Leaving For Milan

The morning sunlight spilled unevenly across the sleek agency headquarters. Jay sat at the end of a long conference table, scrolling through the digital files projected on the big screen. He barely registered the hum of conversation around him, voices blending into white noise. Mission details, updates, protocols — none of it mattered right now.

“Jay! Jay!”

The voice was sharp enough to yank him from his daze. He lifted his head, blinking. “Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the director’s assistant standing impatiently by the door.

“You’re the one for this,” the assistant said firmly, tapping a document. “You’re leaving. Today.”

Jay’s hand froze on the table. “Me?”

“Yes. You’re the best we’ve got,” another agent added, nodding toward the others around the table. “Jay will handle it.”

Jay exhaled sharply, resting both hands on the polished surface. He swallowed. “Alright. I’ll go.”

The meeting wrapped up, and as Jay walked into the hall, two familiar arms draped around his shoulders — Kim on the left, Alex on the right.

“Drinks tonight,” Kim suggested with a teasing grin.

“Good idea,” Alex added, smirking.

Jay shrugged them off, muttering, “No, I’m not coming.”

They weren’t about to let him off that easily. By the time they reached the small bar near headquarters, a cold pint of beer was placed in front of him. Jay downed it in one gulp, slamming the glass on the counter. “That’s not fair! Me? Why me?”

Kim leaned casually against the bar. “Because you’re the good one,” she said, eyes glinting.

Alex, chewing on a snack, tilted his head mischievously. “And because you’re the one who never says no.”

Jay gave him a blank stare. “Date someone? I… I don’t have anyone.”

Alex laughed, nudging him playfully. “Are you sure? We could fix that.”

Kim smacked Alex lightly on the back of the head. “Stop teasing him!”

Jay sighed, leaning his forehead onto the table. For a moment, he imagined his sister, his quiet life at home, a world where he didn’t have to be the perfect agent. He pushed the thoughts away and reached for his beer again. “Yeah… fine, I’ll drink.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Kim warned, smirking.

“I’m fine,” Jay muttered, though his fingers tightened around the glass.

By the end of the night, they piled into a taxi, laughing and teasing each other along the way. Jay let himself be pulled along, despite protesting, until they arrived at Kim’s apartment. Alex vanished into the bathroom, muttering something about “surviving the night,” while Kim flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Jay sank onto the sofa, exhausted, letting the events of the day wash over him.

Morning came too quickly. Sunlight painted the room gold as Jay opened his eyes. Alex and Kim were still asleep, tangled in blankets. Jay stretched, sitting up. “Wake up. We have work,” he muttered, shaking his head with a small smile.

They dressed, perfectly suited, and left for the agency headquarters. Walking through the building, Jay noticed the ordinary lives behind the agents — men and women with families waiting at home, secrets they would never share. Jay’s own life was built entirely on secrecy.

He reached the director’s office, heart already tightening. “May I come in?” he asked.

“Jay!” the older man smiled warmly. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Jay replied, keeping his tone neutral.

“You’ve seen the report?” the director asked, eyes twinkling. “You don’t want to do this, do you?”

Jay’s mouth tightened. “Yeah… I don’t.”

“But you have to,” the director said firmly, placing a thick folder on the desk. “You’re leaving for Italy. Your name stays Jay. You’re the perfect person for this mission.”

Jay exhaled slowly and accepted the documents. He glanced at the file — photos, notes, mafia profiles. One name stood out: Rafael “Rafe” Bianchi. The mafia boss of Milan, infamous for his ruthlessness, his dominance, and… apparently, his taste in men.

The assistant appeared with a small suitcase. “Your things are here. And you’ll need to change your appearance for the mission,” she said.

Jay opened the room to find a sleek, modern suit laid out on the bed. It looked more like a model’s outfit than a spy’s disguise. Jay froze. His eyes scanned the documents again — Rafe liked handsome, sharp-featured men. Jay groaned inwardly. Of course… they all want models.

He changed quickly, straightening the jacket, running his fingers through his jet-black hair, and catching his reflection. Sharp, cold, dominant — someone who could sit on a mafia boss’s radar without being noticed… or maybe noticed in exactly the right way.

Grabbing the documents and the suitcase, Jay left for Italy, feeling the familiar mix of dread and excitement swirl in his chest. Every step toward the plane, every thought of Milan, brought one question forward: What kind of man is Rafael Bianchi — and am I ready to face him?

As he boarded, Jay couldn’t help the shiver of anticipation. This wasn’t just another mission. This was a game of dominance, secrecy, and forbidden attraction. And somehow, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like losing.