DANGEROUS TEMPTATION

CHAPTER NINE: Duty vs Warning

Zara’s POV

The office smelled faintly of polished wood and old leather, a quiet permanence that made the house feel bigger than it actually was.

I stepped inside, the floorboards creaking beneath my shoes, and froze for a moment at the sheer amount of files stacked neatly on the desk.

My fingers itched to sort them, to understand the layers of my father’s world, the part he never showed me.

“What does my old man even do in here?” I muttered to myself, scanning the screens, papers, and folders. Accounting, contracts, correspondences… and something called “Strategic Acquisition Reports.” He made it look effortless, but I knew from experience that nothing about his empire was easy.

Before I could process further, my phone buzzed. It was the line from the office downstairs.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to sound confident.

“Ms. Rosewood? This is the receptionist. Do you need anything? Anything at all?”

I hesitated. Did I need anything? Technically, yes, but nothing I could ask for without sounding ridiculous. “No… I think I’m okay,” I said, forcing a calm I didn’t feel.

The line went quiet, and I hung up, curling my fingers around my phone.

My eyes wandered back to the screen in front of me. Files, spreadsheets, contracts… none of it inspiring.

I needed a distraction. I needed something normal, something that wasn’t deadlines or numbers or my father’s ghost hovering over my shoulder.

Scrolling aimlessly, I stumbled across a video someone had sent to the office account, a painter at work, brush gliding across a canvas.

The colors were bright, chaotic, alive. For a fleeting moment, I thought about the brushes I hadn’t touched in years, the canvases I’d left to gather dust in a corner of my apartment.

I could start again. I could steal a small piece of time while my father was away, make something for myself.

But the wave of anxiety hit immediately, heavier than I expected. Could I actually focus? Could I balance responsibility and indulgence without breaking something in the process?

My chest tightened, and I pressed my palms to it, willing the nerves to calm.

The phone buzzed again, and this time, I froze. Caller ID: Dad.

“What now?” I muttered under my breath, picking up.

“Zara,” his voice was firm but tinged with concern, the rare softness reserved only for moments like this. “How are you holding up? The office… managing the company while I’m gone?”

“Um… I’m… managing,” I said, feeling ridiculous. Who was I even talking to? My father’s empire wasn’t a game I’d grown up learning. I was guessing, learning by instinct.

“Good,” he replied, and I heard the click of a pen or the shuffle of papers in the background. “It’ll be over soon. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah… I hope so,” I said, unsure if I was talking about the trip or myself.

He paused. “There’s a collaborator you need to meet. Nicholas Vize. We had planned for him to attend a meeting, but plans have changed. He’ll be at Malachi Petrov’s birthday party tonight.”

I froze. “Birthday party?”

“Yes. You’ll be attending in my place. I’ve already spoken to him. He expects my daughter. Make sure you represent us well.”

My stomach dropped. Of course. Just when I thought I could breathe, he tosses me into this social battlefield.

“Why me?” I asked, though my tone was more disbelief than actual question.

“You’re already capable of managing the office. You can handle a party. You can handle a conversation. Nicholas is… reliable, but I trust you’ll do the talking, understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered, already imagining myself navigating a room full of strangers in designer clothes, all watching, all judging.

“And Zara,” he said, voice softening again. “Take care of yourself. That’s all I ask.”

He hung up before I could respond, leaving me staring at the phone in silence. The room suddenly felt smaller, the weight of responsibility pressing on me in a way I hadn’t expected.

I ran a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. I could do this. I had to. My father had entrusted me, even if it was just for a few hours. I wasn’t going to flinch.

But then… the voice in my head, the one I couldn’t quite shake, whispered Silas.

I frowned. He’d warned me about Bernard’s parties before. He’d told me not to go, made it sound like the world itself would collapse if I even stepped foot inside one.

And yet, this wasn’t just a social obligation. This was professional. Duty. Responsibility. My father’s trust. And Nicholas Vize was someone my father had deemed essential to the company’s operations.

If I didn’t go, it wouldn’t just be a party I was missing, it would be a serious lapse in judgment.

I glanced at the files again, trying to focus. Nicholas Vize… collaborator… Malachi Petrov’s birthday party. The pieces were forming, shaping a plan I didn’t particularly want to follow but had no choice but to.

“Okay,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. “You can do this. You have to.”

I pulled my laptop closer and began reviewing the notes my father had left, familiarizing myself with the talking points and key objectives.

Even amidst the anxiety, the logical part of my brain kicked in.

If I presented myself well, represented my father’s company correctly, and made the right impression, the night could be manageable.

The receptionist buzzed again, and I ignored it this time, focusing on what mattered.

My fingers tapped across the keyboard, scanning emails, contracts, and reports.

I could almost feel my father’s presence, the invisible approval behind each document I opened.

And then the thought struck me: Silas. Why was he still on my mind? He wasn’t here. He didn’t even know about this party. And yet, his warning, his intensity, the way he’d insisted I shouldn't go, it lingered.

I shook my head, trying to push it down. Duty came first. Professionalism came first. Silas’s concern, while valid, couldn’t outweigh what needed to be done tonight.

I stood and walked to the window, staring down at the city below.

Lights flickered, cars moved, life went on without me having to make a decision I didn’t want. But I had to. The weight of the office, the expectation, the trust, it was all mine for the taking.

I looked down at my phone one last time, thinking of Silas, the words he’d sent, the way he had left. My chest tightened, but I forced it down.

I would go. I would represent my father, meet Nicholas Vize, navigate the chaos of Malachi Petrov’s all-white party, and come out unscathed.

Because I had to.

And because if I didn’t, no one else would.

I sat back at the desk, pulling the chair closer, letting the nervous energy channel into preparation.

Notes, files, talking points, I memorized everything I could. I imagined myself standing there, confident, poised, in front of Nicholas and the crowd.

I would do it.

Silas might not approve. Silas might think it was dangerous. But this wasn’t about him. Not tonight.

This was about stepping into the world my father had built. And if that meant confronting my fears, my doubts, and my anxiety… then I would.

I straightened my shoulders and exhaled, letting the tension ease slightly.

Tonight, I’d be at Malachi Petrov’s party. Tonight, I’d represent my father. And yes… tonight, I would survive whatever chaos awaited.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew one thing for certain. Silas’s warning would not leave me. Not tonight. And that made the thought of walking into the party both thrilling and terrifying.