---
Chapter: Alina's POV
The soft light of dawn crept through the long curtains, painting the edges of the lavish room in a golden hue. Alina's eyes fluttered open slowly, her mind adjusting to her unfamiliar surroundings. For a second, confusion clouded her thoughts. Then it all came rushing back—Marcus, the bar, the seductive smile, the drinks, the velvet couch, and how she'd fallen asleep trying to dodge the one thing she absolutely wasn't ready for.
Her heart drummed as she sat up on the couch. Marcus's oversized pajama shirt hung loosely on her frame, and for a moment, the softness of the fabric offered her a false sense of comfort. She glanced around cautiously. The penthouse apartment was silent, still blanketed in the stillness of early morning. No footsteps, no voices—just the quiet hum of the city far below.
He hadn't tried anything. That surprised her.
But she couldn't count on that again. She needed to leave—now.
Slipping her feet into her heels, she tiptoed toward the kitchen to grab her purse. Her black dress was folded neatly on the edge of the couch where she'd left it. She picked it up carefully, not bothering to change back into it. Her phone was hidden in her purse, and once she had it in hand, she exhaled softly.
Her legs moved on instinct as she tiptoed toward the front door. She paused by the hallway, listening. No sound.
He must still be asleep.
Her fingers hovered over the doorknob, but a sudden pang of anxiety twisted in her stomach. What if he had cameras watching? What if he was pretending to be asleep? What if this was some kind of twisted test?
She shook her head. No. You've come this far, Alina. Just go.
She slowly unlocked the door, holding her breath as she eased it open. The hallway was empty. Clean. She stepped out, closed the door silently behind her, and didn't breathe until the elevator doors closed in front of her.
Only then did her shoulders slump in relief.
The moment her feet hit the street outside Marcus's building, she called Liam.
He picked up almost instantly.
"You're up early," he said, his voice unreadable as always.
"I had to be," she replied, walking quickly to the street corner and hailing a cab. "Mission was successful. He's interested. He wanted me to come home with him last night."
"And?"
"I stalled. I stayed the night but nothing happened. He gave me his pajamas. I think he bought the act."
A short pause. "Good. That's progress."
She nodded even though he couldn't see her. "I got out before he woke up."
Liam's voice was calm, but she sensed the focus in it. "You did well. I'll text you the drop location. We'll meet in thirty."
She hung up, finally exhaling the breath she'd been holding since dawn. She leaned against the cool window of the cab, letting her thoughts spiral.
This job—it was unlike anything she'd done before.
It wasn't just the physical seduction, the calculated act, or the subtle lies she had to weave—it was the fact that this time, it felt real in moments she hadn't expected.
Marcus had been watching her at the club like she was his prize. His silver eyes had pierced through the crowd, and she'd felt the weight of that gaze long after the music faded. He hadn't spoken much last night after they got to his penthouse. Instead, he poured her wine, smirked when she declined another glass, and let her rest on the couch.
She could still remember the look on his face—curious, intrigued, and slightly possessive.
It unnerved her more than she wanted to admit.
He's the assignment, she reminded herself firmly.
Back at Liam's temporary HQ, the setting was all steel and glass. The building was discreet, surrounded by warehouses and forgotten offices. When Alina entered the designated room, Liam was already there, arms crossed, staring out the window.
She didn't wait for a greeting.
"I didn't expect it to be that easy," she said.
He turned slowly, his sharp eyes analyzing her in that unreadable way. "You played the part well."
She shrugged off the oversized pajama shirt and tossed it into a paper bag. "He's smart, but his guard drops when he's interested. It'll be easy to reel him in deeper."
Liam studied her face. "And you're still in control?"
The question cut deeper than it should've. "Of course."
He didn't look convinced. "Good. Keep it that way. We don't need complications."
She nodded, though something in her chest tugged. "What's next?"
"We let him come to you. Make him chase. Make it hard. But not too hard."
"And when he trusts me?"
"Then we strike."
His words were cold, final. Alina nodded again, brushing away the strange feeling twisting inside her chest.
She walked to the mirror in the corner of the room and finally looked at herself.
Her messy bun had unraveled slightly, the curls loose around her face. Her green eyes met her own reflection—sharp, controlled, and yet... tired.
She wiped off the smudged mascara beneath her eyes and whispered to herself, "You're doing this for the mission. Nothing more."
She had to believe that.
Because if she didn't, then this game she was playing could cost her everything.