Part Eighty-One: The End of Makarov - Part Two

                                    

                                          
"Your drinks, gentlemen." I place wine glasses and two bottles of the hotel's finest Merlot, which combined cost more than I can stomach.
"My gratitude, beautiful." Makarov holds his hand out to mine, so I give him my hand in return, and he...kisses it.
It takes everything in me not to revolt.
"What was that?" Ghost asks over the comms, his tone sharp.
"Shhh." Laswell keeps Ghost in line and focused. 
"Are you two ready to order? Can I start you off with an appetizer?" I ask the pair.
I take their appetizer orders and head back to the kitchen, letting the Head Chef know what to prepare. 
After leaving the kitchen, I linger in the hallway for a moment before returning to the roof.
"I placed their order for the appetizer. Can't I just poison that?" I ask, ready to be done with this mission.
"Negative," Price cuts in. "For the poison to not be detected, the doses are very small. If they don't eat the entire appetizer, or where we place the poison on it, it won't work to its full extent. It might just make them sick."
"So how would I remedy that with an entire meal? It's bigger, no?" I question incredulously. 
"You'll need to cook the poison inside the meal—a lot of it, not just place it on top," Captain Price answers.
"I need to cook it in? How the hell am I supposed to do that?" I ask, the panic in me rising.
"That's for you to figure out, Roberts," Price deadpans.
"Yes, sir," I respond and shut my comms off momentarily.
"ThAt's fOr YoU tO fIguRe oUt," I mimic my commanding officer under my breath as I head toward the kitchen.
I turn my comms back on. 
After 20 minutes, the appetizers are ready. I serve the pair their appetizers and they enjoy it over their wine. After that, I take their entree orders. 
"Is there anything else I can bring for you in the meantime?" I ask sweetly. 
I receive two mischievous grins in response.
My blood runs cold. 
"Sit vith us." Makarov turns his entire body to face me now.
I immediately flush. "Oh," I giggle and attempt to politely reject, saying, "I wouldn't want to impede on your time." 
"I insist," Makarov says firmly with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"I as vell," Victor seconds the motion.
"But, gentlemen, there is no seat for me," I giggle again, uncomfortably this time.
"I have seat for you here." Makarov pats his lap with his hands.
Nope. No fucking way.
"Alright," I say abashedly. 
Makarov picks up on this, not in a way that might blow my cover, but in a way that makes me his prey for the night—something he longs to devour.
That's how it goes for powerful men. They love the cat and mouse chase.
I slowly sit down on Makarov's lap, not wanting to put too much pressure down, and he wraps one of his arms around my waist—his hand incredibly low on my hip—fingers inching where they shouldn't.