The Operatives Part 1 | A Romantic Short Story
A single weekend reaches a critical juncture when a determined spy partners with a cunning assassin. A LVNDR Romantic Short Story. 18+
The crime lord’s birthday celebration fell on the first warm, starry night after a series of fatal storms.
The perfect night served as further evidence that Jones could barter with the gods themselves, Sabine thought as she made herself comfortable at the rooftop bar where she had a perfect view of the city’s skyline and — most importantly — the Assassin.
Well-dressed men and women paraded about the black-tie event, their moods light as they mingled with old friends and enemies. It was all the same for those in organized crime.
But it was the tall man standing alone on the other side of the room who held her attention.
“You clean up nicely.” Jones, the man of the hour, placed a hand on Sabine’s hip as he snuck up from behind. She turned to face him. The sharp lines and dark features of his face were striking, but it was the ominous darkness underneath the facade that made the Spy’s skin crawl.
Jones had invited Sabine after she’d sought his assistance in finding the Stygian Opal. The muddled lore of the rare gem made separating fact from fiction impossible. However, whether the rumors were fact or fiction didn’t matter to her.
What did matter was that she was the one to deliver it to whichever of the world’s richest women and men made the highest bid.
The money that she’d make on the exchange would allow her to buy her way out of the lousy contract she’d made with her corrupt agency.
“Thank you for the invite.” Sabine pulled away to take sip from her highball glass. Just a diet soda with a lime, of course.
“Pleasure is mine,” Jones mumbled, his focus on flagging down a bartender walking through the party with glasses of champagne. Sabine politely protested as he grabbed two glasses from the tray and handed her one.
The way his eyes darted let her know that it was no longer a suggestion. “It’s just champagne.”
She accepted the cool glass flute with a smile. Angering Jones would only slow her down.
Jones took a sip of the sparkling wine. When The Spy didn’t mirror him, he placed his drink on the table. The grin fell from his face. “Drink.”
Sabine’s face fell for only a moment before she quickly worked to cover it with a smile of appeasement.
“That wasn’t so hard,” Jones’ tone was as condescending as the light pat he placed on her cheek before picking his glass back up and waving to a man from across the room. “I’ll see you later.”
A chill rolled down the sheer chiffon that draped down her back like a waterfall. The dress was long-sleeved, but not modest; most of her skin was on full display underneath the gauzy, bespeckled navy blue fabric. Her only accessory was a compact knife on the nape of her neck, hidden behind her thick curls. She didn’t let herself think about needing to use it.
Sabine’s first attempt at locating the Stygian Opal had failed when the source she’d chased through the city had gone up in (literal) flames over the River Thames. She learned of three identical incidents impacting low-level men in high-level crime families across the country. Whoever owned the ornament seemed to have decided to eliminate anyone they deemed a liability.
With her low-level contacts out of commission, Sabine had to get creative to locate the last link in the chain. According to her sources, the Assassin had no name, address, or family. He showed up when and where he wanted and could only be identified by the bright white scar that ran across his left eye.
The Spy turned her attention back to the Assassin. Or at least the spot where the Assassin had been. She scanned the room only to find that she’d lost sight of her target.
“Shit,” Sabine hissed under her breath, sighing as she swallowed the rest of her champagne in one gulp.
“Are you watching me?”
The Spy jumped, spinning to find the Assassin looming over her. She hoped her deer-in-the-headlights look came across more like a woman flustered over an attractive man speaking to her and less like a woman caught in the act.
“I’m sorry,” The Spy pretended to stutter, “I’m just waiting for a friend.”
“You’re a bad liar for what…” The Assassin probed, squinting his eyes at her as if her history was inscribed into the creases of her skin, “a consigliare?”
“Impressive,” The Spy lied, her voice intentionally higher-pitched than normal. A technique that she’d found took men’s guards down. “My name’s Mary.”
She reached out to shake his hand, but the Assassin only stared back at her with... Was he laughing at her?
“You can stop with the facade,” the Assassin gibed, taking a sip of his drink. “Jones told me you’re looking for me.”
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” Sabine assured him, leaning into her act even as it unravelled beneath her. “It was nice to meet you…”
“Dorian.” The Assassin’s grin widened. The sharp angles of his canines peaking through soft lips.
“It was nice to meet you, Dorian,” Sabine finished as she offered a nod before taking a step past him.
“It was nice to meet you, Sabine.”
The Spy whirled toward him.
“Now that I finally have your attention…” He laid two gentle fingers under her chin to close her mouth — agape with shock — before letting it rest on her bicep. A light squeeze let her know that running wasn’t an option. “I know you bargained with Jones for insights into the Stygian Opal. It’d be a waste if you left before getting what you’re looking for.”