| At The Verge Of The Game

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 

My breathing continued to quicken almost irrationally at the sight, and it took a concerted effort to keep my hands from shaking as I took the jacket and walked over to hang it in my tiny closet. It was no surprise that he was armed — it would be a shock if he wasn't — but the gun was a stark reminder of who Lucian Bologna was.

What he was.

It's no big deal, I tell myself, trying to calm my frayed nerves. I was used to dangerous men. I was raised among them. This man was not that different. I was going to sleep with him, get whatever information I could, and then he'll be out of my life for good.

Yes, that was it. The sooner I could get it done, the sooner all of this would be over.

Closing the closet door, I pasted a practiced smile on my face and turned back to face him, finally ready to resume the role of confident seductress.

Except he was already next to me, having crossed the room without making a sound.