Fic: Everything Or Nothing: 004
Dec. 28th, 2014 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mjartrodTitle: Everything Or Nothing
Author:
mcsparklez & mjartrod
Beta:mistake_arrest
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Belldom
Warnings: Language. Violence. Sex.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and has never happened. We do not own any of the people mentioned and do not mean to offend. We do not own Muse.
Summary: On the eve of Muse’s 7th album release, a list containing the identity of several Secret Intelligence Service officers is leaked and sold to a criminal organisation. Dom and Chris cannot understand their involvement… until a shocking revelation about their frontman is unveiled.
Authors' Notes: Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoy this ;)
Monte Carlo, Monaco
Saturday, 8th November
Dom stared outside as Matt slowly cruised the car around the square between Mercedes’, Porsches and even a gorgeous vintage Bentley which Dom was pretty sure was from sometime around the 1920s. As always, Monaco’s Place du Casino irradiated sumptuousness and opulence. At the far end of the square, with the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea as a backdrop, stood the Casino de Monte Carlo.
Dom couldn’t help but take a deep breath, a shudder running through his body at the thought of what would expect him that evening. Glancing aside at Matt, his companion seemed instead focused on scanning the area before finding a place for the car at the hotel’s underground car park. The Hotel de Paris stood right next to the Casino and was indeed the ideal location to spend the night if you wanted to gamble, at least for those who could afford it. He had stayed there a few times himself, the last one only a couple of months before with some mates while Matt had presumably been catching up with family on a break from recording sessions. Thinking about it now, he might as well have been travelling for the MI6.
Without bothering to check in, as that had conveniently already been taken care of, they took the lift from the majestic lobby together with other guests. Matt fiddled with the key card all the way while looking up at the ceiling. They got in before he quietly shut the door to their suite and - gun in hand - proceeded to do a quick scan of the area. Dom wondered, despite Matt having said that he usually didn’t need guns, how many times he had carried one into a hotel, on the tour bus, maybe even into a dressing room.
Just then Matt returned to the hall. “All clear.”
“You thought there could be someone here?”
“No, not really. But it doesn’t hurt to check.” He rubbed at his eyes harshly before removing the long coat and, for the first time since the whole thing began, Dom thought he looked tired.
Stepping forward at last into the suite after his bandmate, Dom realised they’d be staying at one of the most exclusive rooms of the hotel. Two bedrooms, a massive sitting area, all lavishly decorated 19th century style… Under different circumstances it would have been bliss.
He walked towards the large windows to get a peek outside. The balcony had the perfect view; overlooking the Place du Casino, the room had not been chosen at random. He left Matt on one of the sofas, taking his boots off, and took a tour through the suite. His eyebrows shot up when he walked into one of the bedrooms and found something on top of the bed that he was quite sure wasn’t part of the amenities included.
“Matt.” He returned to the living area, hands on his hips. “There’s a tuxedo laid out on the bed.”
“That’s mine, yours is in the other bedroom.” The singer was sprawled on the sofa, head propped on the armrest, legs crossed at the ankles as he typed away on his phone. “And yeah, it’s your size.”
Dom stopped himself from rolling his eyes at that, a small smile creeping on his lips. Didn’t take a genius to find out how they knew his size. A change of clothes was in order for sure - he looked a right mess - but a tuxedo was maybe a little too much. Nobody would boot them out of the private rooms at the Casino if they wore a simple dinner jacket.
He showered before they went downstairs to get something to eat, discovering that beside the tuxedo, he also had another change of clothes arranged for him - a pair of black skinnies and a grey top that he was sure had been taken from his case in Zurich.
The restaurants were no longer serving lunch so they opted for ordering some food at the bar. Matt remained abnormally quiet and Dom began to wonder if, in addition to the whole operation ahead of them, it was also uneasiness from being found out by Chris and him eating at him more than he was letting on. Whatever it was, it obviously didn’t interfere with his appetite as he had devoured his club sandwich already. He kept fidgeting in his chair too, as was his habit, and tapped his fingers on the table while his eyes roamed the hall as if it was the first time he’d been at Le Bar Américain.
It wasn’t, though, and suddenly it dawned on him that there was a reason why Matt had insisted on going downstairs instead of ordering room service. He’d wanted to keep an eye on what was happening at ground level. Dom – or anyone who knew Matt, really – would never suspect anything like that because his behaviour was not in any way unlike what they were used to. Matt signalled to the waitress and Dom recalled how easily he recognised a face or fans from previous encounters. It probably wasn’t a coincidence or a random Bellamy thing either but rather a skill.
“So what time do we need to be there?” Dom asked and Matt’s head whipped around to him. It seemed as if the last thing he had expected was for Dom to address him directly.
He cleared his throat and wiped at his nose before he replied, “We’ll be coming down for dinner at eight and then we leave to the Casino,” he said. “You can take a nap if you want to, I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of but I won’t leave the room.”
Dom nodded. Despite the anxiety, he was thankful for the chance to sleep for a bit. Matt probably wanted to check out the restaurants at night and that was why they didn’t go straight to the casino. He chuckled and looked up to find Matt staring at him. He was probably dying to ask him what he was laughing about.
“It’s a bit funny, isn’t it?” Dom ended up saying aloud.
“What? What is?”
