Alessia
I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing my dress down as unease clung to me like a second skin. Marco had told me earlier today that we had an event to attend, an underground, exclusive event. And I had no choice but to go. If this would get me closer to Dante's world, to the answers I needed, then I'd endure it.
Marco had been in a strangely good mood as he picked out my dress, a sleek, deep-red satin piece that clung to my curves in a way that made it hard to breathe. He wanted me to look sweet, to play the role of his fiancée effortlessly.
"You'll enjoy yourself," he had said before we left Inferno. "And if you don't, at least pretend you do."
I hadn't responded.
Now, as I walked beside him into the dimly lit venue, my heart pounded hard in my chest. The place reeked of power, old money, and something far more illicit. Smoke curled in the air from expensive cigars, the low hum of conversation buzzing despite the dark music that played overhead. People in designer suits and extravagant gowns moved through the room, exchanging secrets and glances like currency.
I kept my expression neutral, my chin lifted as Marco guided me through the crowd. His hand rested lightly on my lower back, a possessive gesture, a warning to anyone who might be watching.
"Stay close," he murmured in my ear. "There are people here who'd love to get their hands on something that belongs to me."
I fought the urge to answer. I didn't belong to him. But I nodded, playing along as I always did. Marco led me toward a group of men in dark suits, his demeanor shifting into something colder, sharper. I recognized some of them, some of them used to be my father's friend, men with blood on their hands.
I barely listened to their conversation, focusing instead on the people in the room, scanning for anything useful.
Then, I noticed a presence. My pulse stuttered as my eyes landed on him. Dante Moretti. He stood near the bar side, dressed in an all-black suit, his stance casual yet commanding. But it wasn't his presence that made my stomach drop, it was his eyes. They were on me, unmoving.
I swallowed hard, keeping my expression steady. But I knew. He was here for a reason. And I had the sinking feeling that reason had everything to do with me. Marco hadn't noticed him yet, too busy in conversation. But I felt Dante's gaze burning into my skin, reading me, dissecting me. I turned my attention back to Marco, willing myself to breathe.
Stay focused. Stay calm.
But that proved impossible when, minutes later, Marco excused himself to handle something, leaving me momentarily alone. I felt a shift in the air before I even turned. Then, a voice, low and rough.
"Leona Veraga."
I stiffened. That was the last name I told Marco. Slowly, I turned, already knowing who I'd find. Dante stood in front of me now, too close, his eyes dark and unreadable. The way he said that name, it wasn't a question. It was a test.
And I knew if I failed it, I'd never recover. So, I did what I had to. I let my expression relax into something neutral, something confident. Then I let out a small chuckle, tilting my head slightly.
"Leona Rivera," I corrected, keeping my voice smooth.
For a second, just a second, I thought I saw something change in his gaze. A crack in that hardened exterior. Then it was gone. Dante's jaw tightened. He took a slow step closer. My back hit the cool surface of the bathroom sink.
I hadn't even realized he'd backed me into the bathroom until now, until the door clicked shut behind him. My breath caught, but I didn't let it show.
"You sure about that?" he murmured.
I held his stare. "Positive."
Silence stretched between us, filled with tension. Dante studied me, his sharp gaze scanning my face, looking for something, I gave him nothing. Because I knew the second I did, it was over. I will be dead by tomorrow.
Finally, he let out a slow exhale, his head tilting slightly.
"You lie well," he muttered.
I arched my brow. "I don't lie at all."
A humorless chuckle left his lips. Then, before I could react, he reached out, his fingers skimming along the delicate chain around my neck. I froze as he lifted the pendant slightly, his thumb brushing against it. My heart pounded so hard I thought he might hear it. Dante studied the necklace for a second before his gaze moved back to mine.
"Nice piece," he said, voice deceptively soft.
I swallowed, my mouth dry. "Thanks."
He didn't move away.
"Who gave it to you?"
"My mother," I lied smoothly.
Dante's eyes didn't waver. "Your mother?"
"Yeah. A long time ago."
Silence. Then he let go, stepping back just enough to give me room to breathe again. But then, his expression had changed. Something in his eyes had shifted. Like he wasn't done with me yet.
I exhaled slowly, forcing a smirk onto my lips. "Is this what you do? Corner women in bathrooms?"
His lips twitched slightly. "Only the ones who lie to me."
I lifted a brow. "Then I guess you're in the wrong place."
Dante didn't answer immediately. Instead, he lingered for a second longer, his eyes never leaving mine. Then, finally, he took a step back, reaching for the door handle. But just before he left, he glanced at me one last time.
"You still haven't answered me."
I frowned. "Answered what?"
His head tilted slightly. "My offer. Have you thought about it?"
My pulse spiked. I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. "I thought we were past this conversation."
Dante smirked, but it was a dangerous, knowing smirk. "I never forget unfinished business."
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Then let me make it crystal clear, I'm not interested."
He studied me, his silence stretching. Then, with a small chuckle, he shook his head.
"If that's what you say."
The way he said it, like he didn't believe me at all, made my blood boil. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, heart pounding. I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself.