chapter 7 : bound by temptation

Achilles's POV:

Normally, the only time my blood boils is during fights or life-and-death situations. But tonight, for the first time, it burned for a girl. I came here to ensure the underworld would stay intact if Lucius ever stepped down from his throne. Yet in this moment, none of that mattered. The only thing I cared about was finding a way to cool the fire raging inside me.

After the race, I couldn't stop thinking about her. She was chaos wrapped in calm. On the surface, she seemed peaceful, untouched by my trouble—which only made me suspicious. But during the race, my instincts were confirmed. She carried a lethal energy beneath that quiet exterior.

And then there was her connection to Akira, the Yakuza. The face she showed to what appeared to be her cousin revealed a darker side of her. That was the moment I knew I needed answers. I ordered my men to dig into her life, to get me everything from the day she took her first breath until now.

But what did I find? Nothing. Her file was spotless—too neat, too perfectly organized. It didn't take a genius to know it was fake. The only thing I could confirm was that after her parents died when she was six, her aunt took her out of the city, and she only returned this year. She was hiding herself, that much was obvious. But now, I was certain.

The next day, I skipped school. Work called. My family had some business with the Kings and the Smirnovs—a deal that was set to go down tonight in an intriguing little bar.

When Lucas, Lion, and I arrived, the usual happened: girls swarmed us. But as always, I had no interest in anyone of the opposite gender—except her.

Not long after we settled in, the bar announced a "special dancer." I didn't care. My focus was on the deal that would be made in a private room soon. For now, we sat in a dark corner of the bar, waiting for the Smirnovs to arrive.

A slow, sultry song began to play, drawing everyone's attention to the dancer on stage. The atmosphere in the bar shifted as she moved with effortless allure. I couldn't help but notice Lucas, my baby brother, fixating on her like the rest of the crowd. Typical man with needs—hilarious.

Before I could tease him, Lion leaned in close and whispered, "Leo Alexiou just entered..." His voice was low, cautious. But before he could finish, Lucas approached me, his eyes still on the dancer.

"I guess she's not just a racer; she's also a dancer," he muttered, his tone dripping with curiosity.

I turned my head, almost hoping I'd misheard, praying he was wrong. But then my gaze landed on her. The woman commanding the stage had the most captivating, confident eyes I'd ever seen. They seemed to burn right through me, sparking an unfamiliar heat in my chest. I couldn't focus on what she was doing—only on her.

My breath hitched as she glanced to the side, her movements deliberate and seductive. She twirled around the pole, flashing a wicked smile I caught from the corner of my eye. I clenched my jaw. For fuck's sake, what is he doing here? Leo Alexiou sat in the shadows, his gaze devouring her like he was undressing her with his mind. The bastard.

Yet I couldn't look away. Every step she took, every curve of her lips, every twist of her body—it all had me under her spell. Her dress clung to her in all the right ways, teasing and tormenting me. And that heat in my veins—it burned hotter.

One night, she's a high school student and a racer. Now, she's a dancer who's completely unraveling me. In every version of herself, she's wrecking my sanity. All I want right now is for her to be close to me, and damn it, I don't care what it costs.

Not long after, she flashed one final glance—a smile so seductive it felt like my entire body, mind, and veins were about to combust. Then she disappeared backstage, leaving a burning imprint on my soul.

Leo Alexiou stood abruptly, striding toward the man stationed by the door leading to the back. "The Smirnovs will be here any moment. Close the deal with them—I have something to handle," I instructed Lion and Lucas before following that bastard, keeping my phone out and pretending to be occupied while listening to his conversation.

"Look, I want all the lap dances tonight reserved for me. Name your price. Whatever it is, I'll pay it. Just make sure no one disturbs us," Leo said to the man, his tone oozing arrogance.

Dark thoughts swirled in my mind, the demons whispering tempting suggestions on how to make Leo vanish for eternity. I couldn't help but smile at the idea.

"You can buy the dances, but touching her is off-limits. That's the rule here—the King's rule," the man replied curtly.

At the mention of "the King," Leo froze for a moment before muttering curses under his breath. I glanced down and smirked—he was obviously hard. Pathetic. He's as cowardly as his father.

