Chapter 3

Nova's POV

I decided to focus on my pasta, chewing more aggressively than I needed to. My mind was racing, discarding and building new plans with every second. The contract for this job was four million—a life-changing amount of money, even for someone at my level. Usually, a bounty like that was reserved for dictators or rogue generals. It made me look at the man across from me with a sense of more curiosity. Who exactly was Cairos Veyne that someone would pay four million to see him in a body bag?

As I considered this, a sudden commotion broke out in the far corner of the restaurant. A child was having a full-blown meltdown, screaming and flailing over something inconsequential. The mother was frantically trying to pacify him, her face flushed with embarrassment. It was loud, chaotic, and just what I needed.

I stole a quick glance at the scene, but my attention quickly shifted back to Cairos. He was watching the child, too, but he didn't look annoyed. He had a faint, genuine smile on his face, like he actually found the tantrum endearing—like he had a soft spot for kids.

Doesn’t matter, I thought. Soft spot or not, he’s still the target.

This was my chance. I did a quick sweep of the room. The waiters were distracted by the noise, and the other patrons were busy staring at the struggling mother. No one was looking at our table. I moved expertly and waved my hand over his juice glass, making a face as if I were swatting away an imaginary fly. It was a ridiculous gesture because a restaurant this expensive didn't have flies, but it gave me the cover I needed.

In one smooth motion, I dropped the fast-acting sedative pill into the dark liquid. It vanished instantly. I went back to my pasta, my heart beating incredibly fast.

Cairos finally looked away from the child once a waiter stepped in to help. The kid calmed down, and the restaurant settled back into its quiet state. Cairos took a bite of his steak and then reached for his water, taking a long sip. My eyes were glued to his juice glass. I was dying from the anticipation. Drink it, I pleaded silently. You ordered it. Just take a sip.

He finished the last of his steak, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. I still had half my plate left. My stomach was in knots, and the idea of swallowing another bite of pasta felt impossible. From the corner of my eye, I watched his hand.

He reached for the juice. His fingers wrapped around the glass. He lifted it, bringing it slowly toward his lips. I held my breath, waiting for the moment his throat would move, signaling the beginning of the end.

Then, he stopped.

He held the glass just an inch from his mouth for a beat too long. Slowly, almost mockingly, he lowered it back to the table without taking a drop.

I looked up at him, my heart dropping into my stomach. He was staring at me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. The air in the room suddenly felt very thin. In that moment, the false act shattered. A wave of understanding hit me so hard it was dizzying.

He knew. He had known the whole time.

Cairos reached for the bloody steak knife he had used on his meal and began to twirl it between his fingers with a level of dexterity that made my blood run cold. He looked dangerous and unlike a businessman.

"Nova Dion," he drawled. His voice was low and lacked any of the easy charm from before. There was a hard edge to his voice.

I didn't flinch, though every instinct told me to run. I stared back at him, my voice steady. "Cairos Veyne."

He smiled wildly, showing a flash of white teeth. "Sedatives in the drink? Isn't that a little cowardly? It’s unlike you."

I dropped the pretense entirely. My posture shifted from that of a shy girl to that of an alert assassin. "You know me, then?"

"Casually," he said, still twirling that knife. "Who doesn't know one of the deadliest assassins in Monaco? Your work is clean, Nova. Usually."

"And you know that because...?"

He smirked, leaning forward until we were only a few feet apart. "Because we’re in the same line of work."

I watched him warily. The way he handled that knife wasn't just for show; he moved like it was an extension of his own hand. If he was an assassin, then the four-million-dollar bounty made sense. But then a realization hit me like a freight train. If we were both here on a blind date set up by "elite clients", and he knew exactly who I was...

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"We're here for the same reason," I whispered to myself, the words tasting like lead.

Cairos must have seen the moment the penny dropped. His eyes crinkled at the corners. "That’s right, petite guerrière," he said, using a French term for 'little warrior.' "I was sent here to kill you, too. Though, my source is better than yours because I have already known of you and your plan whereas you were kept in the dark. It’s a shame, really. You’re much prettier than your file photo."

My hand moved instinctively toward the small of my back, reaching for the 9mm tucked into my waistband. I did it under the cover of the table, but I didn't miss the way his other hand had vanished beneath the white tablecloth as well. We were sitting at a candlelit table in a five-star restaurant, both of us probably gripping a cold piece of iron.

This was supposed to be low-key. It was supposed to be a "slip a pill and finish the deed" kind of night. Now, it was a standoff. One wrong move and this high-class dining room was going to turn into a slaughterhouse.

I was poised to strike, my muscles coiled like a spring. I locked eyes with Cairos. He wasn't moving, either. He was watching me with the calculated patience of a man who had done this a hundred times before. Neither of us wanted to be the first to draw and alert the room, but neither of us was going to let the other walk out alive.

The silence between us was deafening, a sharp contrast to the soft jazz playing in the background.

"So," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "What now?"

Cairos’ grip on the steak knife tightened. "Now? Now we see who's faster."