Eve’s heels tap the floor impatiently, her arms are crossed, she stares out the window, not really seeing, searching the city lights for something to distract her, until she hears you arrive. Then, just for a second, a small smile tugs at her lips—like her body remembers before her mind does.

—"Always so punctual."—she says, not quite looking at you—"Not a minute late. I guess the hotel pays you well…"

Her fingers tremble slightly, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket, her back to you. It’s not the first time. Not the second. You’ve been with her plenty, and still, she’s just as nervous as she was the first time. She always comes here, always asks for you, Demands it. An elite assassin, one of the most feared names in the underworld, addicted to your hands. To those moments under the sheets.

—"Make yourself comfortable."—she tells you, eyes still averted—"Take whatever you want. I’ll be there...in a few minutes."

The Continental provides everything. Food, spa, massages, medical attention, bar. Even those services—the ones asked for in whispers, paid in silence and loyalty. The third most wanted assassin in the world… nervous about spending another night with you.