Chapter 2

Dalia

“ I said, what is going on here?”

As the man stares down the mechanic, I take a moment to do some staring of my own.

He’s tall, easily six and a half feet, with a physique that screams power and control. His black hair is impeccably styled, and those piercing gray eyes—my God, they flash with a quiet intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

His forearms are ropy and toned. I spot a deep scar on his neck and another on his right arm, hinting at a past that’s anything but ordinary. Everything about him exudes a powerful, dominating presence, like he’s a force of nature contained in perfect human form.

Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t even begin to cover it. His entire aura is magnetic, pulling me in. As much as I try to stay focused on my crappy situation, I can't help but feel a wave of heat spreading through me, pooling low in my belly.

My panties are getting soaked just looking at him. What the hell is wrong with me?

I shake my head slightly, trying to clear the fog of lust clouding my mind, but it's no use. The way he moves, the authority in his voice—everything about him has me completely entranced.

The well-dressed man rapidly tears into the mechanic, speaking Russian.

The mechanic tries to meekly stick up for himself, stammering out some weak excuses, but he's quickly shut down, looking more like a scolded puppy than the arrogant jerk from a few minutes ago.

The other mechanics around the shop stop what they're doing to watch the show. For a brief, wild moment, I wonder if Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous is going to grab a wrench and club the mechanic to death right here. He certainly looks like the kind of man who’s seen his share of violence.

The man barks one more thing at the mechanic in Russian, and the guy practically scampers off like a little boy.

With a casual sweep of his large hand, he moves a stray hair back into place, then switches to English, commanding the other mechanics to get back to work. They snap to it without hesitation.

Then, his eyes lock onto mine. For a split second, I think I might come on the spot, the intensity in his gaze sending shivers through me.

“Miss, would you mind coming to my office so we can further discuss the matter of your car?” he asks, his tone stern yet polite. His English is flawless, his accent slight.

My breath catches in my throat but I manage a nod. “Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

As he leads the way, I can’t help but admire the confidence and control in his stride.

We enter a small, cluttered office. The man’s eyes immediately zero in on a nude pinup on the wall.

"Pigs," he mutters under his breath as he tears it down and tosses it into the trash.

I get the distinct impression that this guy isn’t just the boss of the auto shop, but the boss of many other things, as well. He gestures for me to sit down and I instantly comply.

He leans against the desk, arms crossed, and looks down at me. "I was watching the floor on my phone," he begins, his voice calm but firm. "I apologize for the way my employee spoke to you."

I raise an eyebrow. "I was handling your mechanic just fine, but thanks."

He smirks, clearly amused by my response. "I was watching that, too. You’ve got quite the spirit. But all the same, I don't tolerate that kind of behavior from my employees. And it shouldn’t be your job to handle them, regardless.”

"Okay," I reply, crossing my legs and leaning back in the chair, trying to relax despite the situation. "So, what’s the plan for my car?"

He straightens up, his expression turning serious. "We’ll fix your car, and it’ll be on the house. Consider it a courtesy to make up for the way you were poorly treated just now.”

I blink, a bit taken aback. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," he confirms, his eyes boring into mine. "You deserve better than what you got out there."

I can't ignore the danger I sense from this man. He’s not just a businessman; he exudes an undercurrent of something far more sinister, like perhaps he’s deeply entwined in the city’s criminal underworld.

I clear my throat, feeling the need to assert some control over the situation. “Thanks, but I’m willing to cover the costs as long as they’re fair.”

He raises an eyebrow, his gray gaze piercing. “Are you sure?” It’s like he can see right through me, reading every doubt and struggle.

I hesitate, then admit, “Well, on installments.”

He thinks it over then nods. “Fine, an installment plan it is. But what you were quoted is bullshit. You’ll pay half the quoted amount—a hundred-dollar payment a month until it’s covered. Does that work?”

I’m momentarily stunned by his generosity but quickly gather myself. “Yeah, that works,” I say, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

He leans back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Good. We’ll get your car taken care of.”

He checks his watch then looks back at me. “I’ll make sure your new friend”—he says the words with a wry tone— “stays late to ensure your car is ready by the end of the day. And if the job isn’t done right, his career as a mechanic in this town is over. I’ll see to that personally.”

“Thank you,” I reply, still unsure of what to make of this man who exudes authority and danger in equal measure. I watch the way he moves and sits behind the desk, like he was born to be in control, commanding respect and fear effortlessly.

A small smile curls his lips, making my heart skip a beat.

“I’d like to add one more thing to our arrangement,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

“What’s that?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner,” he says smoothly.

My heart races, my pussy clenches, and a wild image pops into my mind—this man bending me over the desk, filling me with his almost-certainly huge cock, making me come until I can’t think straight. I clear my throat, forcing myself back into the moment.

“Dinner?” I echo, trying to keep my voice steady despite the heat coursing through my body.

“Yes, dinner,” he repeats, his eyes glinting with amusement, as if he knows exactly what’s going through my mind.

“I’m not really hungry,” I object, trying to keep my composure. But just as the words leave my mouth, my stomach betrays me with a loud growl.

He gives me a slight smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Your body says otherwise.”

My heart’s racing.

“My name is Lev. And you?”

I can barely speak.

“Dalia.”

“A pleasure, Dalia. A pleasure, indeed.”