Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sophia

12 hours before the party

I STAGGER out of the car in the murderous heels that Aleks forced me to wear. They're half a size too small, and already my feet are killing me. The bastard driver doesn't even offer a hand, just swings the door open and lets me tumble out ungracefully.

"Get moving," he snarls, his eyes trailing over me with disdain. "And don't forget, if you mess this up, you can kiss your dear brother goodbye. We won't think twice about making him vanish. For good."

I shoot him a withering glare, clenching my teeth as I suppress the fury bubbling inside me.

In my mind, I'm cursing them all – Aleks, this callous driver, and every other asshole in this sick game. But I can't let my emotions consume me. My brother's life hangs in the balance, and I can't afford even the slightest misstep.

Come on, Sophia, get your head back in the game.

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and begin the painful trek toward the entrance.

A grand building with lush gardens spans out before me. I gaze up at the massive pillars, which support a balcony on the second floor and stretch towards the sky like towers. A manor fit for the gods, it is a monument to wealth and power. I take a deep breath and steady my shaking hands, reminding myself of the stakes.

My brother's life.

My freedom.

Everything.

As I approach the front entrance, I can hear the sounds of music and laughter coming from inside. My heart races with anticipation, but as I try to get closer to the entrance, a large, burly bouncer steps in front of me.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says with a smirk, "but this is a private event. Guests only."

I can feel the eyes of the other guests on me, mocking me for my server uniform.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I must have missed the dress code memo that said only those with designer clothes and empty heads were allowed in."

The bouncer's smirk fades, replaced with a scowl. I stand there as the large man towers over me, blocking my path to the party.

"Listen, missy," he growls, "I suggest you turn around and go back to serving drinks. This function is not for your kind."

My cheeks flush with anger as I ball my hands into fists. "What do you mean ‘my kind'?" I demand. "I'm a server with the catering team. It's my job to be here."

He sneers down at me. "Then you belong ‘round back, not mingling with the guests. Now get lost before I make you regret it."

My heart pounding in my chest, I swallow back a retort and turn on my heel, heading around to the service entrance. As I walk away, I can hear the man's mocking laughter echoing behind me.

Urgh. What a dickhead.

I find my way to the back entrance, where I spot an imposing man searching everyone before they enter. He's built like a tank, with dark, wavy hair that's pulled back, revealing several scars that only seem to add to his rugged appeal. His piercing blue eyes are framed by strong, sculpted features, and he's dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit. As I approach, he looks up and fixes his gaze on me.

"Name?" he asks, his voice deep and authoritative. I fight down a shiver.

"Soph—" I catch myself just in time, my heart pounding against my ribs. "I mean, Sonia…it's Sonia Brown," I reply hastily, recalling the fabricated name Aleks had assigned me for this mission. I struggle to maintain a fa?ade of calm, steadying my voice as I teeter on the edge of jeopardizing my entire undercover operation. The weight of my precarious position presses down on me, and I wonder if my small slip will be enough to unravel the delicate web of deceit I've woven.

He glances at a list in his hand and nods. "You may enter, but first, a quick check for weapons and devices." He retrieves a handheld scanner from his pocket.

I swallow as I think of the microchips hidden in my hair, disguised as bobby pins. I need to be quick-witted and resourceful to pull this off. As he's about to scan me, I "accidentally" stumble, bumping into him and causing his scanner to fall to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, feigning embarrassment. We both bend down to pick up the scanner, and I use the opportunity to slip the microchips into the pocket of his pants. He doesn't notice, his attention focused on the scanner.

"It's alright," he says, straightening up and running the scanner over the lines of my body. "Just be more careful next time."

Holy shit, I almost peed my pants!

That was freaking close!

"Thank you," I reply, trying to suppress the relief that floods through me. He gives me a final suspicious look, and I step through the service entrance quickly, preparing to make my way into the building. As I pass him, I hesitate for a moment, allowing myself to truly take in the sight of the striking man. The undeniable allure he possesses is magnetic, but I can't let that distract me. Right now, my priority is to devise a plan to retrieve those microchips.

God, I hope he doesn't find them first!

Once inside, I can't help but marvel at the opulence surrounding me. Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the grand ballroom as I pass it. The air buzzes with excitement and tension, but I know I must stay focused on my task.

The place is a maze, and I slip off my shoes and carry them as I navigate toward the bustling kitchen. On my way, I overhear snippets of conversation among the servers. They share stories of their own mishaps and the strict expectations of the manager of the catering team. My nerves heighten, and I feel a bead of sweat trickle down the side of my face.

