PROJECT ASTERIA

O N E

Carina Cordova walked into the bar with an aura of confidence, wearing a shimmering forest green dress and silver platform heels, and heads turned. Through the dark bar, which was painted black, decorated with red LED lights, she confirmed her location to the surveillance van outside, which held all the backup, in case things went awry.

If she needed anything right now though, it was courage. It was not her first mission, but for some reason, the agency made it sound extremely dangerous. And she had done enough of those to know that the missions where nothing happens initially were the worst ones. The real dangerous people never created anything flashy–it was all behind closed doors and abandoned warehouses.

Now was one of the moments where she was questioning her career choices. Her parents had both wanted her to go to college, get a degree, and learn something respectful so she could get a professional job in the medical or legal field. She got the first two parts done, but of course, she had to become a spy instead. At least she was working a government job, with miserable hours and even more miserable pay, but she'd get her pension when she retired—if she lived long enough to retire.

And the job was so contrasting. Sometimes she wanted to die because of all the terrible things people did to other people, and there was always a hint of a doubt and a "actually..." And then sometimes she wanted good tea, good food, authentic carbonara, and skiing. I want to die turned into I want to save the world turned into I want a better job. And she could only watch Netflix if she was alive. I want to live.

Carina slid onto the stool near the bartendress, whom she had grown to trust and develop a good friendship with, but for some reason, neither of them had ever bothered to learn each other's names. And she was good with that, as the girl gave her the usual drink combinations. Tonight though, she wasn't going to drink and she had no plans of flirting with anyone.

Her eyes landed on the target.

A floor of the club had been booked by a group of highly contentious and suspicious VIPs, and there were clearly many hidden bodyguards milling around. She was only after one man, who had agreed to meet her for a single night.

Igor "The Beast" Levin.

As stupid as the nickname was, there was a reason for it, and she really hoped she wouldn't have to meet it, knowing his family's reputation. But there he was, checking his watch, clearly waiting.

For her.

"Mr. Levin?" She smiled brightly, and the young man turned. He was probably no older than twenty-five, which made it all the while worse. Nobody liked hurting someone near their own age.

"Ah, you must be Liliana," he greeted, keeping his eyes glued to her face. They glittered like diamonds in the night sky. "Nice to meet you. You look wonderful."

For a supposed criminal, this guy was kind of hot in the way that an actor was a heartthrob. "Thank you, sir," she said, keeping her smile sensual and sweet, preventing them from roaming down his body. "As do you."

He was wearing formal evening attire–jet black that complimented his eyes and hair, and he looked downright beautiful in the way that a forbidden painting was beautiful. She tried to keep herself focused when he gently grasped her hand and kissed it.

"May I call you Lily?" He asked. "As beautiful as the flower itself."

"Thank you, sir," she blushed, playing along with the coyness, but not really. "Our meeting?"

"Let's get some privacy," he said, pointing to another floor, reserved solely for VIPs.

He wasn't fully intoxicated, but he definitely had more than a few shots, and she could smell the alcohol in his breath. She let him lead her up the stairs, with him right behind her. He held her hand the entire time, gently and firmly at the same time–gentle enough to assure her, but firm enough to not let her walk away.

"How are you this fine evening?" He asked, breaking the ice as they walked away from the allure of the club and the partygoers. Mystery stemmed from Igor, whose expression was both serene and amused.

"Could be better," she admitted, sighing. "Life is just so tiring."

He grinned crookedly. "For all of us, eh?"

The Slavic man opened a door, leading to a private conference room, with a balcony overlooking the beach. "Nice view," she wowed. "Do you come here often, sir?"

"Drop the formalities," he smiled. "I'm not that much older than you, Lily."

She chuckled nervously.

"Alright," he said, his tone changing quickly from seduction to that of a cold-blooded killer. "To the business that we agreed on. Mr. Stefanovic said you wanted to work for me, yes?"

"With," she corrected. "Not for."

"I know you've done some... favors for me before through Stefanovic, but you have not yet proven yourself worthy of being my partner," he raised an eyebrow, giving her a patronizing look, as if reminding her that he was still the man in the room. "You do realize who I am, correct?"

"Of course. I know what I ask for as well."

Igor sighed. "Let me get this straight," he said. "You, a newly graduated college student, want to work with me, turning down my offer, knowing full well that I'm going to deny yours?"

"Absolutely," she said. "Because when you hear the details, you're going to accept it."

A standoff. She knew he could not possibly resist.

His eyes twinkled. "Go on."

She pulled out a file, throwing it on the table, aggressively enough to make a point, but not so aggressive that he would take it the wrong way. He opened the file to reveal a picture of a young boy. The man looked up at her, slight confusion disguising his true emotions, which were now panic and fear. The atmosphere of the room seemed to have changed with this one picture.

"What is this?" He asked, knowing full well what it was.

"Armon Soltani," she said, then smiled sickly sweetly, reading him her own terms and conditions, along with a final charade of what she would bring to his table. With each word, she saw the panic recede in his eyes as he began to trust her. Wrongly trust her. And she felt bad for each time she had to lie to people to get what she wanted, but they were usually criminals.

"So, what do you think?" Carina tilted her head.

"I think I like those terms," he looked into her eyes, before pulling a piece of paper and pen out of his pocket. She knew he was a snake, and would not hesitate to betray her if it came down to it. But she needed to figure out everything, and this was apparently the best way to start, according to Mr. Stefanovic. He put his hand forward for her to shake it, and she met it with an equal firmness, after signing the paper with a heavy pen.

The signature was to flirt with death.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Lily," he stood up.

"Likewise, Igor," she answered, then smiled coolly. "Will I have a welcome party?"

He smirked. "Welcome to ASTERIA."