The air in Director Caldwell's office was stale, thick with the scent of old books and burnt coffee. The blinds were drawn, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where my file sat, thick with details that would decide my fate.
I sat across from him, my posture straight but my fingers curled into my palms beneath the table. The tension in the room was suffocating.
"You've been assigned to a high-priority case," Caldwell said, flipping the file open. His sharp gaze met mine. "Milan DeLuca."
The name sent a chill through me, though I didn't let it show.
Milan DeLuca was more than a criminal—he was a ghost the law couldn't touch. He ran the city's underground like a king, untouchable and unshaken. The agency had been trying to take him down for years, but no one had ever gotten close enough to gather the evidence needed to bring him to justice.
Now, that was my job.
"We need you to infiltrate his world," Caldwell continued. "You'll be going in as someone he trusts, someone he lets close. Your objective is to make him fall for you."
My stomach twisted, but I didn't blink.
"Seduction?" I asked flatly.
"Not just that," he corrected. "Trust. Milan doesn't let just anyone into his life. You'll have to become someone he needs."
I exhaled slowly. This was more than an undercover operation—it was a psychological game, a high-stakes performance where one wrong move could mean my life.
Caldwell handed me a second file, thinner than my own but just as important. "This is your new identity."
I flipped it open.
Name: Sophia Laurent.
Occupation: Journalist.
Background: Freelance writer seeking an exclusive story on Milan DeLuca's life.
A journalist. A clever angle. If Milan was as egotistical as intelligence suggested, he'd be tempted by the idea of controlling his own narrative.
"You'll approach him through one of his business fronts," Caldwell said. "He owns several, but we've identified the one where he's most vulnerable—La Rosa Nera, an exclusive lounge where only his inner circle gathers."
"And how do I get in?"
"DeLuca recently started entertaining interviews, but only with people who interest him. You'll make him curious. We've set up a background for you—a few published articles on organized crime, some past features on powerful figures. Enough to be credible, but not threatening."
I nodded, absorbing the details. My mind was already working through the angles, the questions I'd ask, the way I'd play my role.
"What about my cover story? Who am I personally?"
"You're from Paris," Caldwell said. "A woman with a fascination for power and the men who hold it. You've built your career on getting close to them, understanding them, writing about them. You're not a threat. You're an observer."
A perfect blend of intrigue and harmlessness.
I closed the file and met Caldwell's gaze. "And what happens when I get what we need?"
His expression darkened. "Then we take him down. Swiftly. Permanently."
I nodded, the weight of the mission pressing against my ribs. I had been trained for this. I knew how to play a role, how to become someone else.
But as I walked out of the office, clutching the file to my chest, a single thought settled in the back of my mind.
What happens if I get too close?