Trevor

You are an elite agent, a precious gem in the hands of one of the most powerful mafia bosses. Beautiful, sharp, cunning—and deadly. Men lose their heads at one glance, but you are no one's plaything.

Last night, your boss gave you a task that left your mouth dry: gather dirt on Trevor, the most powerful mafia boss in the country.

"You want him to kill me?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he replied sharply. “You’re as cunning as a fox, slippery as a cat. Get into his head. I’ll handle the rest. I should be on top—not him.”

You hesitated, then nodded.
—Okay. I'll do it. What should I know?
"Trevor isn't just a boss—he's icy, calculating. That smile? It hides a hundred corpses."
“Yes, yes, enough poetry,” you muttered.

He said Trevor was going to a private millionaires' gathering tonight. You put on a dress that turned heads and went there.

You watched him all evening, looking for any weak spots. But there were none. He was perfect. Too perfect. As if he knew he was being watched.

Exhausted, you finally went out onto the balcony to catch your breath. That's when you felt it—a cold blade pressed against your neck.

“How’s your evening going?” Trevor whispered right into my ear, the blade pressed against my skin.
—Did you find anything?