Chapter 6 - The Honey Trap
The intelligence extracted from the prisoner confirmed our worst fears: Lorenzo was hosting a high-stakes underground poker tournament at an exclusive, invite-only casino in the city. The Bratva leaders would be there. It was the perfect opportunity to decapitate the snake, but the security was impenetrable.
“We can’t just shoot our way in,” Marco argued over a blueprint spread across the dining room table. “They have facial recognition, metal detectors, and thirty armed guards.”
“We don't shoot our way in,” Julian said smoothly, leaning over the table. “We walk in through the front door. We need a distraction. Something so stunning it blinds the cameras and the guards long enough for Marco’s team to bypass the servers.”
Julian’s eyes slowly lifted, locking onto me.
“No,” I said immediately, backing away from the table. “Absolutely not.”
“Clara, listen to me—”
“I’m a bartender, Julian! I’m not a spy! I will get us all killed!”
Julian walked around the table, closing the distance between us until I was pinned against the wall. He reached out, his hands resting on my hips, pulling me flush against his chest. My breath hitched.
“You are the most captivating woman I have ever met,” Julian murmured, his lips a breath away from my ear. “When you walk into a room, all the oxygen disappears. Lorenzo has never seen you in person. You will go in on my arm as my date. We will use a fake identity for me. You just have to be beautiful and keep Lorenzo’s eyes on you for exactly five minutes.”
“And if he realizes who you are?” I whispered, trembling from his proximity.
“Then I kill him,” Julian stated simply.
That afternoon, a team of stylists arrived at the estate. When they were finished with me, I didn't recognize the woman in the mirror. I was poured into a blood-red silk gown that hugged every curve, my hair styled into elegant, cascading waves, with a diamond necklace resting against my collarbone.
Julian walked into the dressing room wearing a bespoke black tuxedo. He stopped dead in his tracks. The raw hunger in his eyes made my stomach flutter.
He crossed the room, dismissing the stylists with a flick of his wrist. He stood behind me, looking at our reflection in the mirror. His hands trailed down my bare arms, sending shivers through my core.
“You look like a Queen,” he whispered hoarsely, kissing the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “My Queen.”
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“Don't let me fall tonight, Julian,” I breathed.
He spun me around, pulling me into a kiss that was bruising, desperate, and possessive. “I would burn the world to ash before I let you hit the ground.”
