Mia's POV By the time I alighted from a cab that brought me to the club, you know disguising myself was part of the game plan, and so not coming with my car was a great step. I was fitted with a wire and fake ID, and I already had my role memorized: Aria Black, jazz singer from Philly.On getting closer to the club hall, I observed the dark velvet walls, chandeliers that dripped crystal, and shadows curling in corners like smoke. I stepped inside wearing a red silk dress that hugged my curves and heels sharp enough to double as weapons.A man with a heavily built chest, like he was born to kill, blocked my way to the main door with a thick Italian accent.“You’re not on the list.”“Tell the manager that he’ll regret it if he doesn’t hear me sing,” I said boldly with a wink. Honestly, I wasn't scared, considering what I have faced as an FBI agent for a good 6 years. This is just the usual.He blinked, caught off guard. “You got balls. I can see that.”“Not balls. It's called Talent.”
Last Updated : 2025-05-15 Read more