"Fine," he said reluctantly. "Only lap dances. No touching."

Once he slinked off to get himself a drink while waiting for the dancer, I stepped up to the man by the door. Locking eyes with him, I spoke calmly but firmly. "I'll triple whatever he offered. Every dance she does tonight will be for me."

The man raised an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Any other orders, sir? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

I tilted my head slightly and replied evenly, "No, just that. And for your information—Achilles Garcia."

His expression shifted instantly. The blood drained from his face, and his posture stiffened like he was staring at a ghost. "O... of course, sir. As you said. Room 08. You'll find her there," he stammered, clearly terrified.

I stared at him coldly, taking in his pale, trembling form. He looked like he might pass out or wet himself. Guess my reputation precedes me.

He opened the back door for me, and I stepped inside. I didn't buy the dances for my own pleasure—I bought them to talk to her, to protect her. She didn't seem to realize what kind of venomous snake Leo Alexiou was.

Honestly, I didn't know why I felt the need to protect her. There was something about her, something that stirred a challenge deep within me. I was always the one with all the answers, always in control. But this time? I knew nothing.

And for the first time, I was ready to dive into the unknown—to unravel the mystery. To unravel her.

I walked down the hallway until I reached Room 08, where two guards stood stationed at the door. They must have already been informed about me, as they stepped aside without a word, letting me in.

At first glance, the room was simple yet intimate—a table stocked with alcohol, a plush sofa, and a pole positioned front and center. The air felt heavy, charged, and a wave of heat coursed through me.

Then she entered. Draped in a black robe, she moved with a grace that caught my attention immediately. The most intriguing part? Her footsteps were silent—an assassin's skill, whether intentional or not. It was something she'd need to refine.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and I moved to the sofa, sitting back with my legs apart, exuding calm control. She glanced at me, her gaze trailing up and down before she finally spoke.

"I was expecting someone. Where is my guest?"

My jaw tightened at her words. She wanted him here. Not a chance.

"Your guest tonight is me and only me," I said, my voice firm. "I'm not here for games—I need a word with you."

She smiled, a wicked curve of her lips, before turning her back to me. In one fluid motion, her robe slipped off her shoulders and fell to the floor.

"But I'm not here to talk, darling," she purred.

Is she trying to kill me?

She wore a tight, barely-there mini dress that left her entire back exposed. It practically covered nothing. For fuck's sake, I only wanted to talk.

As music started to play, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to ground myself. But then she began to move—dancing just for me. Every slow, deliberate motion was intoxicating. All I wanted was to reach out and touch her, but I held myself back.

Her movements were pure temptation, her hips and belly swaying in rhythm as she leaned against the pole, her body undulating with a seductive grace that made my pulse pound. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The distance between us was torture, but the thought of her closer? That was a whole new kind of hell.

And then she did it. She walked toward me, deliberate and confident, took a whiskey bottle from the table, and poured a small amount into a glass. Her eyes met mine as she brought the cup to her lips for a slow sip before handing it to me, her gaze smoldering.

Despite the chaos in my head, I kept my poker face firmly in place, showing her nothing but cold indifference. She smiled again, unbothered, before downing the rest of her drink and setting the empty glass on the table.

Then she approached me. Slowly. Deliberately. She leaned in close, and I locked my eyes on her face because if my gaze so much as flickered lower, I'd be staring at her bare chest. My breath hitched—I couldn't breathe normally anymore. For fuck's sake.

With a teasing boldness, she brushed my elbows off my knees and pushed me back gently. I didn't resist. I let her do whatever she wanted, because the moment I looked into her eyes, I was trapped. Everything else faded. Those eyes—they were something I craved, something I never wanted to look away from.

Her expression shifted slightly, her brows furrowing as if she were contemplating something. Then her hands began to trail down my thighs, igniting a slow, unbearable torment. She swayed her hips with a rhythm that burned into my soul, her hair falling around her like a curtain of temptation.

Leaning in, her face came so close to mine it was maddening. I couldn't take it anymore. In one swift motion, I pulled her onto my lap, gripping her firmly.

Enough playing.