Chapter 3 Blue Iris.

My heart pounded like a distant drumbeat, as I sat patiently for the man who held the key to my fragile hope. As I waited, a whirlwind of thoughts consumed me- Will it go well? Are they a man or a woman? What if they didn't like me? What if they don't agree to do this?

As I lacked experience in interacting, I had no idea how to set up a meeting. For this reason, I decided to look at presentable as possible and chose the most luxurious location I could, even if it meant for a few minutes, I knew this was going to change everything.

I had worn a Versace Jeans Couture midi dress that was beautifully printed with water color strokes. Its sleeveless arms exposing my olive skin perfectly blended with the golden-yellow hues in the dress. For shoes, I decided my black LV roxy platform sandal would be the best choice. As much I wanted to look presentable since it was my first engagement with someone, I considered that over-dressing up would make a bad impression. Therefore, I did not wear any accessories except for my golden Gucci hoop earrings and Blvgari Serpanti watch.

I stared at the envelope before me, sitting anxiously as I waited. I heard the restaurant door open and I immediately looked towards entrance's direction. There stood a man of about 6 feet tall, his brown almond eyes searching for someone. As soon as I looked at him, he felt a gaze upon himself. He narrowed his diamond shaped-face, accentuating his refined features. He walked towards my table and sat before me.

The most extraordinary feature of this man were his lashes. They were strangely longer and beautiful than a woman's ever could be. His long, straight lashes framed his chocolatey eyes, so deep I could get lost in them. His thick flat eyebrows were slightly angled at the end, somewhat shadowed by his deep black hair that flowed like waves of an ocean. His straight nose and angular jawline added to his striking appearance, radiating determination and intensity.

For someone with an attractive appearance as his, the clothes he wore looked oddly mismatched. He had worn a black denim jacket over a cheap white shirt, along with black trousers and black boots. However, with his striking features, his clothes did not bother me as much as I disliked dirty clothing.

He narrowed his gaze at me, as though he were trying to read my mind. He seemed as someone who was not ready for small talks, rather only talk about what's work.

"Hello," I greeted, "I was the one who sent the Email."

"I see," he replied in his deep voice, "I'm really grateful that you recognized me."

"Not to mention," I smiled slightly, still nervous, "I'm Rose. You are?"

"You can call me Shade," he replied, placing his arms on the table, fingers interlaced, "I'm not much of a talker. Give me the picture of my victim and I shall start working on it."

What irked me was the fact that he was too straight-forward. Why did it bother me? What was I expecting? Surely, we're here for work and I'm his client. Perhaps, I wanted to talk about more than just work? Or maybe I wanted acknowledgement for the effort I put for this meeting? I didn't know. I disregarded my thoughts and replied, "Sure, I got it here," I moved the envelope towards him, "Your first victim."

He opened the envelope with his long fingers. As he opened, I looked at his disheveled hair, noticing a little bit of what I assumed was dust clinging to the strands. "What?" he frowned, "Are you serious?" he seemed confused, "This is no time to joke."

"I'm not joking either," Why would I? I wouldn't be spending euros on this meet if I were joking, "What happened?"

He turned the photograph of the victim towards me, "This is you! You're my client, not the victim."

"I know," I leaned back, "That is who you must kill."

"Listen," he tossed the photo and spoke seriously, "If you mean that you're here to deal a contract with me to kill you, why don't you go and just kill yourself?"

"That is the problem, Mister," I leaned forward now, trying to explain, "As much as I want to die, I can't seem to kill myself. I've tried. I don't know what is it that's stopping me. Maybe its fear? I can't tell. So, I want you to give me a painless death. "

"Then you've contacted the wrong person," he stood up, fury radiating from every pore, "An assassin never kills their contracted client unless the contract expires and a new contract is signed to terminate the previous client." Impatiently, he stormed out of the restaurant. I sat there, trying to process what had happened. Why did I go through all this trouble, only to face rejection? No, I thought to myself, I can't lose hope. I can't afford to live in silence anymore. I need him. Only he can release me from this torment.

Realizing he must have not gone too far, I stormed to the restaurant door to find him.