Kisses and knives

The rain came down in fine needles, silent against the marble exterior of the Evermoor Estate. Aveline stood beneath the arch of the private gates, a velvet folder in one hand and a chilled wind brushing against the other. Her driver hadn’t spoken a word since they crossed into the countryside, and she liked it that way. Silence left space for her other senses to sharpen. She wore elegance like armor: a silk slip dress in gunmetal blue, minimal jewelry, and a coat she wouldn’t need past the gates. The client had been precise — "Blend in, but shimmer under the right light. Make him curious." The assignment had arrived sealed, anonymous, expensive. In the folder: • His name — Cade Langston • His habits — private, guarded, dangerous • Her task — get close, gain trust, report It didn’t say why. It never did. That wasn’t her concern. But something about the way his name was inked — bold, slashed — had made her pause. A guard approached. She smiled, soft and unthreatening. “Aveline Moore. Here for the gala.” She was waved in without question. Inside, the estate pulsed with wealth. Crystal chandeliers like glass constellations. The air perfumed with secrets and designer cologne. She spotted him before he saw her — tall, black suit, no tie, drink in hand, expression unreadable. Cade. The man who would unknowingly become her mark. But as her heels clicked softly across the marble floor, and his gaze lifted to meet hers — She had a flicker of something unfamiliar. Not fear. Not doubt. Something warmer. Dangerous. Aveline slipped between guests like silk through fingers — a quiet glide of grace and focus. She circled the ballroom’s perimeter, never approaching too directly, never lingering too long. Cade stood near the tall windows, moonlight laced behind his silhouette, sharp jaw cast in silver. He was speaking with no one. Just observing. Perfect. She stopped a few paces away, letting her gaze travel over a sculpture by the window — not him — until she caught his glance. He noticed her. She made sure of it. With measured ease, she tilted her head toward the sculpture. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Her voice, calm velvet. “A bit cold… but beautiful.” Cade’s eyes didn’t shift from her face. “That’s how most people describe this place.” Aveline turned slightly, giving him her profile. “And how do you describe it?” He considered her. “Efficient. Lavish. Hollow.” She let a small smile play at her lips. “And you still choose to be here?” “I didn’t say I chose it.” Their eyes locked. A beat passed. “Do you often talk to strangers about hollow places?” he asked. She met his stare, unwavering. “Only when they seem like they know exactly what hollow feels like.” Something flickered in his gaze. Then, quietly — “What’s your name?” “Aveline,” she answered, letting it breathe slow, like silk unwrapping. He didn’t offer his. Didn’t need to. She already knew it. But still, she tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “And you are?” “Someone who doesn’t trust small talk.” She laughed softly. “Then we’re already off to a bad start.” He smiled — not fully — just enough to intrigue. “That depends on how well you recover.” Game on.