As we arrived at the venue, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and tension. The air was thick with anticipation, and a sense of urgency permeated the crowd. Security was tight—a daunting reminder of the risks. As we stood together, I extended my hand toward him, offering a handshake. I said, "Ready, partner?". He replied, "Yes, of course! Let's go and win!"
As we move forward, our eyes scan the entrance. Two lines stretch ahead—one impossibly long, winding with impatience, and the other, shorter, reserved for the elite. The VIP line.
A silent breath of relief. The decision to secure VIP tickets spares us the agony of waiting, granting us a seamless passage through the turmoil. We step into the line, merging seamlessly into the privileged few, edging closer to the moment where everything will begin.
We stand in the queue, our turn just three people away. A thrill runs through me, my heart dancing with excitement and anticipation. If the scanning machine isn't hacked in time, if we're caught—everything ends here.
Vincenzo squeezes my hand, a silent reassurance. He doesn't speak, but his eyes hold mine, whispering a silent promise—Everything will be all right. Don't worry. But I know the truth. He's just as terrified as I am.
Then, our turn arrives.
The security team stands guard at the checkpoint. Jack, among them, presents a calm facade, but beneath it, anxiety simmers, carefully concealed behind practiced composure. He steps forward to conduct our security check.
We take slow, deliberate steps toward the scanner, our fingers entwined, gripping each other tightly. My breath catches as we step through—
Silence. The machine remains silent.
It worked. The hack is in place. We slipped through unnoticed, clearing the first and most crucial barrier. The moment we passed, relief floods, lightening the weight of tension—if only for a moment.
I glance at Vincenzo, and we exchange knowing smiles. His hand brushes against my cheekbone, his thumb tracing gently—a fleeting moment of tenderness amid the chaos.
Inside, the grandeur of the hall stretches before us. The space is massive, alive with energy. Crowds of high society figures mingle beneath glittering chandeliers. The VIP section remains secluded, set apart by sleek gold-trimmed barriers. The air hums with the scent of expensive perfume and whispered conversations.
We head toward the garden, where the lunch reception buzzes with lively chatter. The elites is here— cloaked in luxury, their laughter a shimmering mask for the secrets they conceal. Our eyes scan the space, absorbing every detail, searching for anything—anyone—suspicious.
Then, Bria appears.
Just then, Bria approached us, her tray laden with drinks. As I reached for a glass of wine, I noticed her slipping a folded note into my hand from beneath the tray.
I don't react. Not yet. I take the drink, nodding in polite acknowledgment, and move toward a quieter corner. Handing my glass to Vincenzo, I murmur an excuse. "I'll be right back. "He nods, his eyes flickering with understanding, as I disappear toward the restroom.
I moved cautiously through the crowd, alert to watchful eyes and hidden cameras. Stepping into the dimly lit restroom, I locked the door and slowly unfolded the note.
One glance.
The location. The precise spot where the bomb must be planted.
A deep breath. I smirked—now the game begins. The next phase of the mission has started.
I made my way back to Vincenzo, his presence commanding attention even in the bustling crowd. Rising onto my toes, I leaned in close, my hand resting lightly on his shoulder as I whispered every word from the note. He flashed a confident, almost knowing smile, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "Now it begins. Let's do it," he said.
As we returned to our seats, each sip of our drinks felt like a prelude to the chaos that was about to unfold. The event was plush and vibrant, and we were seated at a balcony seat that provided an unobstructed view of the hall below. A lady dressed in elegant attire flitted about, attending to us as if we were royalty, pouring drinks and ensuring our comfort. Yet, despite the luxurious surroundings, my mind was solely focused on the task ahead.
Then, Andrew Watson entered the event hall, the spotlight instantly shifting to him. His presence exudes power. Encircled by a wall of armed security personnel, their hands steady on guns and walkie-talkies, he steps onto the stage—the event's distinguished chief guest. He accepts the bouquet, our eyes remain locked on him, dissecting his every movement with unwavering precision.