“The two of us going for dinner in Monte Carlo in a tux.” He snorted before he softly added, “It’s all a bit James Bond, isn’t it? Or is it the other way around?”
“No, this is a bit Bond like, yeah.” The brunet actually smiled at that.
“Is your contact… Do you call her M, too?”
Matt grinned and waved a hand around. “Yeah but only ‘cos it happens to be her name initial and she fancies being called that way. They usually go by C.”
Dom laughed. The whole thing still seemed so surreal. “Do you...” He hesitated but he thought he’d earned the right to ask questions. “Does the 00 agent figure exist after all? Is that what you are?”
He needed for Matt to confirm it. Which he did with a simple nod of his head.
“Holy shit,” Dom breathed. All of a sudden he was feeling quite excited about this. “Do you have a code name too?” He sensed Matt’s reluctance and regretted the question immediately as he imagined it was top classified information that Matt wasn’t supposed to share. “Look you don’t have to if-“
“I do. I have to, they don’t know my name.” He looked at him straight in the eye, his voice barely a whisper, his cheeks tinted soft pink. Was he embarrassed? “MB-7.”
Dom blinked. “You mean... spelled out like the guitar.”
“Yeah.” He was definitely blushing now.
“Blimey.”
A waitress showed up then to pick up their plates and Matt stood up to leave, Dom uttering his codename under his breath with a small smile.MB-7.
Dom rolled onto his back, the mattress so comfortable underneath his body, and opened his eyes grudgingly. The events of the past day came rushing back to him and his stomach contracted with nerves. He was in Monaco with Matt, in what was one of the most surreal and possibly dangerous things he’d ever done in his life. Which, considering everything he’d experienced - perks of being a rock star and all - was no small feat at all.
It was already dark outside, but light spilled in through the windows from the prestigious square below. He checked his watch. Seven. His bedroom door was barely closed and he couldn’t hear a thing from outside. Matt had promised not to leave the room, so maybe he was resting too. He missed sharing the bed with him. They always had to book separate rooms, but more often than not, one of them would end up joining the other.
He got up to get dressed, looking at himself in the mirror as he fixed his bow tie over his white shirt. He couldn’t for the life of him recall when was the last time he’d been required to wear something so formal and without a personal touch. Even Matt had been in a tuxedo more frequently, at an event here and there with one of his previous girlfriends. And he’d looked smoking hot too... His fingers paused in their task at the memory of other, happier times.
Things had been better at the bar earlier, he had to admit. Being around Matt had felt more comfortable and familiar, closer to how it had always been. Maybe once this was all over - and he had to believe it would all be over soon - they could go back to how it used to be after all. Matt had succeeded living a double life without any of them suspecting. Maybe it would turn out for the best that he was now forced to stop keeping secrets from them. It was only him and Chris who had found out anyway, and they wouldn’t rat him out.
Suddenly filled with overwhelming positivity, he quietly left the bedroom to see where Matt was. They were in for a difficult night, both of them, and not only he had no choice but to trust Matt wholeheartedly, but he also had to give it his best shot himself. When it was over, there would be a new challenge to be faced. The future could wait until then.
Matt was not in the sitting area and his bedroom door was closed. Dom already had his hand raised to knock, when he heard his voice on the other side.
“Yeah, well, the Foreign Secretary can fuck right off for all I care. He’d be better off dealing with the corporate lobbies making deals under his nose, selling weaponry to African terrorist cells than talking shit about what I’m doing.”
Dom let his jaw drop. Eavesdropping was never a good idea but he found himself rooted to the spot.
“Of course I bloody know that. Do you think there’s any alternative? Well, I don’t.” A pause. “Why would it make any difference?” Matt hissed, more irritated if possible. “What does it matter that I know him? As if it’s the first time that I’m acquainted with a target.”
Dom stepped back slightly. Acquainted? Surely he couldn’t be talking about Dom, as he was quite sure he and Matt were a bit more than acquainted?
“So what? Do you think it means anything?” He lowered his voice to a mere whisper; Dom could barely hear him now and he was just outside the door. “He’s in the band and he’s part of the operation now. We’ve always worked well together and that’s it. That’s what he is and no more than that.”
Blood chilled in his veins. Dom had swallowed his pride many times and had taken a lot of shit from Matt over the years but this was something else. Not only he’d found out barely twenty four hours before that they’d been betrayed half their lives by who they considered one of their best mates, as if they were not trustworthy enough to be told at the very least that he worked for the government, he was also discovering how apparently Matt really felt about their relationship. He was undoubtedly referring to him in conversation with that M person and Matt had no qualms about refuting the idea that he had any personal attachment to Dom, to put it mildly.
He’d assumed for a long time that Matt’s reluctance to enter a relationship with him had to do with being uncomfortable with his sexual preferences. Unlike Dom, who had confided in their closest friends, Matt hadn’t told anyone he was gay, or at least bi. They’d been on and off for so long, in between girlfriends, when single... When they finally decided to commit to each other - about six months ago - they had agreed not to tell anyone mostly because Matt hadn’t wanted to. And now, he was telling his boss at the MI6, the only person who probably knew all there was to know about him, that Dom was no more than simply a co-worker. No wonder he’d been so quiet all day. The charade was over, he didn’t need to play house with Dom anymore.
Dom wished he could say it didn’t hurt. But it did. A lot.
