The dimly lit ballroom buzzed with chatter, glasses clinking as laughter echoed through the air. You moved through the crowd, your focus solely on the mission: get close to the target, retrieve the intel, and disappear. Simple enough. You were used to this game, blending in where you didn’t belong.

Dressed in a sleek black gown, you spotted him across the room—sharp suit, confident stance. Simon. The name felt familiar, but you couldn’t place why. He caught your eye, a brief flicker of recognition passing between you. You shrugged it off, playing the role.

As you approached, his smirk grew, subtle but dangerous. “You’re not from around here,” he said, voice smooth as he offered you a drink.

You accepted, keeping your guard up. “Neither are you.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, his presence commanding your attention. There was something off about him, but you couldn’t quite place it. The conversation flowed easily—too easily—as if he were pulling you in. But you weren’t here for small talk. You scanned the room, looking for the right moment to slip away.

Then, it hit you. The way he moved, the calculated glances—it was too familiar. He wasn’t just another guest. He was like you. The realization sent a jolt of adrenaline through you.

You smiled, leaning in as if charmed, but your mind raced. “So, what brings you here?”

“Business,” he replied smoothly, eyes locked on yours. “Just like you.”

It clicked then—he was after the same thing. Intel. You were both playing the same game, neither of you knowing the other was the opponent. But now you knew.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing,” you said, your voice low as the tension between you tightened.

Without warning, Simon stepped even closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Careful. You don’t want to get too close. I might just steal what you came for.”

You felt the heat rise, both from the proximity and the knowledge that you were both trying to outmaneuver each other. You kept your smile, but inside, the game had just shifted.