Chapter One — The One Who Shouldn’t Be Here
Poppy moved like a shadow.
Security systems were puzzles meant to be solved, not obstacles meant to stop her. The penthouse alarms went silent in less than thirty seconds, and soon she was standing at the edge of the rooftop terrace, hidden behind a glass divider.
That was when she saw him.
Anthony was swimming alone in the outdoor pool; the city lights of New York stretching endlessly behind him. He wore nothing but a white swimsuit; water gliding over a body built like it had been carved with intention — tall, broad, powerful. Tattoos wrapped around his chest and arms, disappearing beneath the water like secrets she wanted to uncover.
For the first time in years, Poppy forgot to breathe. She had studied his files. She knew he was dangerous. Ruthless. Untouchable. But no dossier had prepared her for this. A sharp voice crackled through the intercom.
“Sir, we’ve detected a failure in the perimeter.”
Anthony stopped swimming instantly. He didn’t rush. Didn’t panic. He simply stood, water dripping down his skin as his green eyes scanned the darkness. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head toward her hiding place.
“I don’t remember inviting anyone to swim with me tonight,” he said calmly. “Whoever you are… come out.”
Poppy smiled at herself. So, he really could feel her. She stepped forward, emerging from the shadows in her tight black suit, weapon still holstered, posture relaxed but ready. Moonlight brushed her skin, revealing confidence sharpened by danger. Anthony froze. Not from fear — but from interest.
“Well,” he murmured, eyes dragging over her unapologetically, “this is unexpected.” “I’m an assassin,” Poppy said plainly. “I was hired to kill you.”
Silence fell between them, thick and electric. Anthony laughed softly.
“You don’t look nervous enough for someone here to end my life.”
“I’m very good at my job,” she replied. “I just didn’t expect you to be…” Her gaze lingered. “…this.”
His lips curved into a slow, dark smile.
“Let me guess. You’re reconsidering.” She tilted her head.
“You’re right. It feels like a waste to kill a man who looks like this.” Danger flickered in his eyes — not fear, but intrigue.
“You realize,” he said, stepping out of the pool, water cascading down his tattoos, “that if you don’t kill me tonight, I’ll spend the rest of my life hunting you.” Poppy didn’t back away.
“Then stay alive. It’ll be more interesting that way.” They circled each other slowly, like predators deciding who would strike first. Every word was sharp. Every look, heavier than a touch. Threats tangled with curiosity, power clashing against desire. Anthony stopped inches from her.
“You walked into my home,” he said quietly. “With a weapon. With intent. And yet you hesitate.”
“Even assassins are human,” she replied. “Sometimes.” His fingers brushed the zipper of her suit — not opening it, just testing the boundary.
“You’re dangerous,” he said.
“So are you.” Poppy’s smile was slow and deliberate.
“Don’t misunderstand me, handsome,” she said calmly. “I could kill you by myself, easily. But I decided to let you live… because you look like an incredible mistake I’d like to make.” She reached for her belt and, one by one, removed two knives and a tranquilizer syringe, placing them carefully on the marble sink beside her.
Anthony’s eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. The smirk on his lips shifted into something darker — impressed, intrigued. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured. “Most assassins wouldn’t dare speak to me like that.” He stepped closer, lifting a finger to her jaw, tilting her face up until their eyes locked. His gaze burned — not with fear, but desire. “If you’re offering yourself instead of pulling the trigger,” he said quietly, “who am I to refuse?” Poppy didn’t pull away.