He had actually allowed himself to believe that his safety was Matt’s top priority. Clearly it had been another lie. Above all, it seemed like Matt treasured his work and his status the most. He wanted to retrieve that list; he was determined to find whoever was trying to take a hit at him, to out him without realising how, ironically, he might not need to worry about that in the future. How could Muse carry on when they didn’t trust each other, when so much was shrouded in lies and deception?
He went back to his bedroom as quietly as possible, grabbed his suit jacket and slipped into it as he put his shoes on. He desperately needed a drink. He’d go to the Casino alright, but on his own. And Matt would do best to not even attempt to get close to him.
Why did it all have to be so complicated?
Matt tossed his phone on the bed and raked his hands through his hair, trying to cool down. He was used to pressure. The deadlines, the risks, the little to no room for failure... he took it all in his stride. It was part of the job. But this case was edging on bringing him to a minor nervous breakdown. He had yet to determine what was tormenting him the most: the fact that Dom was sucked into the world from which he’d tried so hard to protect him from or the certainty that it was his own fault that it was happening in the first place.
Outside, there was a small click of a door being shut. Seemed as though Dom was finally awake, right on schedule. Heading out to check on him, hoping he'd gotten a good rest, Matt stalled when he found the other bedroom’s door left ajar. The bathroom was empty; the tuxedo, shoes and his phone were gone.
He ran to the front door, skidding on the floor in socked feet, but there was no one near the lifts. It was too late. Back inside the suite he hurried to the balcony and leaned on the railing. Just as he had feared, Dom was marching to the Casino on his own.
Covering his eyes with his hands for a moment, he kicked one of the chairs, which didn’t gain him much except a sore toe. He couldn’t believe his luck.
Dom had heard him on the phone, there was no other explanation. He had heard what Matt had told M about their relationship and, of course, misunderstood everything. Considering everything the drummer was getting shoved his way, Matt not only couldn’t blame him, he also couldn’t exactly go up to him now and explain himself. The moment was ill-timed to say the least. Dom would clock him in the face at the first opportunity and the last thing they needed now was to make a scene. He cautiously thought they'd been making some progress during the day and now it had all become even worse.
He’d wondered many times throughout the years about which way would be the best to tell Dom and Chris about his work for the MI6. He’d been so close to blurt everything out on one occasion or two, after a particularly difficult operation or when struck by extreme guilt after lying to Dom. And every time he’d changed his mind, afraid of their reactions, afraid of the consequences. Out of all the ways to come clean with them, though, there weren’t many worse than this one. All his fears, all the restrictions and the sacrifices he'd made... it had all gone to waste. Just when he was beginning to believe that - in addition to the band - he could also have a proper, meaningful relationship with someone who meant everything to him, it was all going tits up, everything crashing down on him.
What more could possibly go wrong tonight? Earlier, the Foreign Secretary dared to question Dom's loyalty despite Matt's assurances and firm belief that this had little to do with his bandmate. Then M had questioned his ability to remain detached, reminding him he had to make his decisions as dispassionately as possible... Resorting to the use of a lie to refute her doubts seemed to have backfired on him spectacularly, right when he had to go downstairs for what was one of the most important operations in his life – to clear Dom's name – and he could no longer count on the drummer’s support and full cooperation.
Whoever set this up knew what they were doing. One step behind, Matt had been bound to do what they expected him to do, which was to take Dom to Monte Carlo so he could be given the file. It was still their best shot at identifying the responsible party behind all this, even though it disgusted him to put Dom through such an ordeal. Matt was convinced there was a mole within the MI6, someone who held a grudge against him, and whether she'd say it aloud or not, he was sure M agreed with him and was even taking the necessary precautions.
He was going to find them and whoever they were, he’d make them regret ever daring to involve Dom in this.
“Rien ne va plus.”
The croupier announced the players could no longer place bets while Dom took another sip of his whisky. His eyes, like everyone’s at the table and around it, riveted on the ball that made its last two rounds on the roulette wheel. “Oh”s and “ah”s filled the air when the winning number was announced.
He didn’t usually care for European Roulette and he wasn’t in the mood to gamble. He had simply wandered around aimlessly for a while before he had stopped next to one of the most popular tables in the private rooms at the Casino. It was full and, remarkably, he didn’t even feel out of place in a tuxedo. The exotic brunette who had sneakily stolen a couple of glances his way had won another wager, this time on a 8 to 1 bet, and he raised his glass in salute. Her lips curved in a slightly enigmatic smile and he winked at her. She was ridiculously beautiful, with blue almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones and dark brown hair that fell straight down her shoulders, a few hairpins keeping the strands on one side of her head behind her ear.
When she stood up from the table, revealing her full statuesque figure in the deep crimson dress she donned, he wondered whether she was going to feign disinterest and wait for him to make a move or if she was going to approach him herself. It seemed to be the latter.
“Nicely played.” He smiled at her.
“Best to leave before my luck runs out.” She had a light French accent and a deeper voice than he had expected. “You don’t play?”
“Not my lucky night, unfortunately.”
“You never know.” Her eyes travelled down his body and then up again. “I’m Vivienne.”
“I’m Dominic, pleasure to meet you.”
