Tempted by the Temp

Chapter 1

Sophia

I never believed in fate. I was the kind of woman who built her own future, carved my own path, no matter how many obstacles stood in my way. But as I stood in the dimly lit alley behind La Rouge, the exclusive Manhattan nightclub where I worked, I couldn't shake the feeling that fate had just caught up to me.

The sharp scent of rain mingled with the distant hum of the city, but all I could hear was the steady, measured footsteps approaching me. A chill ran down my spine, a warning that I wasn't alone. I turned slowly, gripping my purse tighter as my heart started to pound in my chest.

The man before me was a stranger, but everything about him screamed danger. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a fitted black suit that didn't hide the raw power beneath it, he was the kind of man you noticed, the kind of man who could have stepped out of a crime thriller. His dark hair was slicked back neatly, and his face... His face was both beautiful and terrifying. High cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and eyes-piercing blue eyes that locked onto mine like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Ms. Williams," he said, his voice low and thick with a Russian accent. It was like the sound of velvet, smooth but carrying an undercurrent of danger. Something about the way he said my name made me feel like I was the last person he should be talking to.

I fought the instinct to step back, to distance myself, but I couldn't. I forced myself to stand tall, even though every part of me wanted to flee.

"I don't know who you are," I said, my voice steady despite the racing of my pulse, "but if you're looking for trouble, I'm not in the mood."

The man smirked, and for a moment, I almost thought I could see amusement flicker in his eyes. "Trouble, printsessa?" His voice was rich, smooth like velvet, but there was a darker edge to it. "No. I am looking for you."

My heart skipped a beat. I hadn't expected that. I hadn't expected anything.

"I think you have the wrong person," I said cautiously, my mind working quickly, seeking an escape route. I had spent my entire life keeping a low profile, staying out of trouble. And now here I was, alone in an alley with a man who looked like he had stepped straight out of a mafia thriller.

His smile widened slightly, but there was no warmth in it. In fact, it was the kind of smile that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "I do not make mistakes," he said, taking a step closer. I instinctively took a step back, but he moved faster than I expected. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of me, his hand grabbing my wrist in a firm, yet controlled grip.

"You owe a debt, Ms. Williams," he said, his tone almost... patient.

I frowned, my mind spinning. "Debt? I don't owe anyone anything."

The man tilted his head, as though considering my words. Then, slowly, he said, "Your father did."

The world seemed to tilt beneath me. My father? A man I hadn't seen in years, a man I barely spoke about anymore. And now, his past-his mistakes-had come to claim me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered, though dread was already coiling in my stomach. The panic that started to rise in my chest was quickly smothered by the cold reality of the situation.

The man exhaled slowly, as if he had expected this answer. "Mikhail Ivanov," he introduced himself. "Pakhan of the Bratva."

Pakhan. The head of the Russian mafia.

My heart began to race even faster, and the edges of my vision blurred as I tried to process what he was saying. A part of me wanted to run, to scream, but I couldn't. I was frozen, trapped by his gaze and the certainty in his voice.