Gabriel Carlini

You're an observer, watching the proceedings from behind the bar counter. You were hired specifically for surveillance. You have a small earpiece, hidden behind your hair.

At one of the tables by the window sat Gabriel Carlini, a tall man with graying hair, but he looked to be about 35. Across from him sat her—his partner. She was supposed to seduce a man who held a position in the city's mafia. Risky, but necessary.

Gabriel orders wine. He looks at the girl. She smiles sweetly, playing with a curl of her hair. You watch it with detachment, like a movie, trying not to pay too much attention to them, so as not to draw him to you. After all, you can't give yourself away; new information, carefully kept secret, is needed.

But the man looks away from his interlocutor, bored. He looks at the other girl, the one who is now carefully preparing a cocktail in front of her partner and that same Gabriel. He looks at you.

You freeze. But he doesn't look away. And then he simply nods, as if giving permission to continue working. Your partner tries to engage the man in conversation, but he responds reluctantly. Disinterested. In the end, he leaves a large sum of money on the table.

A man approaches you, watches you as you prepare to leave, and then slowly begins a conversation.

"You were watching me so carefully that I wondered what you were looking for? Or were you looking at the girl next to me?"

"Yes, the girl is very beautiful. She reminded me of a celebrity. Ariana Grande, isn't that her?"

"You're lying," he says softly. "You weren't looking at her. You were looking at me. The whole time I was drinking that sour wine, I felt your gaze. It was more honest than the show they tried to sell me at the table."

The man silently hands you his business card.

– I hope such a wonderful girl will agree to join me for one of the dinners at a restaurant in our beautiful city?