The Grand Cielo shimmered like a jewel in the heart of the city, its opulence evident from the gold-encrusted doors to the marble floors that echoed with the sound of wealth. It was a place where power was flaunted, where secrets were whispered in dimly lit corners, and tonight, it would be the stage for the most critical negotiation of Dante’s career.

Dante Bianchi stepped out of his sleek black car, his sharp suit tailored perfectly to his muscular frame. The cool evening breeze ruffled his dark hair as his eyes scanned the exterior of the building. His instincts, honed from years of living in the shadows, felt the weight of anticipation thickening in the air. The Russians were always unpredictable, and the stakes of tonight’s meeting were higher than usual. One wrong move could cost him his empire.

But as always, he wasn’t going into this alone.

Alessia Volkov stepped out behind him, her black heels clicking softly on the pavement, her raven hair swept back into an elegant knot. She was a vision of control and precision, her posture as flawless as her icy demeanor. Her presence alone was enough to command attention, and Dante felt the eyes of the bystanders linger on her as they made their way to the entrance. She walked beside him, her steps perfectly in sync, yet never too close. Always a measured distance, like a shadow that followed but never touched.

Inside, the Grand Cielo’s grandeur enveloped them. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the luxurious space. The air was filled with murmurs of conversations, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the subtle hum of a piano playing in the background. Dante's mind, however, was already focused on the task at hand. He had no room for distractions.

Or so he thought.

Alessia's presence beside him was like a constant hum beneath his skin, a reminder of the enigma she remained. He had trusted her with his life more times than he could count, yet the mystery of her past still lingered like an unsolved riddle. Tonight, that same curiosity gnawed at him as they moved through the gilded hallways. His eyes flickered to her, the glint of a crystal chandelier catching her cheekbones, highlighting her flawless features. She was stunning, but it wasn’t just her beauty that captivated him. It was her silence, her coldness, the way she remained so unattainable.

She’s perfect for this world, Dante thought, admiring how effortlessly she blended into a place like this. No one would ever suspect the lethal woman beneath the pristine exterior. But Dante knew. He’d seen it firsthand.

As they neared the private dining room where the meeting was set to take place, Alessia’s mind was already working through the contingencies. The Russians were volatile, and though Dante’s reputation commanded respect, the slightest misstep could unravel everything. Her sharp eyes took in every detail—the positions of the security, the layout of the exits, the faces in the crowd. She didn’t need to speak to know what was expected of her.

She had been in countless situations like this before, but with Dante, everything was heightened. The stakes were always higher, the danger more palpable. Yet, there was something else—something about him that unsettled her. As much as she tried to keep her distance, to remain the detached, emotionless professional, Dante had a way of breaking through the cracks in her armor. His presence was magnetic, his confidence intoxicating, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

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Focus, she reminded herself, her eyes narrowing as they approached the door. This was not the time to let her guard down.

“Stay close,” Dante murmured, his voice low and commanding as they reached the entrance of the private room. His hand brushed her back for the briefest of moments as he pushed the door open, a gesture that sent a ripple of heat through her. She hated that he could do that to her with just a touch, but she masked it as she always did.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately. Four men sat around an elaborate table, their expressions cold, calculating. The Russian delegation. At the head of the table sat Sergei Mikhailov, the most dangerous of them all. His bald head gleamed under the soft lighting, and his eyes, like shards of ice, locked onto Dante the moment he entered.

Sergei’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, Dante Bianchi, the man who holds the city in his palm.”

Dante stepped forward, his demeanor unflinching. “Sergei. I hope the journey wasn’t too taxing.”

Sergei chuckled, a deep, guttural sound. “When business calls, we answer. You know how it is.”

Alessia stood just behind Dante, her eyes scanning the room. The Russians were good, but not flawless. Their security team was in place, but there were small details they had missed. Subtle vulnerabilities she would exploit if the need arose. Her mind catalogued every possible exit, every potential weapon, but outwardly, she was the picture of calm.

As Dante took his seat across from Sergei, the tension in the room thickened. The two men stared each other down, the weight of their empires resting on every word that would be spoken.

But Dante wasn’t worried. Not yet.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with calculated confidence. “Let’s get straight to the point, Sergei. We both know why we’re here. The shipment—half now, half upon delivery.”

Sergei raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “A man after my own heart. No time for pleasantries, eh?”

“Pleasantries waste time,” Dante replied smoothly, his gaze unwavering. “I assume the terms are agreeable?”

Sergei’s gaze flickered to Alessia for the briefest of moments. “Always straight to business, but you do keep impressive company.” His eyes lingered on her for a second too long, and Dante felt a surge of possessiveness he hadn’t expected.

Alessia remained still, her expression neutral, but she felt the shift in Dante’s demeanor. She could sense his tension, the subtle way his posture changed.

Sergei’s smirk deepened, enjoying the reaction. “I’ve heard stories about you, Miss Volkov,” he said, his voice oozing with false charm. “A woman with such... capabilities. Very rare in this line of work.”

Alessia didn’t flinch. “I’m here to make sure everything runs smoothly. That’s all you need to know.”

Dante’s jaw tightened, though he kept his face carefully composed. He didn’t like how Sergei was looking at her. Not one bit. And it wasn’t just because of the deal at hand. There was something primal in his reaction, something he hadn’t expected to feel.

Sergei leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “A woman of few words. I respect that.”

The conversation continued, the details of the deal being ironed out with cool precision. But throughout it all, Dante’s attention was split—half focused on the negotiation, and half on Alessia. There was something about the way Sergei had spoken to her, the way he had looked at her, that didn’t sit right with him.

Why do I care? he asked himself, his thoughts simmering beneath the surface. She was his secretary, nothing more. She was efficient, professional, and completely unattainable. Yet, in that moment, Dante realized that he did care. More than he should.

The meeting ended with a handshake, but the tension lingered in the air long after Sergei and his men had left the room. Dante watched as Alessia calmly gathered the documents, her expression as unreadable as ever.

As they exited the Grand Cielo, the night air hit them like a wave of relief, but the tension between them remained palpable.

“You handled yourself well in there,” Dante said, his voice gruff as they reached the car.

Alessia turned to him, her dark eyes meeting his. “It’s what you pay me for.”

There was that distance again, the cold professionalism that kept her at arm’s length. But tonight, for the first time, Dante didn’t want the distance.

“Do I?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching hers for something more.

Alessia hesitated, the weight of his words settling between them. She could feel the shift, the pull that had been building between them for months. But she couldn’t afford to give in. Not with everything she had to protect.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice steady. “That’s all.”

But as she turned away, something in her chest tightened—a flicker of something dangerous that she couldn’t ignore.

And for Dante, watching her walk away, the realization hit harder than he expected.

He wanted more.