A few tables away, Matt stood up with his glass to follow the pair to the bar, trying not to lose his focus on the surrounding patrons. It was hard enough having to avoid talking to Dom; he knew the drummer didn’t want to see him. Watching him flirt with one of the players at the table, however - no matter how predictable given the circumstances - was beyond maddening. He hadn’t decided on how to intervene once Dom would show signs of wanting to leave with someone, which he would surely do sooner or later. Currently, the woman in red seemed to be the one in the leading position.
“I wouldn’t hold out much hope if I were you.”
The waiter from whom Matt ordered another drink broke through his thoughts, placing his glass on the counter in front of him.
“What’s that?”
“That woman you’re looking at.” The waiter motioned with his chin towards her discreetly. “She’s rejected every guy who tried to chat her up; she only wanted his attention. You should try your luck with someone else.”
“Right.” Matt smiled. “Thanks for the advice.”
The waiter winked. “Drink’s on the house.”
“Thanks, man.”
He grabbed his phone and walked out, careful to not be caught when he zoomed in on her with the camera. Women who wanted Dom’s attention were nothing new. Women who only wanted Dom’s attention, especially tonight, could definitely be sign for alarm. He put the phone to his ear and placed a call.
“It’s me,” he whispered. “Just sent you a picture. I need Q to run a scan and try to find out as much as he can about her.”
“Did she try to establish contact with the target?” M asked.
“They’re having a drink at the bar, so I’d say she’s already succeeded.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I saw her earlier at the hotel too, she had a keycard and she’s pretty much been waiting for him.”
Regardless of her real motives, he could tell Dom was struggling to keep his eyes off her cleavage and her thigh, the slit on her dress revealing impossibly long legs. His free hand balled up into a fist.
“This will take a few minutes, we’re going to use the facial recognition software and look through our database of known agents worldwide,”Matt heard Q telling M in the background.
“MB-7, is this our trader?” M inquired.
Matt inhaled. “I don’t know yet.”
As his gaze swept the room again, he met a man’s stare near one of the doors. The bald man quickly looked away and then towards the general direction of the bar, before slowly turning around to leave. He had an earpiece on.
“We’re being watched. Not just Dominic but me as well. I’m going after him, I’ll call you back.”
He disconnected and made his way across the room as inconspicuously as possible. He spared a last glance at Dom and the woman to confirm the accuracy of their position on the casino map on his phone, provided by the hidden GPS tracker built into Dom’s fake device. Hopefully the blond wouldn’t get into any trouble.
When Vivienne not-so-subtly suggested someplace else for a bit more privacy, Dom didn’t think twice about following her. He couldn’t care less about the operation at the moment and if Matt and the MI6 were so worried about that list, then they should be the ones to bother to retrieve it. And as for the rest, after what he’d heard out of pure luck, it wasn’t like leaving with someone else would upset his bandmate, was it? Right now he only cared about taking his mind off things.
It all escalated quickly and by the time the two reached her room at the Hotel de Paris, her mouth had latched onto his and their hands were roaming over each other’s bodies. Any regrets that Dom might have had, had evaporated. The door swung open, and they nearly fell over, Dom barely managing to stay on his feet. Another surge of pleasure shot through his body at the feeling of her breasts tightly pressed against his chest and almost spilling out of her dress.
She kicked back to shut the door and promptly led him to the bedroom area without switching the lights on. She pushed Dom’s jacket down his shoulders and undid the bow tie, moving to the buttons next, while he looked for the zip of her dress on one side of her body underneath her arm. He slowly pulled it down, breaking the kiss to step back for a moment. The lower half of the gown slid down her body, the silky fabric pooling on the floor at her feet, leaving her in nothing but heels, a garter belt and the crimson corset. It’d been so long since he’d last been with a woman.
“Do you like what you see?”
“How couldn’t I?” He chuckled.
She advanced on him again, the sway of her hips tantalizing with each step. “Do you want... more?” she whispered against his lips, her French accent driving him crazy.
“Everything.”
Her skin was like fire when he placed his hands on her narrow waist, pulling her warm body to his, lips reaching for her neck. Suddenly, she shoved him in the chest surprisingly hard and he fell on the mattress behind him.
Crawling on top of him with a smirk like a feline, she straddled him, forcing him to lie down and forbidding him to touch her by forcing his wrists down against the mattress above his head.
“You will get everything, Mr. Dominic Howard... everything that you deserve.”
Too much happened at once and Dom was hit with both arousal and alarm. It wasn’t just the handcuffs suddenly clasped around his wrists or the unexpected change in her accent that he couldn’t place straight away or the look of pure cruelty stamped across her face. How did she know his last name? Something told him this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
Matt consulted his iPhone screen again, confirming that Dom had remained in the same spot. At least that because, unfortunately, the man he’d followed had vanished into thin air. Whoever he was, his presence was relevant and the fact that he’d disappeared so easily only supported that theory. He was about to report on his progress when he saw that they were calling him back.
“MB-7, where are you?”
“Still in the casino, bloody lost him.” He was just entering the private room where he’d left Dom. He frowned when he realized they weren’t there. He checked his phone again and approached the location the GPS tracker indicated as the position, his heart dropping when he picked up Dom’s phone lying abandoned on the floor near the table.
“We found her. She’s Ekaterina Ivanova Orlova, an associate of Sokolov’s.”
“Wait.” Matt’s heart skipped a beat. “She’s-”
“- Katya, precisely. The professional killer.”