"Get a grip, Sophia," I mutter under my breath, hoping no one notices my unease.

"New girl! Over here!" calls a stern voice, drawing my attention to a hatchet-faced middle-aged woman. Her expression is all business, and I assume she is the manager everyone has been talking about.

"Ma'am?" I reply, trying to sound confident despite my trembling hands.

"You're late. Which means you're starting at a disadvantage, so you'll need to pick up the pace. Remember, walk like a lady, heels on at all times. We have a reputation to uphold," she instructs firmly, eyeing my feet with disapproval.

I look down at the shoes in my hand, realizing the challenge they present. I'll die in these heels, and the thought of having to move gracefully in them sends a ripple of anxiety through me. Nevertheless, I nod my agreement and slide my feet into the torturous shoes.

"Thank you, ma'am," I say, trying to put on a brave face.

The catering manager nods and turns away, barking orders at other servers. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the day ahead.

As the party begins, I find myself struggling to maintain my composure in the heels. It feels like an eternity drags by as I wobble and teeter, drawing the ire of my fellow servers. One particularly mean-spirited woman smirks as she watches me falter.

"Careful, darling," she taunts. "Wouldn't want to spill anything on these expensive carpets."

I grit my teeth, refusing to let her mockery derail me. I have a mission to complete, and I can't afford any distractions. With renewed determination, I straighten my back, hold my head high, and continue dealing with the challenges before me.

As I carry a tray of champagne glasses, I wind through the sea of elegantly dressed partygoers. Men in tailored suits and women in luxurious gowns mingle, their laughter and conversation filling the air. In the dimly lit corners of the room, I catch glimpses of couples exchanging passionate kisses and embraces, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

I scan the room, searching for the man I slipped the microchips to earlier. The opulence and decadence of the party are distracting, but I know I have to stay focused on my mission.

Suddenly, I spot him across the room, engaged in conversation with a stunning woman in a red dress. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment, and I feel my heart race. I need to get those microchips back, but I can't afford to draw attention to myself. Taking a deep breath, I approach with a practiced smile.

"Drinks, sir?" I ask, extending the tray toward him. He glances at the tray, then back to the woman he's been talking to, and finally nods.

"Yes, thank you," he says, taking a glass. Our eyes lock for a moment, and my breath snags in my throat, my cheeks flushing for a reason I can't quite understand. As he turns back to his conversation, I hear the woman teasing him.

"Dimitri darling, you have a thing for the help?"

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Not at all. Just appreciating good service."

Cunt.

Circling Dimitri like a vulture, I plaster a wide-eyed, innocent grin on my face. I"m about as innocent as a fox in a henhouse, but they don"t need to know that. The woman glowering next to him doesn"t look thrilled by my presence. Perfect.

"Sir," I start, my voice syrupy sweet. I gesture to my tray, filled to the brim with champagne glasses. "Would you mind helping me?"

His eyebrow hikes up, intrigued. Or maybe confused. Doesn"t matter. His attention is on me, and that"s all I need.

"Well, it"s just that I can"t decide..." I trail off, pretending to fumble with the tray. The glasses wobble precariously, and before I can stop it, one tumbles off, spilling champagne all over the designer dress of the woman next to Dimitri.

"Oh no!" I gasp, playing up the innocent act. She looks like she wants to strangle me, but Dimitri is already moving to help her. Bingo.

As he"s distracted, I dart my hand into his pocket, feeling the cold metal of the bobby pins against my fingertips. Got them. I pull my hand back just as Dimitri turns back around, his scowl enough to make me want to run for the hills.

"Right," I mumble, taking a step back. "I should really get back to work. So sorry about the dress, ma"am." And with that, I bolt, leaving the scowling woman and the equally annoyed Dimitri behind.

Mission accomplished. Sophia - one. Mafia - zero.

As I slither through this godforsaken room, I can sense Dmitri's steely eyes piercing into my back. I'm left with a bewildering concoction of adrenaline and intrigue rushing through me. But my fingertips are tingling, and I have a feeling it has nothing to do with the nerves I'm fighting. I got the chips, though, and that's what matters.

Thank fuck!

My heart races as I move back through the crowded room, trying to keep my cool while internally freaking out. I mean, seriously, who would've thought I'd end up playing spy and planting devices in a mafia boss's mansion? I'm definitely no James Bond.

