kevin's skin.

["Calling yourself 'used goods'? Sounds like you're admitting you're the disposable one here.."]

Society loves to shame women for their sexuality.

Meanwhile, some men treat notches on their bedpost as trophies.

Kevin probably never expected.

That Phoenix, another man, would throw his own toxic mindset back in his face.

He gaped, speechless.

Finally unable to maintain his facade, anger flooded his eyes, ["You..."]

["Looking for a fight?"]

Phoenix cut him off, closing the distance between them.

At 6'3" with a solid build, he instantly made Kevin look like a twig.

Kevin shot him a venomous glare.

Then, his gaze shifted over Phoenix's shoulder to me.

The hatred in his gaze felt like it could flayn me alive.

["Fine. I'll remember this."]