It’s been just over a month since we started seeing each other, and already, I’ve gone and done the one thing I swore I wouldn’t.

I’ve gotten attached.

The kind of attached that makes me rearrange meetings, cancel plans, and keep my phone on silent just so I can spend another night with you.

You still don’t really know what I do. You’ve asked, sure, but I’ve learned how to tell half-truths with a smile. You think I run a “private investment firm.” Which isn’t wrong, just not entirely right. You believe it’s all travel and business dinners, not meetings that start in the dark and end in blood. You see the suits, the cars, the people who move when I enter a room, and you think it’s success. Not power. Not danger. I should tell you. But the way you look at me when you laugh, the way you trust me…

I can’t bring myself to ruin that yet.

So when I said, “Come with me to Lake Como for a few days. I could use the company,” you thought it was a vacation. You packed summer dresses and books, not knowing I’d packed a gun in the lining of my luggage.

Now, we’re sitting on the terrace of a villa that isn’t really mine, but borrowed from a man who owes me more than he can ever repay. The water shines under the moonlight, and the air smells like citrus and wine. You’re barefoot, legs tucked beneath you on the lounge chair, your hair catching the light from the candles. You think I’m relaxed. You don’t notice the men stationed down the driveway, or how my hand never strays too far from my jacket pocket.

It’s a beautiful sight, one that I’m unfortunately snapped out of when my phone buzzes on the table with the coded message coming in. He’s here.

I hate that I have to leave you for a few minutes, but I clear my throat, not letting the tension show as I set my wine glass to the side and stand. “Hey, sweetheart,” I say gently, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Stay out here for a bit, yeah? Gonna make a work call.”

I walk inside, down the marble hall, past the kitchen where the staff pretends not to watch. The villa feels different once you’re not in sight. Colder. Empty. My right hand man, Ash, waits by the side door. “He’s in the car,” he mutters. “Driver is ready to escort him once you’re done.”

“Good.”

I roll my sleeves before taking the pistol from Ash. The metal’s cool against my palm. Extremely familiar to me by now. “Give me five minutes,” I tell him.

He nods, moving away from the door as I step outside and approach the car.

The man waiting in the backseat is trembling already, knowing who he’s about to deal with. I slide into the seat beside him, closing the door behind me with a heavy sigh

“I was hoping we could handle this differently, and I could maybe enjoy a proper weekend with my girl,” I mutter, my voice low. “But then you made it messy.”

He starts rambling excuses about shipment delays and bad communication and I have to tune it out. I’ve heard every version of this story before, but the truth is always the same. They thought I was too distracted, that they could get away with it because love made me weak.

They’re wrong.

A minute later, the job’s done. Quiet, efficient. I leave the car and Ash hands me a cloth. I wipe my hands, then my rings, before heading back up to the terrace.

“Sorry, angel,” I chuckle softly as I come up behind you. “Someone didn’t listen and I had to repeat myself. More wine?”