Author:
mcsparklez & mjartrodBeta:
mistake_arrestRating: NC-17
Pairing: Belldom
Warnings: Language. Violence. Sex.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and has never happened. We do not own any of the people mentioned and do not mean to offend. We do not own Muse.
Summary: On the eve of Muse’s 7th album release, a list containing the identity of several Secret Intelligence Service officers is leaked and sold to a criminal organisation. Dom and Chris cannot understand their involvement… until a shocking revelation about their frontman is unveiled.
Authors' Notes: Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoy this ;)
[001] [002] [003]
Monte Carlo, Monaco
Saturday, 8th November
Dom stared outside as Matt slowly cruised the car around the square between Mercedes’, Porsches and even a gorgeous vintage Bentley which Dom was pretty sure was from sometime around the 1920s. As always, Monaco’s Place du Casino irradiated sumptuousness and opulence. At the far end of the square, with the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea as a backdrop, stood the Casino de Monte Carlo.
Dom couldn’t help but take a deep breath, a shudder running through his body at the thought of what would expect him that evening. Glancing aside at Matt, his companion seemed instead focused on scanning the area before finding a place for the car at the hotel’s underground car park. The Hotel de Paris stood right next to the Casino and was indeed the ideal location to spend the night if you wanted to gamble, at least for those who could afford it. He had stayed there a few times himself, the last one only a couple of months before with some mates while Matt had presumably been catching up with family on a break from recording sessions. Thinking about it now, he might as well have been travelling for the MI6.
Without bothering to check in, as that had conveniently already been taken care of, they took the lift from the majestic lobby together with other guests. Matt fiddled with the key card all the way while looking up at the ceiling. They got in before he quietly shut the door to their suite and - gun in hand - proceeded to do a quick scan of the area. Dom wondered, despite Matt having said that he usually didn’t need guns, how many times he had carried one into a hotel, on the tour bus, maybe even into a dressing room.
Just then Matt returned to the hall. “All clear.”
“You thought there could be someone here?”
“No, not really. But it doesn’t hurt to check.” He rubbed at his eyes harshly before removing the long coat and, for the first time since the whole thing began, Dom thought he looked tired.
Stepping forward at last into the suite after his bandmate, Dom realised they’d be staying at one of the most exclusive rooms of the hotel. Two bedrooms, a massive sitting area, all lavishly decorated 19th century style… Under different circumstances it would have been bliss.
He walked towards the large windows to get a peek outside. The balcony had the perfect view; overlooking the Place du Casino, the room had not been chosen at random. He left Matt on one of the sofas, taking his boots off, and took a tour through the suite. His eyebrows shot up when he walked into one of the bedrooms and found something on top of the bed that he was quite sure wasn’t part of the amenities included.
“Matt.” He returned to the living area, hands on his hips. “There’s a tuxedo laid out on the bed.”
“That’s mine, yours is in the other bedroom.” The singer was sprawled on the sofa, head propped on the armrest, legs crossed at the ankles as he typed away on his phone. “And yeah, it’s your size.”
Dom stopped himself from rolling his eyes at that, a small smile creeping on his lips. Didn’t take a genius to find out how they knew his size. A change of clothes was in order for sure - he looked a right mess - but a tuxedo was maybe a little too much. Nobody would boot them out of the private rooms at the Casino if they wore a simple dinner jacket.
He showered before they went downstairs to get something to eat, discovering that beside the tuxedo, he also had another change of clothes arranged for him - a pair of black skinnies and a grey top that he was sure had been taken from his case in Zurich.
The restaurants were no longer serving lunch so they opted for ordering some food at the bar. Matt remained abnormally quiet and Dom began to wonder if, in addition to the whole operation ahead of them, it was also uneasiness from being found out by Chris and him eating at him more than he was letting on. Whatever it was, it obviously didn’t interfere with his appetite as he had devoured his club sandwich already. He kept fidgeting in his chair too, as was his habit, and tapped his fingers on the table while his eyes roamed the hall as if it was the first time he’d been at Le Bar Américain.
It wasn’t, though, and suddenly it dawned on him that there was a reason why Matt had insisted on going downstairs instead of ordering room service. He’d wanted to keep an eye on what was happening at ground level. Dom – or anyone who knew Matt, really – would never suspect anything like that because his behaviour was not in any way unlike what they were used to. Matt signalled to the waitress and Dom recalled how easily he recognised a face or fans from previous encounters. It probably wasn’t a coincidence or a random Bellamy thing either but rather a skill.
“So what time do we need to be there?” Dom asked and Matt’s head whipped around to him. It seemed as if the last thing he had expected was for Dom to address him directly.
He cleared his throat and wiped at his nose before he replied, “We’ll be coming down for dinner at eight and then we leave to the Casino,” he said. “You can take a nap if you want to, I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of but I won’t leave the room.”
Dom nodded. Despite the anxiety, he was thankful for the chance to sleep for a bit. Matt probably wanted to check out the restaurants at night and that was why they didn’t go straight to the casino. He chuckled and looked up to find Matt staring at him. He was probably dying to ask him what he was laughing about.
“It’s a bit funny, isn’t it?” Dom ended up saying aloud.
“What? What is?”
“The two of us going for dinner in Monte Carlo in a tux.” He snorted before he softly added, “It’s all a bit James Bond, isn’t it? Or is it the other way around?”
