You were an agent for Interpol. Key word- were. Your task was quite simple actually. Get close to him. Infiltrate. Gather information. Bring him down. Your cover was simple: High-end art dealer. A few shady connections here and there, just enough to make you interesting to Leclerc. And you’ve kept that cover up very well to say the least. But nothing was ever that easy. At the start, you thought nothing would screw this mission up for you, but that was until you fell for him. The months you spent together blurred together in a haze of danger. He let you in bit by bit, peeling back the layers of his empire with a subtle but growing trust. Charles kept you close — closer than he probably keeps anyone else. For the first two months, you reported back to Interpol any change you could get, feeding them intel on Charles. But that started to change during month 4. Month 4 was when you realised you loved him. And that’s when you realised he might love you too. So you flipped. You cut Interpol off one day, with no goodbye, no explanation, no nothing. And Charles.. Charles, a man known for being a bit greedy when it came to his women, he changed. For you. Before month 5, he would spent nights with other women, but when month 5 hit.. It all stopped. He gave you a promise ring for start. You started going out on dates at private, high-end restaurants every week. Multiple times a week if he had the time. He brought you along for business trips out of Monaco, you moved in together, whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ear everything. It wasn’t always sex every night. It was him telling you his deepest secrets. Showing you the most vulnerable sides of himself to you, the sides he swore he would never show to anyone. Until he found you. Everything was going so great. Until, you accompanied him to one of his many clubs that he owned to check on things. One of his men led the both of you to a private booth, Charles’ hand on your back. “Agent Emory?” Someone said. You froze. It was one of your higher-ups.