I realized I had been staring a second too long and forced myself to look away, lifting my glass as if I'd been more interested in the drink than in him.
Focus.
This wasn't the time for distractions—especially not ones wrapped in tailored black suits.
And what's so special about him,he is like every other guy l have met. He shouldn't be taking much of my time.
The room hummed with low conversations and soft music, crystal glasses clinking like quiet warnings.
I moved with the crowd, slow and effortless, playing the role I had been given.
A guest. Elegant. Harmless. Invisible.
Or so I thought.
"I don't believe we've met."
The voice came from beside me—calm, deep, unmistakably controlled. My pulse jumped, just slightly, before training pulled it back into line. I turned, already wearing a polite smile.
"No," I said smoothly. "I don't think we have."
Up close, Alexander Qinn was even more unsettling.
The sharpness of his features, the way his grey eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary—it felt like being studied under a microscope.
Not hungry. Not curious. Calculating.
"You're one of the special guests," he said, not a question.
"I am," I replied. "Is that a problem?"
The corner of his mouth twitched—barely there, but enough to notice.
"Not at all. I was simply wondering who managed to impress my father enough to earn an invitation."
So he was watching. Noted.
"I suppose some mysteries are better left unanswered," I said lightly, meeting his gaze without blinking.
For a moment, the noise of the room faded. It felt like a silent standoff, neither of us willing to give ground. Then he inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a worthy opponent.
"Enjoy the evening," he said. "These
gatherings tend to reveal more than people intend."
"I'll keep that in mind," I replied.
As he walked away, I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening around the glass in my hand.
I wondered why he was so intriguing and had that ura which kinda pulled in and pushed away at the same time.
This wasn't just surveillance anymore.
This was a game.
And somehow, Alexander Qinn already knew we were playing.
I let a few seconds pass before moving again—long enough for my pulse to settle, short enough not to draw attention.
Then my earpiece buzzed, soft and almost intimate.
"You okay?" Liam murmured. "You went
quiet."
"I'm fine," I whispered, drifting toward a marble pillar near the edge of the hall. "I just met him."
A pause. "Alexander?"
"Yes."
Another pause—longer this time. "And?"
"He's… observant," I said carefully. "Doesn't waste words. Definitely not as distant from the business as the files suggest."
"That's what I was afraid of," Liam replied. "Try to stay light. Don't dig too deep too fast."
"I know," I said, though my eyes were already scanning the room again.
That's when I noticed the shift.
People were subtly rearranging themselves—guards repositioning, conversations lowering. It was the kind of movement you only noticed if you were trained to. Someone important was about to speak.
Ezekiel Qinn appeared at the top of the stairs, tall and imposing despite his age, his presence snapping the room into attention. Alexander stood a step behind him, expression unreadable, hands clasped calmly behind his back. And there were guards with them too, it seemed like hwas making a toast.
"A family of predators," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?" Liam asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Ezekiel's about to address the room."
As his voice carried through the hall—smooth, commanding, practiced—I used the distraction to move. I brushed past small clusters of guests, listening for names, deals, alliances.
Fragments stitched themselves together in my mind: ports, shipments, dates that didn't match public records.
Then, suddenly—
"You're very good at disappearing."
I froze internally. Slowly, I turned.
Alexander again. Closer this time.
"I didn't realize I was doing that," I said.
"You did," he replied. "Most people want to be seen here."
"And you?" I asked. "Do you?"
His gaze flicked briefly toward his father before returning to me. "I don't have that luxury."
There it was. A crack. Small, but real.
Before I could respond, a waiter passed between us, and Alexander stepped back, as if the moment had never existed.
"Be careful tonight," he said quietly. "Not everyone here leaves with the same secrets they arrived with."
Then he was gone—swallowed by the crowd like a ghost.
He was starting to confuse me alot like l can't possibly read him that easily.
My earpiece buzzed again, urgent now.
"You need to hear this," Liam said. "Our informant just sent an update. Alexander isn't just next in line. But soon he will, l guess that is why they even hosted the banquet."
I closed my eyes for half a second.
"Tell me."
"He's already running things. His father's just the face. Just for a leverage maybe."
I opened my eyes, staring at the place where Alexander had stood moments ago.
So that's why he looked at me like that.
This mission wasn't about taking down a target anymore.
It was about understanding him.
And somehow, that felt far more dangerous.
And l also l couldn't possibly kill him even though l wanted to, that's why this mission was somehow going to take me alot of energy.
I lingered near the edge of the corridor longer than necessary, pretending to admire one of the portraits while my mind mapped exits, guards, blind spots.
The west wing felt different—quieter, colder, like the building itself was holding its breath.
I took a step forward.
"That corridor doesn't lead anywhere interesting."
I turned slowly.
Alexander Qinn stood a few feet away, hands relaxed at his sides, his expression unreadable. No guards this time. That alone set off alarms in my head.
"I was actually looking for the bathroom," I said, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh. "I think I took a wrong turn."
His eyes flicked past me, down the corridor, then back to my face. The pause was brief, but deliberate—long enough to make me wonder if he was already peeling the lie apart.
"The main restrooms are on the other side of the hall," he said. "But there's a private one nearby. Less crowded."
I tilted my head, feigning relief. "You might've just saved me from a very awkward evening."
For the first time, something close to amusement crossed his face—not warmth, not kindness, but a faint crack in the ice.
"Come on," he said, turning. "It's this way."
I followed him, matching his pace, every step measured. We walked in silence, the sound of the banquet fading behind us.
"You don't seem like the type who gets lost easily," he said casually.
"Everyone gets lost sometimes," I replied.
"Especially in unfamiliar places."
He glanced at me sideways, as if filing the answer away for later.
"You must be new in this job of being an escort?"
" Yeah, first times are always confusing."
So the ladies of distinction were escorts in disguise, geez this family just keeps getting better and better ironically.
" Well, you gotta get used to it."
I only nodded and then next thing we were there.
We stopped in front of a discreet door, unmarked, tucked between two pillars.
"There," he said. " This will work."
"Thank you," I said. "I appreciate it alot,l guess l owe you one." I said with a simple smile.
His gaze lingered again—sharp, thoughtful.
"Careful with debts," he said quietly. "They tend to come back."
With that, he stepped away, disappearing down the corridor as if he'd never been there at all.
I waited a few seconds before exhaling.
Only then did I realize my hands were trembling—just a little.
Because he hadn't exposed me.
But he hadn't believed me either.
And somehow, that felt far more dangerous.