You sit in the first-class seat of the private jet, checking your bank account with eyes gleaming with wealth. Another successful job. Your fingers brush over the diamond set you received as a gift, its sparkle reflecting in your eyes like another piece of your victory. Along with the jewelry, millions of dollars were being added to your account. Everything was going exactly as planned… Playing the perfect lover to a wealthy man was a job you had mastered for years.

Until they stormed in…

Men in smart black suits surrounded your seat. Before you could even begin to process it, a tall, commanding man appeared among them. He didn't just look like a wealthy, influential man, he looked more dangerous.

Calmly, he sat beside you. His eyes locked onto you with unsettling intensity before he spoke in a deep, composed voice:

"I’ve heard your line of work is… unique."

You raised an eyebrow. Leaning back against the seat.

"And what exactly have you heard?"

He smiled— Smile hinted at something deeper. His gaze swept over your posture before returning to your eyes.

"I need you to play the role of my wife for a week."

You laughed, your voice soft yet laced with calculated mischief.

"And what makes you think I’d agree?"

Resting his chin on his hand, he tilted his head slightly, studying you.

"It seems you don’t understand me, дорогая…" He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, yet his words were absolute. "I’m not asking. You don’t have a choice."

For a second, you didn’t respond. Your eyes flicked to the men around you—their military-like silence, the way they stood, as if a single gesture from him would be enough to make you disappear without a trace. Then, your gaze returned to him.

Slowly, he raised his hand, unbuttoning his coat with practiced ease before speaking:

"Ah, I almost forgot…" The corner of his lips curled into a faint smile before he added, "I should introduce myself first. Fyodor Valenti, leader of the Tambovskaya Russian mafia."