Page 3 of Dark Seduction

I glare at him, my resolve steeling. “And you’re lucky I don’t report you for this shakedown. Now, give me my keys. I’m done here.”

He smirks again, shaking his head as he carelessly tosses the keys my way.

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath in a low growl.

I'm about to unleash a torrent of anger when a booming voice cuts through the cacophony of the shop, the words sharp and commanding in Russian.

The mechanic stiffens, his previous arrogance evaporating as he turns toward the source of the voice.

A man strides out from the shadows, an imposing figure whose very presence seems to command respect and fear. He's dressed impeccably in a tailored dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos that whisper tales of his roots—vivid, intricate designs possibly symbolic of Russian folklore or military service. His pleated slacks and polished shoes speak of a life that straddles worlds both rough and refined. An expensive watch clings to his wrist, a beacon of his status.

"What is going on here?" His voice booms, thick with a Russian accent, firm and cold as the Siberian winter, echoing through the garage with undeniable authority.

As he steps into the light, his features come into sharp focus—rugged yet strikingly handsome, with a jawline chiseled from stone and eyes that burn with a fierce intelligence. His presence is not only magnetic but also slightly intimidating, embodying the fierce pride and resilience of his heritage.

Holy shit, is he hot.

Chapter 2

Dalia

“Isaid, what is going on here?”

As the man stares down the mechanic, I take a moment to do some staring of my own.

He’s tall, easily six and a half feet, with a physique that screams power and control. His black hair is impeccably styled, and those piercing gray eyes—my God, they flash with a quiet intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

His forearms are ropy and toned. I spot a deep scar on his neck and another on his right arm, hinting at a past that’s anything but ordinary. Everything about him exudes a powerful, dominating presence, like he’s a force of nature contained in perfect human form.

Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t even begin to cover it. His entire aura is magnetic, pulling me in. As much as I try to stay focused on my crappy situation, I can't help but feel a wave of heat spreading through me, pooling low in my belly.

My panties are getting soaked just looking at him. What the hell is wrong with me?

I shake my head slightly, trying to clear the fog of lust clouding my mind, but it's no use. The way he moves, the authority in his voice—everything about him has me completely entranced.

The well-dressed man rapidly tears into the mechanic, speaking Russian.

The mechanic tries to meekly stick up for himself, stammering out some weak excuses, but he's quickly shut down, looking more like a scolded puppy than the arrogant jerk from a few minutes ago.

The other mechanics around the shop stop what they're doing to watch the show. For a brief, wild moment, I wonder if Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous is going to grab a wrench and club the mechanic to death right here. He certainly looks like the kind of man who’s seen his share of violence.

The man barks one more thing at the mechanic in Russian, and the guy practically scampers off like a little boy.

With a casual sweep of his large hand, he moves a stray hair back into place, then switches to English, commanding the other mechanics to get back to work. They snap to it without hesitation.

Then, his eyes lock onto mine. For a split second, I think I might come on the spot, the intensity in his gaze sending shivers through me.

“Miss, would you mind coming to my office so we can further discuss the matter of your car?” he asks, his tone stern yet polite. His English is flawless, his accent slight.

My breath catches in my throat but I manage a nod. “Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

As he leads the way, I can’t help but admire the confidence and control in his stride.

We enter a small, cluttered office. The man’s eyes immediately zero in on a nude pinup on the wall.

"Pigs," he mutters under his breath as he tears it down and tosses it into the trash.

I get the distinct impression that this guy isn’t just the boss of the auto shop, but the boss of many other things, as well. He gestures for me to sit down and I instantly comply.

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