The mask of the mission

. Chapter 1: The Mask and the Mission

The room reeked of smoke and cheap whiskey, as usual. The silence was so heavy you could have heard a pin drop, if not for the haunting ticking of the clock on the decrepit wall. Sitting opposite Jonas, my “boss”, I held his gaze without blinking.

— “Do you know why you’re here, Nina?” he asked in a deep voice that sounded like a warning.

I nodded, fingers clenched on the arm of the chair. Jonas wasn't one to waste time on niceties. Me neither, by the way.

— “A new mission?” I whispered.

He gave a twisted smile that made him both fascinating and frightening. His pitch black eyes fixed on me as he slid a thick folder towards me.

— “Not just any mission.” He paused, his words stretching out slowly. "Samuel Moretti. A much bigger fish than usual. And much richer."

I unfolded the file under his insistent gaze. Photos fell on the table: Moretti, a well-dressed fifty-year-old, with expertly styled gray hair, the carnivorous smile of people who think they have won everything.

— “What is he hiding?” I asked, my eyes glued to one of the photos of him shaking hands at a luxurious reception.

— “Anything you can imagine: cash, jewelry, compromising information. The guy is paranoid, but he likes appearances.” Jonas tapped the surface of the table with his fingertips, a nervous tic. “Tomorrow evening he is hosting a private reception at his home. You need to enter, charm, and gain access to his office. I need you to find this chest, and bring us back something valuable."

I looked up at him. Jonas never laughed, but tonight, a glimmer of mistrust seemed to shine in his pupils.

— “What if he burns me?” I said, provocatively.

His gaze hardened instantly.

— "Nina, you're not going to get burned. You're the best for this kind of job. But I'm telling you clearly: you fail, you're alone. Understood?"

I was silent before smirking.

— “I never fail, Jonas.”

An almost credible lie.

Back in my dingy loft, I swung my heels across the worn hardwood floors and dropped the file onto my unmade bed. Moretti. Just another face in a long list of men I had deceived, manipulated, and robbed. However, this mission smacked of danger.

I stood up, rummaging through my closet for the perfect outfit. For a private party in a billionaire's mansion, I needed something remarkable but strategic. A crimson red dress caught my eye: slit on the side, tight, just enough so that Moretti's eyes only saw me.

— “Perfect,” I murmured in front of the mirror.

I sat down at my dressing table, a small table covered with makeup, false eyelashes and cheap perfume. I tried to play the artist: smoky eyes for a fatal look, a scarlet red mouth that screamed both temptation and danger. When I stood up, my reflection gave me the image of someone else. Not Nina, but the one I became when the game started.

I grabbed a small black pistol, light as a feather, and slipped it under my garter. Always ready. Always armed. Safety was just a myth in this type of mission.

I took a breath, taking one last look at the mirror.

— “Come on, Nina, you’ve seen worse.”

The mansion was lit up like a Christmas tree in the dead of night. Expensive cars lined the cobblestone driveway, while an elegant crowd crowded under the glass doors. Standing in front of this scene, a shiver ran down my spine. No fear. Of concentration.

I got out of the taxi, the sound of my heels clicking against the wet floor. The red dress flowed around my legs as I walked toward the doors.

An imposing-looking guard blocked my way.

- "Name ?" he barked.

I took out a perfectly fake invitation card, presenting it with an angelic smile.

— “Jade Delacroix. I’m expected.”

The man frowned, looked at the map, then gave me one last look before walking away.

— “Come through.”

In the main room, the atmosphere was unreal. Crystal chandeliers twinkled from the ceiling, classical music vibrated softly in the air, and waiters passed between guests with silver trays laden with champagne.

I moved forward among the crowd, letting people look at me. The men in tuxedos looked at me with that eager look that was familiar to me. Perfect. I was just another distraction in a world full of pretense.

Then I saw it. Samuel Moretti, standing in a circle of men in suits. He laughed too hard, the kind of laugh that masked arrogance. His glass of champagne in hand, he seemed untouchable. I took a deep breath and started moving.

But as I approached, an unexpected thing happened. Another look caught mine.

Cold. Intense. A look that seemed to cut through me like a knife. It wasn't Moretti. No. This man was sitting further away, in the background, as if observing the entire room. His dark, almost menacing suit and calm demeanor clashed with the extravagance around him.

I felt my heart skip a beat. Who was he? Why did I feel like he had just seen past my mask?

I pretended to ignore him and continued on my way. But one thing was certain: this evening had just become much more complicated.