“No, this is a bit Bond like, yeah.” The brunet actually smiled at that.
“Is your contact… Do you call her M, too?”
Matt grinned and waved a hand around. “Yeah but only ‘cos it happens to be her name initial and she fancies being called that way. They usually go by C.”
Dom laughed. The whole thing still seemed so surreal. “Do you...” He hesitated but he thought he’d earned the right to ask questions. “Does the 00 agent figure exist after all? Is that what you are?”
He needed for Matt to confirm it. Which he did with a simple nod of his head.
“Holy shit,” Dom breathed. All of a sudden he was feeling quite excited about this. “Do you have a code name too?” He sensed Matt’s reluctance and regretted the question immediately as he imagined it was top classified information that Matt wasn’t supposed to share. “Look you don’t have to if-“
“I do. I have to, they don’t know my name.” He looked at him straight in the eye, his voice barely a whisper, his cheeks tinted soft pink. Was he embarrassed? “MB-7.”
Dom blinked. “You mean... spelled out like the guitar.”
“Yeah.” He was definitely blushing now.
“Blimey.”
A waitress showed up then to pick up their plates and Matt stood up to leave, Dom uttering his codename under his breath with a small smile.MB-7.
***
Dom rolled onto his back, the mattress so comfortable underneath his body, and opened his eyes grudgingly. The events of the past day came rushing back to him and his stomach contracted with nerves. He was in Monaco with Matt, in what was one of the most surreal and possibly dangerous things he’d ever done in his life. Which, considering everything he’d experienced - perks of being a rock star and all - was no small feat at all.
It was already dark outside, but light spilled in through the windows from the prestigious square below. He checked his watch. Seven. His bedroom door was barely closed and he couldn’t hear a thing from outside. Matt had promised not to leave the room, so maybe he was resting too. He missed sharing the bed with him. They always had to book separate rooms, but more often than not, one of them would end up joining the other.
He got up to get dressed, looking at himself in the mirror as he fixed his bow tie over his white shirt. He couldn’t for the life of him recall when was the last time he’d been required to wear something so formal and without a personal touch. Even Matt had been in a tuxedo more frequently, at an event here and there with one of his previous girlfriends. And he’d looked smoking hot too... His fingers paused in their task at the memory of other, happier times.
Things had been better at the bar earlier, he had to admit. Being around Matt had felt more comfortable and familiar, closer to how it had always been. Maybe once this was all over - and he had to believe it would all be over soon - they could go back to how it used to be after all. Matt had succeeded living a double life without any of them suspecting. Maybe it would turn out for the best that he was now forced to stop keeping secrets from them. It was only him and Chris who had found out anyway, and they wouldn’t rat him out.
Suddenly filled with overwhelming positivity, he quietly left the bedroom to see where Matt was. They were in for a difficult night, both of them, and not only he had no choice but to trust Matt wholeheartedly, but he also had to give it his best shot himself. When it was over, there would be a new challenge to be faced. The future could wait until then.
Matt was not in the sitting area and his bedroom door was closed. Dom already had his hand raised to knock, when he heard his voice on the other side.
“Yeah, well, the Foreign Secretary can fuck right off for all I care. He’d be better off dealing with the corporate lobbies making deals under his nose, selling weaponry to African terrorist cells than talking shit about what I’m doing.”
Dom let his jaw drop. Eavesdropping was never a good idea but he found himself rooted to the spot.
“Of course I bloody know that. Do you think there’s any alternative? Well, I don’t.” A pause. “Why would it make any difference?” Matt hissed, more irritated if possible. “What does it matter that I know him? As if it’s the first time that I’m acquainted with a target.”
Dom stepped back slightly. Acquainted? Surely he couldn’t be talking about Dom, as he was quite sure he and Matt were a bit more than acquainted?
“So what? Do you think it means anything?” He lowered his voice to a mere whisper; Dom could barely hear him now and he was just outside the door. “He’s in the band and he’s part of the operation now. We’ve always worked well together and that’s it. That’s what he is and no more than that.”
Blood chilled in his veins. Dom had swallowed his pride many times and had taken a lot of shit from Matt over the years but this was something else. Not only he’d found out barely twenty four hours before that they’d been betrayed half their lives by who they considered one of their best mates, as if they were not trustworthy enough to be told at the very least that he worked for the government, he was also discovering how apparently Matt really felt about their relationship. He was undoubtedly referring to him in conversation with that M person and Matt had no qualms about refuting the idea that he had any personal attachment to Dom, to put it mildly.
He’d assumed for a long time that Matt’s reluctance to enter a relationship with him had to do with being uncomfortable with his sexual preferences. Unlike Dom, who had confided in their closest friends, Matt hadn’t told anyone he was gay, or at least bi. They’d been on and off for so long, in between girlfriends, when single... When they finally decided to commit to each other - about six months ago - they had agreed not to tell anyone mostly because Matt hadn’t wanted to. And now, he was telling his boss at the MI6, the only person who probably knew all there was to know about him, that Dom was no more than simply a co-worker. No wonder he’d been so quiet all day. The charade was over, he didn’t need to play house with Dom anymore.
Dom wished he could say it didn’t hurt. But it did. A lot.
