Report
974 Words
Aveline leaned against the edge of the dimly lit corridor just beyond the ballroom, the distant hum of music and laughter muted by thick velvet curtains. She slipped one AirPod in, her voice low and steady as the call connected.
“Observation report, live,” she whispered. “Target present. Gala in full swing. Civilians—unaware.”
A beat. Static, then: “Proceed.”
Her gaze flicked toward the crowd, eyes trained throupening like a hawk scanning through lace.
“Langston arrived earlier than expected. Confident. Calculated. Engaged briefly in a circle of political and tech affiliates—he disengaged after five minutes. Minimal warmth. No attachments noted.”
She paused.
“Did he see you?”
“Yes. I made contact. Casual introduction. No suspicion. Mild engagement. Observed signs of heightened awareness—he remembers my name.”
“Any risk of exposure?”
“None.”
Another pause.
“But…”
She hated using that word in a report. But it hung there.
“…his attention lingered longer than necessary.”
“Elaborate.”
She exhaled, choosing her words with care.
“He watched. Not just noticed—watched. Noticed my exits. My interaction with Dorian Vexley appeared to… provoke something.”
“Emotion?”
Aveline looked back at the ballroom. Cade Langston stood alone now, speaking to no one, but surrounded by everyone.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Unclear which. But it was raw.”
“Proceed with caution. Stay in control.”
Aveline smiled faintly.
“I always do.”
She ended the call. Slipped the AirPod out.
Smoothed the sides of her silk gown.
She’d walked into this mission expecting secrets.
The music softened into something sultry and low, a string quartet weaving through conversation like smoke. Aveline stepped back into the golden haze of the ballroom, expression smooth, her mask perfectly in place once more.
She didn’t look for him.
She didn’t need to.
Cade was already watching.
He stood near the bar again, same stance—shoulders straight, hands relaxed but commanding, like the world waited for his permission to spin.
And for a moment, the crowd parted like it had agreed to let them collide.
Aveline walked toward the far table, her path innocent enough. A glass of something sparkling was already waiting.
Cade moved just enough to intercept. Not directly. Not rudely. Just... there.
She felt it before she saw him. That change in the air. The silent gravity of a man who wasn’t used to chasing anything, but couldn’t help following her orbit.
They passed within arm’s reach.
And as she stepped past—
“Miss Aveline.”
Her name on his lips stopped her mid-step. Smooth. Low. Almost like a dare.
She turned, meeting his eyes. “Mr. Langston.”
“Are you enjoying the evening?”
A simple question. But the way he said it…
She tilted her head. “I find it interesting.”
He raised a brow. “Interesting isn’t always a compliment.”
“No,” she said, smile playing at the corner of her lips. “But it isn’t an insult either.”
A quiet beat.
Their eyes held—not war, not flirtation, but something charged and hovering.
He looked like he wanted to say something else.
But didn’t.
Instead, he let her go. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
She gave a graceful nod. “You too.”
And just like that, they passed each other again. No firework. No scene.
But the air behind them still shimmered.
And somewhere in her mind, Aveline marked him again.
Not just the target.
Not anymore.
The soft click of her heels echoed as Aveline stepped out of the gala and into the cool silence of midnight. The air outside bit at her skin, but she welcomed it—it was real, crisp, and without pretense.
She didn’t call a car immediately. She stood at the curb, eyes on the way the city lights danced in puddles.
Inside her bag, her burner phone buzzed once.
> "Report?"
She stared at the message for a long time before tucking the phone away.
Not yet.
When she finally got home, the apartment welcomed her like a quiet sanctuary. She peeled off her gown with careful fingers, folded it like silk armor, and stood barefoot on the hardwood floor, suddenly feeling small in a way she hadn’t expected.
Not weak.
Just… exposed.
Her fingers hovered over the laptop keys for the report but instead turned to her personal journal—the one no one knew existed.
> Cade Langston. Cool exterior, calculated charm.
But his eyes—something bruised beneath all that steel.
She closed the book before she could write anything more.
Tomorrow, she would be the agent again. Composed. Cold if needed.
But tonight, she allowed herself to wonder what it meant—that spark in the dark.
---
Cade
The gala ended, but Cade didn’t leave right away.
He lingered, like something unsaid still clung to the air. Aveline’s voice echoed quietly in his mind—her clever replies, her poised smile. There had been something different about her. Everyone else at that party had been background noise.
She’d been the only one who made him listen.
When he got home, he didn’t go straight to bed. He poured a glass of something strong and stood by the window, overlooking the city skyline like a man trying to shake off something foolish.
It’s nothing.
He repeated it like a mantra.
But it didn’t hold.
---
The Next Morning
Cade arrived at the office early, as always.
Coffee black. Shirt crisp. Expression unreadable.
He moved through his meetings like a man carved from control. But when the elevator opened and he stepped out into the hall—
went to his office to start the day.
Cold.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD