Chapter 1
Hihi, welcome.
Rio sat and stared at the large white screen before her.
Was this really happening? Was she really doing this?
Her eyes darted around the clinically white room (or shoe box) with no windows before her eyes landed back on the screen again.
The screen whirled before a drawer shot out of the base making Rio jump, her hand flew up to her heart. She scolded herself for it. Wasn’t she an FBI agent? Had been an FBI agent for years before she got pulled from the main field and had been reduced to The Smith’s Programme.
“You’re too brutal for this, Vidal,” her former boss had told her. “You are like Death personified; you detach too easily from the living. You’d be better suited elsewhere.”
Rio rolled her eyes at the memory. Weren’t you supposed to be detached to be an FBI agent or at least a good one?
An instruction flashed on the screen:
Insert nail clipping.
Rio fumbled around in her bag around her shoulder until she pulled out a small plastic lock bag with her nail clipping. She pushed the packet into the drawer and watched it snap shut.
Rio cleared her throat. “Erm…so do I just-”
She cut herself off when the screen flashed black before returning to its blinding white.
How tall are you? The screen asked.
“Five foot, six. Eight if you give me some good heels,” she laughed awkwardly. At the end of the day, she was talking to a fucking machine. How much more awkward could this possibly get?
Where did you grow up?
“Brooklyn…New York.”
Are you willing to relocate?
“Yes,” Rio said hastily. She hated how fast that came out. She tried again, “I mean yes. I have no problem relocating.”
Tell us why you are the perfect agent.
“Well, isn’t obvious?” Rio teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. And then she remembered once again…she was talking to a machine. She cleared her throat. “I can detach easily. I can get the job done and move on as if it had never happened. I’ll be prepared to do whatever you ask of me.”
The screen asked Rio what she majored in, in college.
“Endangered plant species…or biology, if you meant in broader terms.” She bit her lip, “I swear we already covered this?”
The next question hit Rio like a punch to the gut.
Why were you dropped from the main field?
She stirred in her seat. Rio felt like she was at a therapy season now and this machine was her therapist. The curser on the screen blinked at her, urging her on.
“They said I was too detached,” Rio hated how small her voice sounded.
***
Rio couldn’t believe it. She gapped at the brownstone townhouse on the Upper Westside that was now her home. If she knew this is what you got when you joined The Smith’s Programme, she would’ve left the main field on her own accord.
When she was growing up, Rio lived in a tiny apartment above her Abuela’s plant shop. It wasn’t much, but to a child who had been abandoned by their father after their mother had died because they, ‘reminded them too much of her.’ It was everything.
Rio swallowed before climbing the steps to her new three-story home.
The house had everything she could think of; an open plan kitchen with oak furbishing, a large living room fitted with fine leather sofas, an in-home library. Rio’s new home had a fucking library. She couldn’t believe it and she was only on the first floor.
Rio spotted an elevator down the corridor and made quick work of walking over to it and pushing its only button. The elevator ‘pinged’ moments later and she stepped inside.
The basement had a cinema room, a gym and an inside swimming pool (which she would definitely be getting into the moment she had finished exploring the house). The top floor had three ensuite bedrooms with king-sized beds, a large study with two desks and shelves decked with even more books, and an open rooftop garden.
Rio wanted to sob at the sight of it. She could detach from humans easy, but plants? Just the mere thought of plants stirred up emotions within her. She could see it already, her tending to this garden for hours on end. Perhaps she would hide from her future wife up here if they didn’t get along.
This was the first time Rio had properly thought about it. She was going to be married to a complete stranger by the end of this day. She’d never thought about it, getting married. Not even with her previous girlfriends. She knew with her line of work it would never work.
She scoffed at the irony of it all. Now she was to be married because of her work.
Rio stared at her new garden for a moment longer before turning on her heels and stepping back through the sliding doors, she wanted to take a dip in the pool.
She entered the bedroom closest to the elevator on her left and was surprised to see most of her clothes as she rummaged through the drawers and wardrobes. How did they get these? She knew better not to question it.
