Journalist Delera never imagined that infiltrating a glamorous charity gala would plunge her into the deadly world of Ivan, the infamous don of the Russian mafia. Disguised as a dancer, she steps right into a trap, thrusting her into a perilous game...
The music had long faded, leaving Delera alone with her racing heartbeat. The night had been a whirlwind of bright lights and thumping beats, and now, in the dimly lit changing room, she was grappling with a mix of exhaustion and anxiety. Evan's unexpected presence had thrown her off balance. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of confusion and dread. Why was he here? His aura was cold, commanding, and unsettlingly intense. Nothing about him resembled the man she once knew.
Delera's face had been partially veiled during her performance, a necessary precaution to ensure her identity remained hidden. She was here for a purpose—to uncover the dealings of corrupt businessmen, not to become entangled in any dangerous underworld.
As she wrestled with her costume, trying to regain her composure, their director burst in, enthusiasm barely contained. "Ladies, we've got a special request tonight," he said, rubbing his hands together. "There's a soirée, and they need dancers. The boss"—he leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially—"said he liked your performance. If you're up for it, the pay will be substantial."
Delera's heart skipped a beat. This was her chance to gather the vital information she needed. The plan had always been to use her dancing as a cover to infiltrate the world of shady deals, nothing more. But Evan's presence made everything more complicated. She hadn't expected him to recognize her, yet there he was, his presence overshadowing everything else.
Despite her apprehension, Delera agreed to the director's offer. The prospect of a significant payout was too enticing to ignore, especially with her mission at stake. As she prepared for another round of dancing, her hips ached from the earlier performance, each step feeling heavier than the last. The weight of Evan's gaze pressed down on her, making her movements feel mechanical.
As the night wore on, the tension in the room was palpable. Evan reappeared, his imposing figure cutting through the crowd. His eyes found hers instantly, and the intensity of his stare was almost tangible. Delera forced herself to keep dancing, her heart racing not just from the exertion but from the looming sense of dread.
Finally, when the music ceased and the room fell into a hushed murmur, Evan approached her with a deliberate, unhurried stride. His eyes were cold, almost predatory, as they roamed over her.
"Come here," he commanded, his voice smooth but carrying an unmistakable edge. Delera hesitated, her nerves frayed, but she moved toward him reluctantly.
Evan's gaze was unrelenting as he studied her, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "How much for a night?" His words were blunt, laced with a chilling disregard.
Delera's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation. "I'm a dancer, not a... not a prostitute," she shot back, her voice trembling with a mix of indignation and fear. The audacity of his question, the way he so easily demeaned her, felt like a direct assault on her dignity.
Evan's eyes narrowed, his smirk widening slightly as he took in her reaction. "Really? Because it looks like you're in need of a more... accommodating profession," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.
The sting of his words left her reeling. She couldn't stand there any longer. With a final, defiant glance, she turned and fled, her heart pounding as she hurried away from the oppressive weight of his gaze. She had hoped to stay hidden, to blend into the background, but now she felt more exposed than ever.
Back in his car, Evan was restless. He dialed his assistant, Ravi, his voice low and impatient. "Find out about the girl from tonight—the one who turned me down. I want to know where she's going."
Moments later, Ravi's voice crackled over the line. "She's at the airport, heading to Sardinia."
A sudden, almost irrational urgency surged within Evan. He instructed his chauffeur to follow her immediately. The need to pursue this woman with the striking green eyes was inexplicable, but he couldn't ignore the gnawing compulsion to keep track of her movements.
At the airport, Evan scanned the crowd with a steely determination. His eyes locked onto Delera as she prepared to check in. He approached her, his presence looming behind her. When she felt his gaze on her back, she turned slowly, her eyes widening in shock as she met his intense, scrutinizing stare.
Evan's smirk widened into a full, menacing grin. He stepped closer, his gaze penetrating. "Hello, my gazelle," he said, his voice a dark blend of mockery and intrigue.
The nickname, laced with a chilling familiarity, sent a shiver down Delera's spine. She was caught between the shock of his appearance and the fear of his intentions. As he stood there, a formidable figure of authority and menace, Delera's mind raced with the uncertainty of what awaited her next.
Hey everyone! 🌟 I hope you enjoyed diving back into Delera's world as much as I did. Things are getting intense, right? What do you think is going to happen next? 👀 If you're as curious as I am, don't forget to vote and leave a comment below! Your support means everything and keeps the story going. Can't wait to hear your thoughts! 💬
Catch you in the next part! 💖
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