I walked towards Samuel Moretti with a calculated step, my head held high and my smile subtly drawn. The kind of smile that invited curiosity. He noticed me right away, as I had expected. The gaze of a man like Moretti could not ignore a slit red dress and such a confident gait.

— “Ladies and gentlemen, predators always fall into the trap they don’t see coming.”

He stopped mid-conversation, looking up at me as if the rest of the world had disappeared. His companions followed his gaze, but I didn't take my eyes off him.

— “Good evening, gentlemen,” I whispered, slipping next to him. My voice was soft, my words carefully measured. “I think I’m lost…”

Moretti arched an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on his lips.

— “Lost? In a room full of guests?”

— “Let’s just say that I’m looking for… good company.”

He laughs softly, with the laughter of a satisfied shark. I knew I had his attention. It was always like this: rich and powerful men liked to believe that they were chosen. That they were special.

— “And you are?” he asked, his voice as silky as it was dangerous.

I held out a delicate hand to him.

— "Jade Delacroix. A friend of a guest. But I must admit that I was terribly bored. Until now."

He kissed my hand with his lips, an old-school politeness that almost made me smile.

— “Samuel Moretti. You’re in the right place, Jade.”

— “I don’t doubt it,” I replied, my voice warm. I moved a little closer, grabbing a glass of champagne placed on a tray. “Tell me, Samuel… You seem like a man hiding big secrets.”

He frowned slightly, amused and intrigued.

— “Appearances are deceiving, my dear. And you, what are you hiding behind that look?”

I laugh lightly, a sound as elaborate as the rest of my coverage.

— “Thoughts that you would be very curious to discover.”

He devoured me with his eyes, prisoner of the game that I mastered to perfection. After a few minutes of exchanges where each word was a subtly pulled string, he finally inclined his head, his pupils bright.

— “You are fascinating, Jade. And I really like mysteries…”

His voice dropped a tone.

— “How about a drink somewhere more… intimate?”

My heart accelerated a beat. Bingo.

— “I follow you, Samuel,” I whispered.

Samuel led me through ornate corridors, his footsteps echoing heavily on the wooden floors. Every meter I traveled reminded me of what was at stake. Jonas was right: it was a big fish, and I was swimming in the open sea.

The room was as sumptuous as the rest of the mansion: walls lined with velvet, a king-size bed covered in a silk sheet, and a bookcase filled with books I doubted he had read.

— “Settle down,” he invited me, pointing to a leather armchair near a small bar. “A drink?”

— “With pleasure,” I replied, my voice perfectly calm despite the storm brewing inside me.

I watched him pour the whiskey carefully. When I was sure his back was turned, I discreetly took out the small vial hidden in the lining of my pouch. A drop of colorless liquid slipped into his glass when I had the opportunity to discreetly exchange our glasses.

He turned with a satisfied smile, holding the glass out towards me.

— “To the beauty of mysteries.”

I raised mine with a provocative smile.

— “And to those who know how to pierce them.”

We toasted. He drank, and I pretended to drink, watching every second. A few minutes later, his head tilted back slightly, and his breathing slowed. The sleeping pill had taken effect.

— “Sorry, Samuel,” I whispered, placing my untouched glass on the table.

I quickly got to work. Jonas had taught me how to search efficiently, without leaving any traces. I first located the chest: hidden behind a classical painting. An electronic code. Of course.

My fingers trembled slightly as I pulled out my lockpicking equipment: a small electronic tool capable of forcing codes in a matter of minutes. Each beep from the device seemed to scream into the silence of the room.

— “Come on, come on…” I whispered through my teeth.

After a few seconds, a discreet *click* sounded. The trunk opened. My breath caught at the sight of its contents: wads of neatly stacked notes, watches with golden highlights, and jewelry set with precious stones. A miniature fortune.

My hands were busy, throwing everything into the bag I had hidden under my dress. Each item slipped reminded me why I was there. Why I wasn't allowed to fail.

But fear gripped me. Every noise in the mansion, every creak of the wood made me jump. What if someone came in? What if Samuel woke up?

— “Breathe, Nina. You always got through it,” I whispered to reassure myself.

My throat was dry, my palms sweaty, but I continued until the trunk was emptied.

When I closed the trunk and put the painting back in place, I took a moment to breathe deeply. My heart was beating so hard it seemed like it could be heard throughout the mansion.

I took one last look at Samuel, sound asleep on the armchair. A mixture of guilt and triumph overcomes me.

— “Another lie. Another fooled wolf.”

I put my dress back on, grabbed my bag, and left the room in silence. But as I walked away, a fleeting thought crossed my mind:

“What if this time, the wolf wasn’t as asleep as I thought?”