4. His Temptation!

Louis's POV

The mansion had been terrifyingly quiet, unnaturally silent, the kind of silence that meant only one thing, something was very, very wrong.

It felt as if the entire house had already committed a sin and was now too scared to face me for it.

I walked through the vast halls, then the endless hallways, each step echoing like a countdown. Everyone I passed froze in place, servants, cleaners, even security patrolling inside against the usual rules. No one dared to speak. They only lowered their heads, terrified of becoming collateral damage in whatever war was about to begin.

My hand curled inside my pocket as I thought about the real reason I had been dragged back home to clean up yet another mess caused by the same two idiots I shared blood with. I had left my office, my work, my schedule, my life to fix their chaos. Again.

Guards lined the walls, weapons raised at alert until they saw me and instantly lowered them in respect. Seeing loaded guns inside the mansion confirmed what I’d already suspected, the situation had reached catastrophic level.

I reached the heavy oak door and pushed it open, not politely.

The slam thundered across the room.

Good. Let them know I am pissed.

The faint arguments, accusations and finger-pointing stopped instantly. Silence swallowed the room, full of fear.

My two brothers looked like absolute disasters, bruised, bleeding, suits torn, breathing heavily like they were ready to start round two.

My sister sat in the corner with a blank expression that practically said. 

“Why am I forced to witness this circus again?”

My mother looked exhausted not because her sons were hurt, but because she was already calculating the consequences of their stupidity.

And my father? He looked disappointed. Nothing new.

My jaw tightened the moment my eyes landed on Franklin, the middle brother, the root of most disasters in this family.

He got up and rushed toward me like a desperate politician trying to explain himself before the court delivered a sentence.

“He fucked up fir—”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

My fist collided with his jaw with enough force to echo, and something cracked. Maybe bone, maybe teeth, either way, he shut up.

Dominic, the youngest stepped back instantly, trying to escape my reach like a cornered rabbit. Pathetic.

“Sorry— brother— please—” 

He stammered.

I grabbed the back of his head and slammed it against the polished table where the entire family sat. His screams tore through the room as I pressed harder, until the pain broke him.

“S-sorry— please— I’m sorry—!”

I let go.

Showing mercy to them was stupidity but unfortunately, I couldn’t kill blood. That had been the rule. Breaking it would make me no better than the men my grandfather warned us about. I hated the rule but I lived by it.

“What the fuck were you two thinking?”

My voice was cold, steady the kind of tone that made grown men sweat. I didn’t need to yell.

“You were sent to that event to grow business. To finally do something meaningful with your useless lives. To make yourselves useful.”

I grabbed both of them by their throats, pulling them close.

“And instead? You almost exposed our family secret in front of thousands of people.”

There it was, their real crime.

To the world, we were clean businessmen. Billionaires. Innovators. The faces of progress.

The truth?

We were a mafia empire. A legacy built from blood. A power that sat at the high table and controlled decisions that could shift the fate of a nation.

Only the mafia world knew who we really were and that was exactly how it had to remain.

I could have revealed myself long ago. I had no interest in pretending to be a respectable gentleman or a polished CEO. Fear, not admiration, kept people obedient. I would have walked proudly as mafia lord if tradition didn’t bind me.

But rules passed on by the dead were rules I was forced to keep.

So no one, absolutely no one, was supposed to know our real face.

And these fools almost destroyed everything.

Mom spoke first, voice tired, face buried in her palm.

“I’ve covered the matter for now, but I’m worried. Do something about these two. I’m tired of fixing their mess. They’re both drug addicts and they’re out of control.”

She was right. They were disasters.

Disasters I was unfortunately responsible for.

I turned toward my sister, Nikki who immediately tensed. She never expected me to address her, and she never wanted to be involved.

“Nikki.”

Her head snapped up like I’d placed a knife to her throat.

Fear flooded her face. Her forehead glistened with sweat. She knew what I wanted before I spoke.

“Who started it first?”

She froze. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, turning pale. My stare sharpened and she broke.

“Franklin…” 

She whispered.

I didn’t need volume. I just needed truth.

I announced their punishment, brutal enough to ensure neither of them would dare to open their mouths about our business again and turned to leave.

But my mother stopped me.

“I need you here. You need to see something.”

I paused. She never asked for my time. So it mattered.

I walked toward the window as I wiped Franklin’s blood from my knuckles with a tissue.

And then I saw her.

Lisa!

Sitting in the car like a quiet little bird.

Looking around with curiosity she tried to hide. Leaning slightly forward as if she could hear the whispers behind the mansion walls. Still afraid to step out, good instincts. I didn’t want her anywhere near this world.

I had been doing perfectly fine, functioning as the cold, efficient machine I was raised to be until she barged into my life like autumn leaves thrown into a storm.

I didn’t do distractions. I didn’t allow them. I didn’t tolerate them.

Yet somehow, she had my full attention, without even trying.

The first day she walked into my office, something inside me reacted. Something dark. Something territorial. Something I wasn’t supposed to feel.

The way she challenged me unintentionally. The way she looked at me with innocence instead of fear. The way she didn’t tremble when others did like she wanted to understand me instead of escape me.

Those ash-grey strands of hair, expressive eyes, lips shaped for sin were manageable threats.

But her hips… that ass…

I nearly lost my sanity every time she walked past me.

She gave me blue balls just by breathing in the same room.

And the worst part? She is getting more intoxicating every single day.

There is a fire in her. Ambition. Resilience.

She wants to prove something, maybe to the world, maybe to herself and she doesn't back down even when I push her.

Yes, I make her life hell on purpose. To test her. To break her or expose the strength hiding inside her. Some days I wanted to crush her. Some days I wanted to see her fight me.

If I fired her, she would fight back. I know it.

And I can't afford a scandal. “Cruel billionaire boss tortures employee” was not a headline I needed.

So she have to resign on her own.

Because I can't keep functioning with her around.

I can't keep pretending I am not affected every time she handed me papers, every time she spoke, every time her perfume lingered in the air after she left.

The smallest touch when she handed me that coffee had set every nerve on fire.

When she accidentally brushed against me, her soft body against my hard frame, it felt like a starving predator getting its first taste of prey.

Her lips when she spoke… Her voice when she tried to stay professional even while nervous…

She was born to ruin strong men.

She has the power to strip away the polished mask I wear for the world and I can't allow that.

Not when our worlds are disasters waiting to collide.

She is a free bird, built for sunlight, love, choices, life.

And I am the night, built for war, blood, survival, violence.

My world will rip her apart. My family can destroy her.

She would shatter the moment I touch her with my cursed hands.

There was only one solution.

She needs to leave.

Not because I don't want her but because if she stayed… I would eventually stop resisting.

And once I stopped resisting?

I would take her. In every way. Claim her. Own her.

Ruin her!

And there would be no coming back for her after that.

She wasn’t built for monsters like me.

So she have to walk away.

Sooner or later, she would.

She have to.

Because if she didn’t…

I would drag her into my darkness myself.

And the fire between us would burn her alive.