Chapter 8 - The First Move
1182 Words
The emerald dress remained hanging on the outside of Sofia’s wardrobe.
She stared at it for a long moment.
The mission folder lay open on her bed.
Beside it rested a photograph of Dominic Russo.
Nick.
The same easy smile.
The same hazel eyes.
The same man who had made her laugh over a drink.
She closed the folder.
The assignment was clear.
Gain his trust.
Locate the archive.
Kill him.
It should have been simple.
Instead, for the first time in her career, she found herself studying the target instead of the mission.
⸻
Across the city, Nick stood in the office overlooking the piano bar.
Luca leaned against the doorway.
“You think she’ll come back?”
“Yes.”
“You sound awfully sure.”
Nick looked down at the empty stool where Sofia had sat the night before.
“She doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Luca frowned.
“You’ve read the file too many times.”
“I’ve read it enough.”
Nick closed the folder.
“People like Sofia don’t suddenly walk into places like this.”
“They come because something inside them is looking for an exit.”
Luca folded his arms.
“And if that exit is a bullet with your name on it?”
Nick smiled faintly.
“Then I’ll have misjudged her.”
⸻
That evening…
Sofia returned.
This time she wore dark jeans tucked into knee-high black boots and a fitted ivory sweater beneath a tailored black coat.
Elegant.
Simple.
Still impossible not to notice.
She paused outside the bar.
For a brief moment she questioned herself.
Was she here because of the assignment?
Or because she wanted to see him again?
She hated that she couldn’t answer.
Taking a slow breath, she stepped inside.
The familiar warmth greeted her immediately.
The pianist was already playing.
The bartender looked up and smiled.
“Welcome back.”
The words surprised her.
He remembered her.
“It’s good to be back,” she admitted.
“Your usual?”
She smiled awkwardly.
“I’ve only been here once.”
He laughed.
“Then your usual is whatever you had yesterday.”
She found herself laughing with him.
“That seems fair.”
He set the drink in front of her.
“This one’s not free.”
“I assumed as much.”
She reached for her purse.
“No.”
A voice beside her interrupted.
“I’ve got it.”
She turned.
Nick.
He looked as though he’d just arrived from work, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, the top button of his charcoal shirt undone.
Comfortable.
Confident.
His expression carried the same relaxed smile she’d remembered all day.
“You really shouldn’t keep buying drinks for strangers.”
“I was hoping we’d graduated from strangers.”
She couldn’t stop the smile that appeared.
“Maybe acquaintances.”
“I’ll take acquaintances.”
The bartender accepted Nick’s payment before disappearing to help another customer.
Nick gestured toward the stool beside her.
“May I?”
She nodded.
“I was hoping you would.”
The words escaped before she could think.
Heat rushed into her cheeks.
Nick raised an amused eyebrow.
“Were you?”
She looked down at her glass.
“I…”
She almost apologized.
Instead she admitted the truth.
“I enjoyed talking to you.”
Nick’s expression softened.
“So did I.”
⸻
For a while they simply listened to the music.
Neither seemed in a hurry to fill the silence.
Finally Nick spoke.
“How’s the vacation?”
She sighed quietly.
“It’s over.”
“So soon?”
“My father changed his mind.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged.
“I’m used to it.”
Nick studied her profile.
There it was again.
Acceptance.
Not frustration.
Not anger.
Acceptance.
As though disappointment had become normal.
“What does your father do?” he asked.
She chose her words carefully.
“He runs a business.”
“Demanding?”
“You could say that.”
“He expects a lot from you.”
She looked over at him.
“You can tell?”
He smiled gently.
“I’ve met people who carry the weight of someone else’s expectations.”
“And?”
“And eventually they either break…”
He paused.
“…or they decide the weight doesn’t belong to them.”
She looked away.
“I don’t think everyone gets that choice.”
“No,” he agreed quietly.
“But I think everyone deserves one.”
The words settled heavily in her chest.
Deserve.
Another unfamiliar word.
⸻
Nick watched her as she stared toward the pianist.
She wasn’t here to gather information.
Not tonight.
She hadn’t asked about the building.
The business.
His schedule.
His security.
She hadn’t even looked toward the office overlooking the room.
Instead…
She seemed fascinated by ordinary life.
He found himself wondering what kind of life she’d been denied.
It made the intelligence reports feel painfully incomplete.
⸻
“So,” Nick said lightly, changing the subject, “if you could be anywhere in the world tomorrow, where would you go?”
Sofia blinked.
“I’ve never thought about it.”
“Then think now.”
She considered the question carefully.
“I’d like to see the ocean.”
“You’ve never seen it?”
“I’ve flown over it.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“I didn’t think so either.”
Nick smiled.
“The ocean’s worth seeing.”
“What about you?”
“I like the mountains.”
“Why?”
“They remind me how small my problems are.”
She laughed softly.
“I don’t think mine would fit beneath a mountain.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Their eyes met.
For just a moment…
Neither looked away.
⸻
From the second-floor balcony, Luca watched the exchange with growing concern.
One of Nick’s security men stepped beside him.
“Boss seems comfortable.”
Luca didn’t answer immediately.
He kept watching Sofia.
The way she smiled.
The way Nick listened instead of interrogated.
Finally he spoke.
“That’s what worries me.”
“What?”
Luca folded his arms.
“She’s starting to forget why she’s here.”
⸻
As the evening drew to a close, Sofia stood to leave.
“Thank you… again.”
Nick rose with her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She hesitated.
“What makes you think I’m coming back?”
He smiled.
“Because yesterday, you came here looking for a place to belong.”
He looked around the room.
“I think you’re beginning to find one.”
Sofia didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
Because deep down…
She feared he was right.
She walked out into the cool night, unaware that hidden in the lining of her coat was a tiny tracking device.
Not planted by Nick.
Not by his men.
By Vittorio Moretti.
Her father had never truly given her two days of freedom.
He had simply wanted to know where she would go.
And now…
He knew exactly where to find her.
- Writer
