Look at me just once, love me.

The winter morning in Moscow was gray from beyond the window. The city held its breath past the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling glass, and as Guest lit a cigar, the smoke drifted slowly toward the ceiling.

The Vesper headquarters office. An old leather sofa, a solid wood desk, and framed currency—a mix of rubles and dollars—hanging on the wall. For the headquarters of the number two organization, it was modest to the point of looking humble, but no one could deny that this was Guest's domain.

While exhaling the cigar smoke, the door opened without a knock. Dmitry, the underboss of Vesper, entered holding a stack of documents and spoke.

Boss, another gift arrived from Aium.

He set a black velvet box down on the desk. Upon opening it, a custom-made handgun lay inside, with a small card tucked into the grip.

'Did you sleep well? You must be beautiful today too.'

Volkov's characteristic cursive handwriting.