He had actually allowed himself to believe that his safety was Matt’s top priority. Clearly it had been another lie. Above all, it seemed like Matt treasured his work and his status the most. He wanted to retrieve that list; he was determined to find whoever was trying to take a hit at him, to out him without realising how, ironically, he might not need to worry about that in the future. How could Muse carry on when they didn’t trust each other, when so much was shrouded in lies and deception?
He went back to his bedroom as quietly as possible, grabbed his suit jacket and slipped into it as he put his shoes on. He desperately needed a drink. He’d go to the Casino alright, but on his own. And Matt would do best to not even attempt to get close to him.
***
Why did it all have to be so complicated?
Matt tossed his phone on the bed and raked his hands through his hair, trying to cool down. He was used to pressure. The deadlines, the risks, the little to no room for failure... he took it all in his stride. It was part of the job. But this case was edging on bringing him to a minor nervous breakdown. He had yet to determine what was tormenting him the most: the fact that Dom was sucked into the world from which he’d tried so hard to protect him from or the certainty that it was his own fault that it was happening in the first place.
Outside, there was a small click of a door being shut. Seemed as though Dom was finally awake, right on schedule. Heading out to check on him, hoping he'd gotten a good rest, Matt stalled when he found the other bedroom’s door left ajar. The bathroom was empty; the tuxedo, shoes and his phone were gone.
He ran to the front door, skidding on the floor in socked feet, but there was no one near the lifts. It was too late. Back inside the suite he hurried to the balcony and leaned on the railing. Just as he had feared, Dom was marching to the Casino on his own.
Covering his eyes with his hands for a moment, he kicked one of the chairs, which didn’t gain him much except a sore toe. He couldn’t believe his luck.
Dom had heard him on the phone, there was no other explanation. He had heard what Matt had told M about their relationship and, of course, misunderstood everything. Considering everything the drummer was getting shoved his way, Matt not only couldn’t blame him, he also couldn’t exactly go up to him now and explain himself. The moment was ill-timed to say the least. Dom would clock him in the face at the first opportunity and the last thing they needed now was to make a scene. He cautiously thought they'd been making some progress during the day and now it had all become even worse.
He’d wondered many times throughout the years about which way would be the best to tell Dom and Chris about his work for the MI6. He’d been so close to blurt everything out on one occasion or two, after a particularly difficult operation or when struck by extreme guilt after lying to Dom. And every time he’d changed his mind, afraid of their reactions, afraid of the consequences. Out of all the ways to come clean with them, though, there weren’t many worse than this one. All his fears, all the restrictions and the sacrifices he'd made... it had all gone to waste. Just when he was beginning to believe that - in addition to the band - he could also have a proper, meaningful relationship with someone who meant everything to him, it was all going tits up, everything crashing down on him.
What more could possibly go wrong tonight? Earlier, the Foreign Secretary dared to question Dom's loyalty despite Matt's assurances and firm belief that this had little to do with his bandmate. Then M had questioned his ability to remain detached, reminding him he had to make his decisions as dispassionately as possible... Resorting to the use of a lie to refute her doubts seemed to have backfired on him spectacularly, right when he had to go downstairs for what was one of the most important operations in his life – to clear Dom's name – and he could no longer count on the drummer’s support and full cooperation.
Whoever set this up knew what they were doing. One step behind, Matt had been bound to do what they expected him to do, which was to take Dom to Monte Carlo so he could be given the file. It was still their best shot at identifying the responsible party behind all this, even though it disgusted him to put Dom through such an ordeal. Matt was convinced there was a mole within the MI6, someone who held a grudge against him, and whether she'd say it aloud or not, he was sure M agreed with him and was even taking the necessary precautions.
He was going to find them and whoever they were, he’d make them regret ever daring to involve Dom in this.
***
“Rien ne va plus.”
The croupier announced the players could no longer place bets while Dom took another sip of his whisky. His eyes, like everyone’s at the table and around it, riveted on the ball that made its last two rounds on the roulette wheel. “Oh”s and “ah”s filled the air when the winning number was announced.
He didn’t usually care for European Roulette and he wasn’t in the mood to gamble. He had simply wandered around aimlessly for a while before he had stopped next to one of the most popular tables in the private rooms at the Casino. It was full and, remarkably, he didn’t even feel out of place in a tuxedo. The exotic brunette who had sneakily stolen a couple of glances his way had won another wager, this time on a 8 to 1 bet, and he raised his glass in salute. Her lips curved in a slightly enigmatic smile and he winked at her. She was ridiculously beautiful, with blue almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones and dark brown hair that fell straight down her shoulders, a few hairpins keeping the strands on one side of her head behind her ear.
When she stood up from the table, revealing her full statuesque figure in the deep crimson dress she donned, he wondered whether she was going to feign disinterest and wait for him to make a move or if she was going to approach him herself. It seemed to be the latter.
“Nicely played.” He smiled at her.
“Best to leave before my luck runs out.” She had a light French accent and a deeper voice than he had expected. “You don’t play?”
“Not my lucky night, unfortunately.”
“You never know.” Her eyes travelled down his body and then up again. “I’m Vivienne.”
“I’m Dominic, pleasure to meet you.”