Holding the tray awkwardly in one hand yet again, I quickly secure the bobby pins back into my hair, each one hiding a tiny spy device. One step closer to planting the damn things, yet I have no clue where the hell Luka's room is. It's like searching for a needle in a haystack the size of Texas.

Struggling to maintain my balance, I feel a pang of envy as I watch the other women in the room glide effortlessly in heels even taller than my own. The contrast between their grace and my own clumsy movements only adds to the mounting pressure I feel.

How do they do it?

I wobble slightly, steadying myself against a nearby table. I've never been one for fancy footwear, and right now, I'd give anything for a pair of comfortable sneakers. But I can't afford to let my discomfort show – not with so much on the line.

As I pass a group of guests, I overhear a snippet of their conversation.

"Luka Ivankov is quite the enigma, don't you think?" a tall, blonde woman in a red silk dress says, her voice laden with intrigue.

Another guest, a petite brunette with pouty fake lips, chimes in, her eyes sparkling with desire. "Oh, absolutely. But there's something so alluring about a man with a mysterious past. And have you seen those icy blue eyes of his? They're positively hypnotic."

A third woman, dressed in a sexy black dress with a neckline that plunges down to her navel, smirks and adds, "Yeah, and don't forget how freaking powerful he is. He walks into a room, and bam! Everyone's just shivering with excitement."

The first woman, her eyes all lit up, leans in and whispers loudly enough to be heard, "Hey, so I heard Luka just got out of jail after four years. Can you imagine how, like, totally desperate he must be for some lovin'? Bet he's a wild beast in the sack."

The second woman giggles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, totally. Can you picture it? All that built-up need, finally getting a chance to let loose on some lucky chick. Damn, I'm getting hot just thinking about it."

The woman in the black dress licks her lips. "Mmm, I'd do anything to be that girl. To have him take charge, be totally at his mercy… It'd be one hell of a ride, for sure."

As the women keep gossiping, sharing all kinds of dirty thoughts and sexy stories, I find myself feeling curious about this Luka guy. He's got everyone so wrapped up in him that I'm almost tempted to find out what the mystery is all about.

"Can you imagine sharing him with a bunch of other girls?" the first woman wonders, fanning herself dramatically. "I mean, if he's as insatiable as they say, I bet he could handle all of us and then some."

The second woman grins. "Oh, honey, I'd be more than down for that. Just think – all of us, all tangled up, with him as the main event. We'd be like a harem, and he'd be our king."

I feel my face heat up, my heart pounding like crazy as their words paint a stream of wild, sexy pictures in my head. I try to shake the thoughts off, but the draw of Luka Ivankov, the dangerous, powerful man who has everyone talking, seems to have somehow grabbed hold of my imagination.

Are you out of your mind, Sophia!?

A shudder runs through me as a chilling thought occurs to me. These women have no idea that if Luka ever finds out what I'm about to do, he'd kill me without a second thought. They're all enamored with the man, dreaming about sharing him, completely unaware of the danger that lurks beneath his captivating exterior. The thought drags my attention to the reason I'm here. Get the microchips into his bedroom.

But how? Where the hell would it be?

I scan the room, trying to focus on what I came here to do. I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of hallways leading out of this vast ballroom. Each one could lead practically anywhere.

I continue to weave through the crowded party, balancing the tray of champagne glasses precariously on one hand as I try to figure out which direction to go in. This place is huge, and I half wonder if Luka's got a room for every damn hobby he has. Is there a room just for his collection of rare stamps or something?

Shit, how many damn floors are there in this place?

Throwing caution to the winds, I head toward a pair of ornately carved doors at the far end of the room.

"Tiring work, huh? Care for a drink?" I wink at the hulking bodyguard in front of it. I know he'll never say yes, but I'm running out of options. I silently curse Aleks for landing me in this mess.

Seriously! How the hell am I supposed to find the right room in this place without getting caught?

Not surprisingly, the bodyguard ignores me, his attention focused on the door he's guarding. I glance at the door and purse my mouth in frustration.

What's behind that one? Mr. Ivankov's secret stash of vintage comic books?

As I distribute the last of the champagne glasses, I nearly faceplant, thanks to my stupid heels, tripping over nothing but air.

Smooth, Sophia, real smooth.

"Damn shoes," I mutter under my breath, trying to look as casual as possible.