Finally, she found her bathing suits. She settled on a forest green two-piece, grabbed a towel from the bathroom and made her way to the elevator.
Rio didn’t hesitate before diving head-first into the decent-sized pool. She loved swimming, it reminded her of summers spent at the community pool whilst her Abuela scolded her for walking around without flip-flops.
She emerged from the water, pushing her dark hair back with both her hands. She took in her surroundings, smiling and splashing. How this was her life, she couldn’t have told you.
Rio spent almost an hour in the pool. She was sure she would’ve stayed longer until she remembered her future wife would be coming home in the evening, and she probably shouldn’t meet her in a bikini.
She climbed up the ladder of the pool, smoothing her hair. Rio walked in the direction of her towel on top of a sunbed before she froze. Her brown eyes locking with deep blue ones.
Shit.
The woman before her was devastatingly beautiful. Her face crossed the line between being soft and ethereal and strong with sharp features. Rio figured whichever one dominated would be down to the expression the woman wore.
The light-washed jeans and white tight-fitted button-up blouse hugged her figure in all the right places, and Rio had to remind herself three times that she could not allow herself to stare at the woman’s chest regardless of how her top buttons were undone and she could see the purple lace bra she wore poking out at the top.
Rio didn’t miss, however, the way the other woman was eyeing her up too. Would this be a problem? She kind of assumed she’d get put with someone she wouldn’t be attracted to, or if she were she could simply acknowledge it and then ignore it completely like white noise.
There would be no ignoring how attracted Rio was to this woman, but it was fine because she had mastered the art of detachment…hadn’t she?
“Sorry,” the other woman said. “For barging in. I didn’t realise you would be swimming.”
It was only then Rio realised she had failed to grab the towel to cover herself.
***
How tall are you?
Seriously? Agatha thought. She had already put all of this in her file, she didn’t understand why she needed to repeat herself to a fucking robot.
She let out a short huff, “Five-three.”
Where did you grow up?
“The Upper East Side, New York,” she replied flatly.
The screen's next question caught her completely off guard.
“Willing to relocate?” She stuttered.
How far was that? How far away would she be from him? She couldn’t leave him.
Agatha didn’t have a choice.
She swallowed the lump in her throat before saying a weak, “Yes.”
Tell us why you are the perfect agent.
This she answered easily. “I kill for sport. I’m the best gunman or woman to come out of the field in decades.”
A breakup that happened a year prior to Agatha sitting in a chair in a shoe box room in the FBI headquarters had landed her in this position. She had been so caught up in her own stupid emotions she royally fucked up. She shot the wrong person, a high-profile politician.
Her bosses had to bend over backwards to get her out of it. She had to go through multiple rounds of interrogations to confirm she wasn’t a foreign spy; she was forced into therapy to get her head straight and her gun license had been revoked until her bosses pushed for her to join The Smith’s Programme.
And now here she was.
She wouldn’t have chosen it, but it was the only way she would’ve been allowed back into the field. Agatha would rather die than go into any other occupation.
What was your major in college?
“Criminology with History,” Agatha said.
She rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head at the next question. “It’s in my fucking file.”
The screen continued to flash.
Agatha tipped her head back before answering, “I made a fatal mistake,” in a mocking tone.
***
Agatha arched a brow at the brownstone townhouse in front of her. She wasn’t a stranger to the architecture of the Upper Westside considering only Central Park separated her from this neighbourhood when she was growing up. When she was younger, she always used to wonder what it would be like to live in a multistorey house instead of the penthouse she was raised in.
Agatha shoved the memory of her past away, there was no need to open that can of worms right before she was about to start her new life.
She explored the house briefly, starting with the top floor and ending with the basement. As she made her way down in the elevator towards it, she was satisfied with the fact that she must be the first one there. That her future wife would join her later.
Agatha didn’t know how she felt about it, being married. She’d sworn off all relationships after the last one. But did it matter? They weren’t actually married, legally yes, emotionally and physically no.
…Well, she’d see about the physically part.
