Operation Date The Playboy

I wasn't supposed to be here.

It was the same words that repeated itself over and over again in my head like a mantra.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

However, tonight's party was an event meant to be the talk of the town for months. At least, that is what the articles on the internet, TV, and other news outlets said. I should have known since I've been keeping tabs, watching every TV snippet, and reading every blog post. I had even marked the date down on my calendar.

Not because I was eager to attend the event or something, but because it was my job.

As a detective.

Invitation to the event was strictly by invitation, so I had no choice but to infiltrate the party dressed as a guest. Well, nothing a forged VIP card and a day spent shopping for the best outfit couldn't fix.

And so here I was, standing in the large garden of the manor, staring at the enormous building in front of me. I bit down on my lips, my nerves stretched taut as I tried to keep my expression aloof. Holding onto the champagne glass in my hand, I pretended to sip, raising the glass just a bit to my lips as I scanned the crowd of guests.

Light music played by a band at a corner filled the air in a melodic rhythm, along with the laughter and chatter of men dressed in their fine clothes and their expensive cufflinks, and women who smiled and laughed along. Their voices were sweet and their heads were covered by their lace hats. I could hear the sounds of a fountain nearby and the soft buzz of something, probably a flying drone.

The gun hidden under my skirt hit my skin lightly as I moved around the spacious garden. Faces I'd seen on TV or during board meetings passed by me, and I was almost tempted to take out my gun then and there. It's a good thing they couldn't recognize me due to the mask over my face.

I held out my half-drunk glass, waiting for the approaching waiter. When he passed by, I dropped it on the silver tray, ignoring the sharp glare he threw at me when the contents nearly spilled on him. With steps full of elegance, I continued to walk, eyes never stopping to glance around.

"Have you seen him yet?" Michael's cheery voice resounded from the small device I had hidden in my ear.

I shook my head as I walked farther away from the crowd. ''Not yet,'' I whispered back. I came to a stop in front of a water fountain. The statue of a naked woman holding a pitcher stared back at me. Water streamed down from her eyes and into the pool. ''I don't think he's come out yet.''

''No, he's there,'' Michael answered. ''I've been trying to pinpoint his exact spot but damn the security of this place is tight.'' He sighed. ''I'm not even sure how long you'll last before they find out you're not on the list. Be careful.''

I nodded to myself. ''Don't worry.''

The cool air of the night, fragrant with the scent of roses, caressed my exposed back, causing the nape of my neck to stand. I turned, suddenly feeling eyes on me when I caught a few gazes lingering my way. A group of men nodded my way, their wide smiles sending a shiver of unease down my spine.

I gave them a tight smile, winking through my mask. They winked back.

Ugh.

Ignoring them, I made my way around the fountain, the clicking of my heels the only sound that greeted my ears. A small building stood not too far ahead, lights shone from its window, and the closer I walked towards it, the louder the boisterous waves of laughter rang in the air, catching my attention. I approached the building and peeped through the window, only to see a room full of men.

They were all seated, drinks in hand, and cigars in between their lips. But the sight was not what caught my attention. Rather, it was the grey-haired man in their middle. His face was wrinkled with old age, but the spark in his eyes was clear even from this distance.

A large smile found itself on my lips.

"There he is," I muttered.

"Are you sure?"

I watched as the man threw his head back, laughing loudly. ''Yes.'' I could never forget his face.

Lorenzo Moretti.

He was the owner of one of the largest corporations in the country, and many considered him a tycoon. But that was just the part of him he wanted people to know. Behind closed doors, he was a different person entirely. A man known to have the underground world wrapped around his hands like a tight fist. Renowned owner of well-known casinos and galleries, and whose cold-blooded reputation precedes him.

Drug trafficking, human trafficking, smuggling. You name it. All this was attributed to him, yet no one could ever link anything to his name. He was untouchable. A man whose power, money, and connections reached high enough to influence even the most powerful of men in this country.

He gave us a damn good chase, and for months, he managed to evade our every attempt to bring him to justice, until now.

The man who we'd been looking for was finally within our reach.

Correction. My reach.

I quickly turned away. My stomach churned and my throat tightened with anticipation. I could already imagine myself hand-cuffing him.

Taking a deep breath, I called. ''Michael?''

''Yeah?''

''He's in the west wing of the building. I need-''

The sound of glass shattering echoed loudly, and I was instantly on alert. I drew in a sharp breath, eyes turning back to the window. A girl clad in a blue dress stumbled inside the room, a look of embarrassment on her face. She had most likely walked into the wrong room.

''I'm so sorry!'' I heard her say.

A loud sigh escaped my lips. ''Dammit, just what I needed.''

''Are you alright, young lady?'' One of the men asked.

''Yes, yes. I'm very sorry for interrupting your meeting.''

Moretti shook his head, raising a hand. A man came rushing inside, leaning down as Moretti whispered something into his ear.

I watched as the man nodded and then helped the girl stand.

"Hey, you can't-" I heard her protest. ''What are you-''

Fist clenched, I was ready to go inside, heels sinking into the grass beneath me, only to come to an abrupt stop when I caught a glimpse of the man sitting next to him.

My brows creased and then widened slowly when I realized who it was.

Killian Caine.

The name rang like a death bell in my mind.

I took in his appearance, trying my best not to get caught staring, but unable to help myself. He was a tall man, with dark hair that almost looked a darker shade of blue from where I stood. His eyes were gray.

But I know they were not. They were more of a striking silver. One that peered right into your soul the moment they caught your gaze.

I swallowed hard. While all his features and frame were attractive, it was not the reason I couldn't look away.

I took a step back, cautiously.

He couldn't see me. That would be a huge problem.

''Nat, what's wrong? Why did you stop?''

I couldn't speak, and the voice in my ear only increased the rapid beat of my heart.