Life As A Spy

Chapter 14

———————Editing from here on out———————
~Sage's Pov~

The gala operation went as well as it could have. I almost killed Frost during it but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

Catching the handoff was lucky. If Clara hasn't slipped up, it would have been easy, but she's young and learned from it. I still don't get why Melody thought this was a good idea. The mission hasn't been super dangerous but this all could have been resolved with two upper level agents, not six of us.

Also...I slightly made out with Frost. Did I want to? No. Was it terrible? Unfortunately, no. I didn't appreciate him trying to make me admit things like I missed him. Because I don't.

I stand by my statement that I almost killed him last night.

We took a car to the gala, held at the Hôtel Salomon de Rothschild. The drive was restless, mostly for Frost. He kept tapping his foot or checking his watch or sighing as he looked out the window. What his deal was I don't know. It's not like this was his first mission. If he was above a level two, he was cleared for field work in the continental U.S. and level four for international. He should be fine, except the tapping was getting on my nerves. How was I supposed to concentrate and get my character together when he was tapping his big feet off beat?

Luckily, the driver dropped us off right before I killed him.

It took maybe five minutes to get to the front of the estate where we could get out. A man in an entirely black tux and white gloves opened the door and helped me out. Isaac, upon getting out himself, possessively wrapped his hand around my waist as we walked in.

Don't commit a felony. Don't commit a felony. He's government property. You'll get court marshaled if you do. Vanessa will also have your head if you do. Just think about your promotion.

We walked in through the main entrance. The elegant interior was decked out with colorful lights and gold detailing everywhere. The room was beautiful don't get me wrong, but the party took away from the historical elegance of the ballroom.

Our first job was to blend in, and we did. I was in a very tight royal blue floor length dress. Diamonds dripped everywhere: my neck, my ears, my hair, my wrists. I'm surprised my shoes weren't embezzled. It was a nice change from jeans everyday. I also deeply encouraged Isaac to wear a black tux instead of the white one he wanted. They're easy to blend in with, especially with the catering if the occasion arose. Plus it would have clashed with my dress.

We walked toward the smaller second room that faced the famous gardens. It's where the fun began. Isaac held onto my arm fiercely like I would float away at any moment. His jaw was clenched so hard he could have cracked a walnut with it.

The gala was in full swing as we walked by, meaning a band was playing in the corner, while the bar was the busiest section of the room. The band was basically half an orchestra and played modern songs. They were pretty good. 

The second room was much smaller, meaning dancing was limited. A few waiters were carrying trays with hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Most guests were standing at small tables, conversing. This was probably the room where business took place. Galas are full of them. It's mainly what they're for. They might say they're benefiting a charity, but it's really the negotiations taking place behind the scenes.

"Why do people go to these things?" He pulls at his collar, while scanning the room, fixing his eyes on a man with quite a few younger woman standing beside him. Edward Griffiths, a notorious coward and arms dealer. I would arrest him, but I've done that twice in the last year. He has too much money for it stick. TSA has almost stopped trying to track down rich white male dealers. They never get convicted, and if they do, they pay a small fine and get out of everything with no jail time. It's not fair and a waste of our resources.