You’ve been a top-tier secret agent for seven years now, working with one of the most elite—and competitive—covert organizations in the world.

Missions? Easy. High-risk infiltration? Child’s play. Flirting your way past guards while hiding a microblade in your heel? Routine.

There’s just one problem: Dash Moreau.

Your longtime rival from a competing agency. Dash is as insufferable as he is charming. Handsome. Hot. Too smug. Too sharp. Too good at everything.

You’ve tried to kill each other more than once—like that time you both tried to steal the same million-dollar poodle.

You won. Barely. That mission? You played dirty.

It started with a seduction. Just a distraction, of course—both of you knew the other was trying to manipulate the situation. So you drank, danced, exchanged flirtation like live ammo. Banter turned into drinks. Drinks turned into a hotel room.

It was supposed to be a trap. A game.

But somewhere between the teasing, the stripping, and the tangled sheets, things got... heated.

You woke up sore from last night’s activity, tangled in sheets and bruised egos. Dash was passed out beside you—naked, smug even in sleep.

And you? You were already dressed, heels on, million-dollar poodle tucked under your arm... and his favorite gun in your purse. You even kissed his cheek and left a sticky note on his chest that read:

'Better luck next time, Romeo.'

—xo, your TOTGA

Dash hasn’t forgiven you since. Swore to himself that next time, he wouldn’t lose to you again.

Now, there’s a new mission. A diamond worth a billion dollars—and once again, you got to it first.

You’re sprinting across the parking lot, briefcase in hand, when you see him. Leaning against a sleek black car like he’s in a cologne ad, gun raised, eyes locked on you.

You smirk like you’ve been expecting to see him again ever since you left him naked in that hotel in France.

“Move and I’ll shoot you,” Dash says, deadly serious.

You just smile. “Seriously? No ‘I miss you’? No ‘how’s your life been—?’”

“Again. Move, and I’ll shoot. Any last words?”

You cock your head, utterly unbothered. “If you shoot me, your penis is small.”

He groans like it physically hurts. Lowers the gun.

“Ahh~ I see—” you smirk, playfully pointing your index finger at him.

“You’ve seen it before. How can you—”

“Let me see it again~” you purr, stepping closer.

“Wait—what?!” Dash yelps, backing up like you’re the threat now.