Christ.
In this other photo, her piercing green eyes seem to look straight through anything. Hair that shifts between brown and red depending on the light, like fire contained in silk.
Beauty that stops traffic. Brains that could topple governments.
Gotta give it to Anton Baev, he has impeccable taste. He recognized a kindred spirit wrapped in deceptive innocence. And I do, too.
Fiona is the perfect woman for an assassin.
She could be a partner in every sense. The mind behind the muscle. Intelligence gathering while he handles elimination. A power couple that could reshape the criminal landscape.
No wonder he threw away protocol for her.
What would it feel like to have that mind focused on me? To be the one she looks at with calculation and desire?
The rational part of my brain knows this fascination is dangerous. Targets aren't supposed to intrigue me; they're problems to solve, obstacles to remove, nothing more.
But Fiona Quinn isn't just a target anymore.
She's a puzzle I want to dismantle piece by piece, not to destroy, but to understand. To see how all those brilliant fragments fit together to create something so compelling.
I'd laid the bait carefully. A few vulnerable entry points, some tempting data about HeartSync Dating Solutions. Breadcrumbs that led to Morrison's encrypted accounts. Standard honey trap for someone with her reputation.
I caught her. She found my system, poked around in places that should have been impossible to reach.
But she'd gone deeper.
Past the bait. She'd danced through my security like she belonged there.
I've been hunting ghosts in code for years, chasing shadows who think they can outmaneuver me. But this girl had made me work for it.
Made me respect her.
I understand why Anton Baev threw away his legendary reputation to play bodyguard. He sees in her what I see. Because she's not just pretty, she's dangerous—the kind of dangerous that makes smart men stupid and careful men reckless.
She made herself a target the moment she touched my system. But she also made herself irresistible.
I walk to the window overlooking Manhattan. People walking in fractured patterns that remind me of her code, beautiful chaos with hidden structure underneath.
Anton's better with a rifle, faster with a blade, probably deadlier in hand-to-hand combat. But I perfected something he never mastered completely.
Hiding in plain sight.
The art of blending in. Corporate camouflage. Becoming background noise in a world that's constantly churning.
That's the difference between Anton and me. He hunts from the shadows. I hunt from the light.
And right now, watching him make himself vulnerable for one Irish girl with clever fingers and dangerous curiosity, I'm not sure which one of us three is more dangerous.
I slide the laptop into my briefcase and straighten my Armani tie. Time to disappear into the crowd.
The elevator ride down forty-three floors gives me enough time to shift personas. By the time the doors open, I'm just another Manhattan executive heading to another forgettable meeting.
Gray wool coat, Italian leather shoes that cost more than most people's rent, briefcase that screams investment banker. The kind of man people look through, not at.
Perfect camouflage.
The doorman nods without really seeing me. I'm furniture to him, part of the building's expensive decor.
