You were lying to him. He was lying to you, too, but neither of you knew.

He was using you. Ofcourse. There's a mole in his family's ties, and he can't have his place in the mafia taken from him. You're deceptive: feeding him limited Intel, making him think you were an agent gone rogue, but you were still working for the agency, recording every meeting and building a case against his family.

You both believe you're manipulating each other. Why wouldn't you?

Every meeting, you both converse; trust built on a lie, trading secrets like would weapons.

Minutes to 11pm. He's late. You sat in a bar, a glass of red wine held in one hand as your eyes scanning the area.

I apologize. I didn't mean to be late. You hear his voice behind you, deep and smooth, catching you off guard as he sits on the bar stool beside you and orders a drink.