Alessia
I was already gathering my things, ready to leave Marco's house when I heard footsteps behind me.
"Are you leaving already?" His voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of something unreadable.
I turned to face him, keeping my expression neutral.
"Yeah, I have things to do."
Marco nodded slowly, as if weighing his response. "I'll call Salvatore to drive you."
I forced a smile. "That won't be necessary. I can get home by myself."
His lips quivered into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It wasn't a request, Leona."
Something about the way he said that made my guard go up. I didn't want him to know where I lived. It was already risky enough that I was here in his home, playing this dangerous game. If Marco Montenegro became too interested in me, it could complicate everything.
Still, I couldn't push too hard. "I appreciate the offer, but really, I can—"
"I insist." His voice left no room for argument.
I exhaled through my nose, acting as if I was giving in when, in reality, I was making calculations. "Fine."
He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "Salvatore, take Leona home." He glanced at me then, dark eyes watchful. "Where to?"
I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before answering, "Inferno."
A sign of something crossed his face, interest, maybe suspicion, but he only nodded and relayed the destination.
Minutes later, I slid into the black SUV with Salvatore at the wheel, my mind running through every interaction I'd had with Marco so far. He was so good at playing mind games with his sister.
.
Inferno was alive with music and chatter when I pushed the heavy doors open. But before I could take another step inside, a loud scream shot through the air.
"Elena?"
Elena came running toward me, her heels clicking against the polished floors. She crashed into me, arms wrapping around my waist as she buried her face in my shoulder.
"Where the hell have you been, Leona?!" she half-shouted, half-sniffled, pulling back to look at me. Her face was flushed with worry. "I called you, but your number wasn't going through. I thought something happened to you!"
I softened my tone. "It's a long story, how are you?"
Elena placed her hands on her hips. "I'm fine! start talking."
I sighed, leading her toward one of the VIP booths where we could talk in private. I spilled everything, the dinner, the meeting with Marco and his siblings, his insistence on driving me home. I left out the parts about my real suspicions, the little things I was picking up on, and the subtle way Marco was starting to pick interest in me.
Elena's eyes kept getting wider with every word. Then she let out a sharp, dramatic gasp.
"Don't tell me you actually went to Marco's house? Marco Montenegro? No way, no freaking way!"
I blinked at her reaction. "What's the big deal?"
"The big deal," she emphasized, gesturing wildly, "is that Marco doesn't just invite women to his house. He never looks at them. They throw themselves at him, and he avoids them like the plague."
That took me by surprise. "He seemed... childish, honestly."
Elena's jaw dropped. "Okay, you must have been drunk or something, because Marco Montenegro? Childish? Not in this lifetime. That man is cold, Leona. Dangerous. If he was acting otherwise, he must have a damn good reason."
I absorbed that information, but it didn't change my goal. Marco's personality, his intentions, none of it mattered. I was here for one reason only: to destroy Dante Moretti.
Before I could respond, a uniformed security guard approached, his expression unreadable.
"Miss Leona, you have a visitor."
Elena and I exchanged glances.
"A visitor?" I repeated, my brows pulling together. "Who?"
The guard shrugged. "They didn't say. But they're outside."
A bad feeling crept up my spine. I'd been careful, who the hell would be here to see me? I straightened my posture, masking my unease. "I'll check."
Elena touched my arm. "You want me to come with you?"
I shook my head. "I got this."
The moment I stepped outside, my stomach twisted. Parked in front of Inferno, sleek and menacing, was the same Rolls-Royce I had seen before. My jaw clenched. Dante.
I turned on my heel and stalked back inside, fully intending to pretend I hadn't seen him. But before I could make it past the door, a hand clamped around my wrist.
I tensed immediately. Every self-defense instinct I had screamed at me to react, to flip this man over my shoulder and send his teeth flying. But I forced myself to stay still. To act weak.
I slowly turned my head, meeting the gaze of the man holding me. He wasn't Dante, but he exuded the same kind of authority.
He was tall, lean, with sharp features and an aura that practically radiated danger. His grip was firm but not bruising, a silent warning rather than a threat.
"Let go," I said coolly.
He studied me for a moment before releasing my wrist.
"Boss wants to see you."
I raised a brow. "Boss?"
The man tilted his head toward the car. Dante.
I folded my arms. "Not interested."
The man smirked, as if he'd expected that answer. "It's not really a request."
I let out a humorless laugh. "Well, I'm really not in the mood."
Before he could respond, the back door of the Rolls-Royce opened. And there he was. Dante Moretti.
I hadn't seen him this close since that night. His dark eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable. Even in the dim light, I could see the sign of something dangerous behind them.
I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see an ounce of weakness.
"Leona," he said smoothly, his voice a low hum of amusement.
For the briefest second, my heart stopped. But then I smiled. A slow, practiced, deliberately unimpressed smile.
"How may I help you sir?" I said, my voice steady.
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Are you okay? I heard there was a shoot out here last night"
I felt Elena's presence behind me, hovering just inside the doorway, probably debating whether to intervene. I turned my attention back to Dante, pushing down the adrenaline coursing through me.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking" I lied, I couldn't contain the way disgust crawled up my spine at the sight of him.
His eyes darkened. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something close to fear. But fear had no place here.
Not when I was so close to getting what I wanted. Not when I had come this far. Dante Moretti wasn't my nightmare anymore. I was his.