As the event progressed, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. With each ticking moment, the time to execute our plan drew closer. We couldn't afford to let this opportunity slip away. Tension surged through me as we discreetly moved from the elegant hall, our paths carefully charted toward the location specified in the note.
As we approached the execution point, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursed through my veins. I spotted Matteo waiting there. I handed Vincenzo the bag containing the bomb, my heart racing as I sensed the gravity of what lay ahead. This is it—the moment we've meticulously planned for. I stood guard, scanning the area to ensure no one would interrupt our critical task.
After some time suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching. I dared to glance, and there he was—Andrew Watson, engrossed in his phone, oblivious to the world around him. A jolt of urgency coursed through me as I quickly alerted my team through the earphones, the tension palpable in the air. "Andrew Watson coming this way," I whispered, urgency creeping into my voice.
"How long do you need?" I asked Vincenzo and Matteo, my pulse quickening. "We need about five minutes," Matteo responded, his tone steady despite the chaos. Miss Serena's voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. "Eva, distract Andrew. Keep him away from here. By any means necessary, you must stop him from coming this way. Do something!", Miss Serna commanded.
I think and by taking a deep breath, I removed my earpiece and moved toward Andrew with determined steps. As I closed the distance, I collided with him, twisting my ankle in the process. I stumbled, barely catching myself as he instinctively reached out to steady me, his arms wrapping around me as our eyes locked. "Whoa, take it easy, Miss!" he exclaimed, genuine concern etched from him.
"I'm so sorry!" I replied, my voice tinged with embarrassment. "Thank you for catching me." Trying to regain my composure, I attempted to stand, but the pain shot through my ankle, rendering me helpless. "Hey, wait. Let me help you. You've hurt your foot," he said, and suddenly, he bent down, lifting me effortlessly into his arms and setting me gently down on a nearby chair.
I was caught off guard by his tenderness, my mind racing with apprehension. He knelt before me, a mixture of worry and kindness in his gaze. "May I?" he asked, and before I could respond, he carefully removed my heel, placing my foot on his thigh. "Oh, your foot is swollen," he noted, his hands skillfully massaging the tender skin.
His intense gaze held me captive. "By the way, what's your name? I haven't seen you here before," he inquired, his smile charming. "I'm Eva," I replied, trying to maintain my composure. "That's a beautiful name, just like you," he remarked, and my heart skipped a beat. "But I know who you are," I said.
His laughter rang out like music. "Oh really? How's that?" he asked. "You're the chief guest here. I saw you on stage," I explained, my cheeks warming under his gaze. He grinned, teasing me lightly. "Well, you've got a good sense of humour. I think you're quite interesting."
Our eyes locked, and time slowed for a moment. Just then, I heard Vincenzo calling my name, and relief washed over me as I turned to see him striding toward us, urgency in every step. "Are you okay, Eva? What happened?" he asked, concern etched across his face.
"I'm fine. Just twisted my ankle while walking. Don't worry—Mr. Andrew here saved me." As I spoke, Andrew stood, glancing between us with curiosity. "Who is he?" he asked, tilting his head. "He's my husband," I stated a glimmer of pride in my voice.
"Oh, nice to meet you, Mr…?" Andrew extended his hand, his demeanour still polite. Vincenzo took it firmly. "I'm Vincenzo. Thanks for taking care of my wife." There was an unspoken tension in the air, an invisible thread weaving us together in this chaotic moment.
Suddenly, Andrew's secretary and security personnel emerged, urgency written on their faces. "Sir, where have you been? You're needed back at the event," one of them implored. Andrew sighed, glancing back at us. "Nowhere important. Just stepped outside for a call. Let's go." He turned to me, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Okay, I have to leave. Hopefully, I'll see you later, Eva."
As he walked away, I felt an unexpected flutter in my stomach. The tension, the chaos, and the undeniable connection lingered in the air, leaving me both exhilarated and uncertain about what lay ahead...