It wasn’t until she’d caught a glimpse of a figure behind the glass door to their swimming pool that Agatha realised, she was sorely mistaken. She in fact was not the first one to arrive.
Was that her wife?
She watched the woman emerge out of the pool. It looked straight out of a movie the way the water dripped off of her tanned skin, slid off her toned abs, smoothed over her dark hair.
Maybe this Smith’s Programme wasn’t so bad after all.
Agatha had to make sure her expression was void of all the swirling thoughts she had about the beautiful woman as brown wide eyes locked onto hers.
Shit.
Was she intruding? What a terrible first impression.
It was then Agatha got a good look at the woman’s face. It was even more beautiful than she had previously thought. Maybe her opticians were right, she should start wearing her glasses more often.
Agatha went to apologise before she noticed the woman staring at her chest.
She smirked before apologising anyway, “Sorry, for barging in. I didn’t realise you would be swimming.”
The other woman grabbed at the towel on the sunbed, hastily wrapping it around herself. Agatha turned away to afford her some privacy even though it was far too late for that.
“It’s okay,” the woman replied when she was appropriately covered.
“I’m Agatha,” she extended her arm out toward her.
“Rio,” Rio took Agatha’s hand, shaking it.
Rio, Agatha thought. It suits her.
Agatha couldn’t believe she was saying the words coming out of her mouth. “Did you want to get dressed? I’m pretty sure there is some stuff we need to sort out in the study, and we have to do the whole marriage thing.”
Rio nodded. “Erm…yeah. Meet you in the study in ten?”
“Course,” Agatha replied.
The other woman produced Agatha a warm smile before scurrying past her into the house.
Agatha didn’t miss the way Rio smelt as she ran past. Mixed with the undeniable scent of chlorine she smelt sandalwood, pine and vanilla. Agatha had to resist the urge to chase after Rio, grab her and sniff her.
She jerked her head back.
Hello? Had she not remembered the last time she fell in love? Agatha swore she would never do it again. But was wanting to sniff someone a sign of potential love? She didn’t think so, only mere lust. She’d only spoken five words to the woman.
Agatha made her way to the study on the third floor. Whilst she waited, she did a more in-depth survey of the place. She pushed hidden buttons that revealed arsons of weapons. She almost drooled at the different riffles. There was a bottle of a whisky Agatha knew cost a fortune because her father had it on display at the front of his alcohol cabinet which he only drank on special occasions.
She pulled it out of the velvet box it was placed in and pulled at the tag attached to the neck of the bottle.
“What does it say?” A voice came from behind her.
Agatha turned to see Rio, unfortunately, dressed in a dark brown tank top and sweatpants. Agatha tried to ignore the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra.
She cleared her throat, “It says, ‘Enjoy your first day of marriage.’”
Agatha peered into the box to find two gold wedding bands tucked away at the bottom. She retrieved them, setting the bottle down on the table before handing a ring to Rio.
The other woman nodded in response.
“And this must be the marriage certificate,” Rio pointed at the white sheet of paper on the desk closest to where she stood.
Rio walked over to it, eyeing Agatha to do the same.
Once at the table, the two women grabbed a pen each and signed.
It was done. They were married.
“Okay, great,” Agatha said, sliding her ring onto the rightful finger as if she had just agreed to go grocery shopping instead of legally attaching herself to a woman she didn’t know.
“I guess we’re married now,” Rio said awkwardly.
“Now don’t sound so disappointed,” Agatha teased.
She didn’t miss the way Rio tried to stifle her chuckle at her remark.
Agatha clicked at the laptop next to the marriage certificate and it whirled to life. The screen flashed white before it said:
Hihi, Mrs & Mrs Smith, congratulations on your marriage.
You are now ready for your first mission.
Rio wriggled her eyebrows, the first thing she did that seemed to genuinely showcase her personality. Agatha couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit excited at the possibility of getting to know this woman more.
“Are you ready, Mrs Smith?” Rio asked her.
Agatha smiled. “Always, Mrs Smith.”