A few tables away, Matt stood up with his glass to follow the pair to the bar, trying not to lose his focus on the surrounding patrons. It was hard enough having to avoid talking to Dom; he knew the drummer didn’t want to see him. Watching him flirt with one of the players at the table, however - no matter how predictable given the circumstances - was beyond maddening. He hadn’t decided on how to intervene once Dom would show signs of wanting to leave with someone, which he would surely do sooner or later. Currently, the woman in red seemed to be the one in the leading position.
“I wouldn’t hold out much hope if I were you.”
The waiter from whom Matt ordered another drink broke through his thoughts, placing his glass on the counter in front of him.
“What’s that?”
“That woman you’re looking at.” The waiter motioned with his chin towards her discreetly. “She’s rejected every guy who tried to chat her up; she only wanted his attention. You should try your luck with someone else.”
“Right.” Matt smiled. “Thanks for the advice.”
The waiter winked. “Drink’s on the house.”
“Thanks, man.”
He grabbed his phone and walked out, careful to not be caught when he zoomed in on her with the camera. Women who wanted Dom’s attention were nothing new. Women who only wanted Dom’s attention, especially tonight, could definitely be sign for alarm. He put the phone to his ear and placed a call.
“It’s me,” he whispered. “Just sent you a picture. I need Q to run a scan and try to find out as much as he can about her.”
“Did she try to establish contact with the target?” M asked.
“They’re having a drink at the bar, so I’d say she’s already succeeded.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I saw her earlier at the hotel too, she had a keycard and she’s pretty much been waiting for him.”
Regardless of her real motives, he could tell Dom was struggling to keep his eyes off her cleavage and her thigh, the slit on her dress revealing impossibly long legs. His free hand balled up into a fist.
“This will take a few minutes, we’re going to use the facial recognition software and look through our database of known agents worldwide,”Matt heard Q telling M in the background.
“MB-7, is this our trader?” M inquired.
Matt inhaled. “I don’t know yet.”
As his gaze swept the room again, he met a man’s stare near one of the doors. The bald man quickly looked away and then towards the general direction of the bar, before slowly turning around to leave. He had an earpiece on.
“We’re being watched. Not just Dominic but me as well. I’m going after him, I’ll call you back.”
He disconnected and made his way across the room as inconspicuously as possible. He spared a last glance at Dom and the woman to confirm the accuracy of their position on the casino map on his phone, provided by the hidden GPS tracker built into Dom’s fake device. Hopefully the blond wouldn’t get into any trouble.
***
When Vivienne not-so-subtly suggested someplace else for a bit more privacy, Dom didn’t think twice about following her. He couldn’t care less about the operation at the moment and if Matt and the MI6 were so worried about that list, then they should be the ones to bother to retrieve it. And as for the rest, after what he’d heard out of pure luck, it wasn’t like leaving with someone else would upset his bandmate, was it? Right now he only cared about taking his mind off things.
It all escalated quickly and by the time the two reached her room at the Hotel de Paris, her mouth had latched onto his and their hands were roaming over each other’s bodies. Any regrets that Dom might have had, had evaporated. The door swung open, and they nearly fell over, Dom barely managing to stay on his feet. Another surge of pleasure shot through his body at the feeling of her breasts tightly pressed against his chest and almost spilling out of her dress.
She kicked back to shut the door and promptly led him to the bedroom area without switching the lights on. She pushed Dom’s jacket down his shoulders and undid the bow tie, moving to the buttons next, while he looked for the zip of her dress on one side of her body underneath her arm. He slowly pulled it down, breaking the kiss to step back for a moment. The lower half of the gown slid down her body, the silky fabric pooling on the floor at her feet, leaving her in nothing but heels, a garter belt and the crimson corset. It’d been so long since he’d last been with a woman.
“Do you like what you see?”
“How couldn’t I?” He chuckled.
She advanced on him again, the sway of her hips tantalizing with each step. “Do you want... more?” she whispered against his lips, her French accent driving him crazy.
“Everything.”
Her skin was like fire when he placed his hands on her narrow waist, pulling her warm body to his, lips reaching for her neck. Suddenly, she shoved him in the chest surprisingly hard and he fell on the mattress behind him.
Crawling on top of him with a smirk like a feline, she straddled him, forcing him to lie down and forbidding him to touch her by forcing his wrists down against the mattress above his head.
“You will get everything, Mr. Dominic Howard... everything that you deserve.”
Too much happened at once and Dom was hit with both arousal and alarm. It wasn’t just the handcuffs suddenly clasped around his wrists or the unexpected change in her accent that he couldn’t place straight away or the look of pure cruelty stamped across her face. How did she know his last name? Something told him this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
***
Matt consulted his iPhone screen again, confirming that Dom had remained in the same spot. At least that because, unfortunately, the man he’d followed had vanished into thin air. Whoever he was, his presence was relevant and the fact that he’d disappeared so easily only supported that theory. He was about to report on his progress when he saw that they were calling him back.
“MB-7, where are you?”
“Still in the casino, bloody lost him.” He was just entering the private room where he’d left Dom. He frowned when he realized they weren’t there. He checked his phone again and approached the location the GPS tracker indicated as the position, his heart dropping when he picked up Dom’s phone lying abandoned on the floor near the table.
“We found her. She’s Ekaterina Ivanova Orlova, an associate of Sokolov’s.”
“Wait.” Matt’s heart skipped a beat. “She’s-”
“- Katya, precisely. The professional killer.”