With my tray finally empty, I set it down and muster up the courage to sneak away from the activity and head down one of the hallways. The server's uniform turns out to be a blessing in disguise. No one bats an eye as I pass more bodyguards standing sentinel outside various doors. As I go, I make up ridiculous scenarios in my head for what could be hidden behind each one. It's a stupid game, but right now, I need something to distract me from completely freaking out.

By door number five, I'm getting good at it. "Oh, that must be the room where Luka keeps his collection of exotic stuffed animals," I tell myself, stifling a giggle as I stride past yet another imposing door.

I've been discreetly exploring the hallways and peeking into rooms, but so far, I've been unable to determine which rooms belong to Luka. Time is running out, and my frustration grows with each passing moment. I need to plant these microchips, but how am I supposed to figure out which rooms are the right ones?

In the back of my mind, the image of my brother's battered face spurs me on. I have to do this for him. Failure is not an option.

As I sneak down another hallway, I suddenly hear footsteps approaching. My heart leaps into my throat. I quickly duck into a nearby room, holding my breath and praying that it's just another server or guest. The footsteps grow louder, and then I hear the stern voice of the catering manager.

"Has anyone seen the new girl? She's been gone for far too long."

I flatten myself against the wall, my heart thundering. If she catches me, it's all over. The seconds drag on like hours as I wait, barely daring to breathe. Finally, the footsteps recede, and I exhale in relief. That was too close for comfort.

Just as I start to slip out of the room, her voice pierces the air, freezing me in my tracks.

"There you are! What on earth do you think you're doing?" she demands, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Fuck my life.

My heart lurches, and I quickly concoct a feeble excuse. "I, um, I got lost trying to find the bathroom."

She scowls, clearly unimpressed, but doesn't press the issue. Instead, she hands me a tray laden with whiskey glasses. "Take this to the main hall. And try not to get lost again."

As I accept the tray, I seethe inwardly. This turd of a woman! So high and mighty, acting like some snooty queen. But I swallow my irritation, my focus on the pain in my feet, as I try not to drop the tray. Balancing it carefully, I make my way back to the main hall, inwardly cursing that I'm back to square one.

Shit, shit, shit!

And then it happens. I've just stepped through the doorway when I glance up and lock eyes with the most stunning man I've ever seen.

Pure power. That and danger.

There's no other way to describe it. I stop dead in my tracks, my mouth hanging open as I take in the sight of him. He's impossibly tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair brushed back from his striking face. His chiseled jawline and full, sensuous lips give him an almost predatory appearance. But it's his eyes that hold me captive, a fathomless ice blue that seems to suck at my soul.

My breath catches in my throat as I realize he's staring directly at me. His gaze is unrelenting, making my heart race and my skin flush with heat. It's as if his eyes are a tangible force, drawing me in and wrapping around me like a sensual caress.

For fuck's sake Sophia, what are you thinking?

I can't let myself be swayed by this magnetic stranger. I tear my gaze away and approach him, offering a glass of whiskey from the tray. He takes one, his strong fingers brushing against mine as he does so. The brief contact sends a delicious ripple up my spine, my body responding to his touch with a hunger I've never known.

As I turn to walk away, I feel his iron grip on my wrist, yanking me back toward him. The possessive gesture catches me off guard, and I feel a spark of anger flicker within me.

What the hell?

Who does he think he is, treating me like some plaything to be toyed with? When he coolly reaches for another glass without breaking eye contact, I know he's messing with me, and I want to smack that smug look off his face.

Except the combination of my indignation and the too-small heels I'm wearing throws off my balance, and I stumble forward. As I flail to regain my footing, I accidentally tip the tray I'm holding, sending the remaining glasses of whiskey crashing down onto the man's impeccably tailored suit.

Oh. My. Fuck!

For a moment, we both freeze, staring at each other in shock. My mind races, searching for a witty retort or a clever escape plan, but all I can think is, Great job, genius.

Let's just hope he doesn't have a fondness for impromptu whiskey showers.

His astonishing blue eyes flick from the whiskey-soaked mess to my face, and I brace myself for his fury. But instead, he just laughs – laughs in a way that makes my toes curl, and my core muscles clench. Laughs in a way that has my nipples poking against the lightweight cotton of my dress. It's a deep, rich sound that totally unnerves me and adds an unexpected twist to the situation.

My cheeks flame with embarrassment and anger, the injustice of the situation washing over me. I have a mission to complete, and now, thanks to this infuriating man, I'm stuck in the center of a humiliating spectacle.

And on top of it all, I'm horny.