Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss-Chapter 93: Not Civilized

Chapter Ninety-Three

She threw the sheets off her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, ignoring the dull throb in her skull. Like she was the one who should be ashamed?

Absolutely not.

She wouldn’t let him kill her pride. Not after what he did. Not after he humiliated her in front of his men. If he thought she was going to slink away in the shadows, he didn’t know her at all.

Pushing herself to her feet, she steadied against the nightstand, inhaling sharply. Her body protested, but her mind was clear— she was walking out of there on her own terms.

The door was slightly ajar as if daring her to follow him. She took a step forward, her bare feet silent against the floor. She would find him. She would face him. And she would make him regret thinking he had the upper hand.

But before she could take another step, the door swung open.

He stood there, arms crossed, that ever-present smirk curving his lips. "Going somewhere?"

She met his gaze, unflinching. "I will walk out of here as I came in— on my own terms."

His smirk deepened. "That’s cute. But it’s not up for discussion."

She took another step closer, tilting her head. "You can try to stop me. But you better make sure you succeed, or you’ll regret it."

He chuckled, low and dark. "You really don’t know when to quit, do you?"

"I don’t quit," she shot back. "Especially not when it comes to putting men like you in their place."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable— amusement, maybe even admiration. But beneath that, there was something else. Something dangerous.

"Then let’s see how far you get," he murmured, stepping aside just enough to let her pass.

It wasn’t a permission. It was a challenge.

And she never backed down from a challenge.

She hadn’t noticed at first, too caught up in her anger, but now her eyes flicked down to the tray in his hands. Steam curled from the plate— something warm. It looked rich. The scent of seasoned meat and fresh bread filled the space between them.

Her gaze snapped back to his hand, then to his face. What was his problem with always feeding her?

"Eat," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She didn’t move. Didn’t reach for the tray. The silence stretched, thick with her defiance.

His lips pressed into something close to amusement as he set the tray on the nightstand beside her. "If you’re going to fight me, you better eat," he said smoothly. "You’ll need all the energy you can get."

Something about the way he said it made her stomach tighten. It was an odd mix of agitation and reluctant gratitude. She hated that he was right. Hated that he knew he was right. She was hungry.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "I don’t need your food."

He exhaled a slow, knowing chuckle. "Suit yourself. But if you pass out from hunger while trying to kill me, that’s going to be embarrassing for you."

Her jaw clenched. He was impossible. Arrogant. Controlling. And yet... she couldn’t shake the fact that he was hers... Well, partially hers. Not her servant or slave, but her sex partner. That was if she wanted to put a name or tag on whatever was going on between them.

He left again, and this time, she let out a slow breath before reaching for the plate.

She told herself it wasn’t about him. She wasn’t eating because he told her to. She was eating because she needed her strength. That was all.

She tore a piece of bread, chewing quickly, ignoring the way warmth settled in her stomach. It wasn’t comfort— it was a necessity. A few bites of meat, and a sip of water, just enough to steady herself. Then she pushed the tray away, wiping her fingers on the napkin before turning her attention to the nightstand.

Her instincts told her where to look.

Pulling the drawer open, she wasn’t surprised to find a notepad and pen waiting for her. It was her first time in this bedroom, but she had been in his personal apartment before. She knew his habits— how he always kept something to write with nearby. He was a creature of routine, and tonight, that worked in her favor.

She scribbled quickly:

"Thank you."

Then, with a smirk, she added, "We’re even now. I guess I forgive you since you fed me."

At the bottom, she sketched two exaggerated rolling eyes before dropping the pen.

Satisfied, she slid the notepad back into place, pushed the chair back silently, and made her way to the door.

The hallway was empty, and the air was also still. She moved carefully, keeping her breathing steady as she slipped past doorways and down the corridor. Every muscle in her body was tensed, waiting for someone to spot her, for the inevitable shout of ’Hey, stop her!’

But no one did.

Her heart pounded as she reached the outer gate. There were guards, but they didn’t look at her. They didn’t move, didn’t react. They didn’t even notice she was there, sneaking out. What a piece of excuses they have as bodyguards.

How were they not able to notice her sneaking out? Were they not supposed to be diligent and high on alert? Was this a stroke of luck? Or a rare oversight?

She didn’t question it anymore.

Instead, she took her chance, moving swiftly past them, her feet silent on the cool ground. Every step she put between herself and the villa felt like she was going to return.

By the time she reached the road, she smirked to herself. ’Idiots.’ They really let her slip away.

She disappeared into the night, rushing to where her car was.

Ahmet knew she would leave. He had counted on it.

No one knew her the way he knew her— how her mind worked, how her pride ruled her. There was no version of reality where she would sit and wait for him to decide what to do with her. No, she was always going to slip away the first chance she got.

That was why, before she even woke up, he had already given his orders, "If you see her, you don’t see her."

If his men had tried to stop her, she would have fought back. And knowing her, she wouldn’t have gone down quietly. It would have turned into a spectacle— one that her father could twist into an attack against his own villa.

No, it was better this way. Let her think she had outmaneuvered them. Let her believe she had escaped on her own.

A quiet knock sounded on his door.

"She’s gone." The person announced immediately he got in.

He didn’t react, only nodding before the messenger left. He had known the moment she crossed the gates.

Stepping back into his room, his eyes drifted to the nightstand. The plate— emptier than before. Not much, but enough.

That was good. That was all he needed.

Then he spotted it.

The note.

He picked it up, scanning her words, the corner of his lips twitching. But when his gaze landed on the ridiculous rolling-eye doodle at the bottom, an amused sound escaped him.

A chuckle.

Shaking his head, he folded the note between his fingers, smirking to himself.

She was an interesting assassin. His sweet assassin.

He knew she was going to return.

It was until after an hour Markus came home and asked him if what he heard was true and filled him in.

"So, you do know she would make sure she punished the man, right?" Markus pointed out and he nodded.

"I need to check the facts first. Surely, we can’t punish Vick for what his daughter did. He’s one of our loyal men and how he raises his children is none of the organization’s business... especially when those children are not registered in our system." Ahmet declared.

"Well, but Matilda is registered in their system and under her care so she is going to turn this place upside down until she gets to Vick. She can’t fight a bunch of school children so her bet is on Vick. Besides, Matilda is a lovely little girl." Markus defended her and Ahmet raised an eyebrow at him.

Was Markus, not the same person who didn’t want to interfere in a married couple’s fight a few weeks ago until the man nearly killed the wife and they had to suspend him? Why then was he concerned about this issue?

"Stop looking at me like that. Asli is very troublesome and look at what she did. If her father is supposed to pick a fight when he hears this, you know it can ruin our plans. Especially Demir being around, the man would’ve fought you to protect her."

"Markus, I saved her from getting shot. I protected her." Ahmet didn’t know why he got triggered after hearing Demir’s name. Though he confirmed they had nothing romantic going on, he always felt unsettled when the name came up.

"All I’m saying is, we can solve this like civilized people."

"We are not civilized people." Ahmet quickly reminded him.