Valentina's POV:
Valentina woke to the gentle kiss of sunlight on her face. It was a holiday—thank God—and more importantly, Marco's birthday. A hum of excitement buzzed through her chest. The day ahead was mapped out in her mind: a sun-drenched picnic with Isabella, and later, the glimmering promise of a fancy dinner with Marco at The Onyx.
She threw on a soft summer dress, something flowy and floral, then headed out to their usual campus spot—under the wide, gossip-loving branches of the old oak tree.
Isabella was already there, lounging like a cat in the sun, earbuds in, waving a sandwich in greeting.
"You're late," she announced dramatically as Valentina flopped beside her. "I've already gossiped with two squirrels and a very chatty bird."
Valentina laughed. "Well, I hope they were more interesting than your last date."
"Oh, absolutely. The squirrel didn't humblebrag about crypto once."
They burst into giggles, settling into the blanket as the warmth of the day wrapped around them.
"So," Isabella said, eyes twinkling, "The infamous Marco turns twenty-one. Big plans? Or are you just showing up to steal his birthday cake again?"
Valentina grinned. "He's taking me to The Onyx tonight."
Isabella sat up. "Whoa, fancy. Are we talking candlelight, mood lighting, violins in the corner?"
Valentina shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Probably just overpriced pasta and him trying to act cool in a blazer."
Isabella narrowed her eyes playfully. "So... are we calling this serious serious now?"
Valentina grew quiet for a beat, chewing her sandwich. "It's good, Isa. He's... safe. Kind. There's no drama. After everything with Dante..." She trailed off.
Isabella's teasing faded a little. "You okay?"
Valentina blinked the thought away, shaking her head. "Totally. It's just nice to have something easy, you know?"
But that wasn't entirely true. Somewhere, in the corner of her mind, the memory of Dante's intense gaze flickered—like a match refusing to die out. The press of his fingers on her waist, the dark pull of him.
She squashed it. That chapter was over.
"Anyway," she said, snapping out of it, "tell me everything about last night's library 'study' session with Alex."
"Oh girl," Isabella sighed. "Let's just say the only thing I studied was his jawline."
They collapsed into giggles again. The rest of the afternoon passed like that—snacks, gossip, long stretches of laughter. But in the shadows, something had already begun to stir.
Dante's POV: The Rooftop Plan
Across the city, Dante stood on the rooftop of his penthouse, the wind clawing at his black suit. Below, the city sprawled like a living thing—noisy, chaotic, easy to manipulate.
Luca stood beside him, silent as always.
"Is everything in place?" Dante's voice was barely louder than the wind.
"As you commanded," Luca replied. "Marco Rossi's accounts—flagged. His academic record—under review. His family business—suddenly on the radar for three separate audits."
Dante nodded, slow satisfaction settling over his face. "Bene." (Good.)
"And tonight?"
"A table secured at The Onyx. Lavish choice. Risky for a student, even one with a generous trust fund."
A cold smile touched Dante's lips. "He won't be enjoying it for long."
Luca hesitated. "You really want to… dismantle him? Piece by piece?"
Dante turned his head slightly, his eyes sharp and dark. "It's not about dismantling. It's about eliminating distractions." He looked back at the skyline. "Ha cercato di prendere ciò che è mio, Luca. Non morirà in fretta. Si sgretolerà, lentamente, dolorosamente."(He tried to take what's mine. He won't die quickly. He'll unravel, slowly, painfully.)
Luca said nothing, but the weight of this path was clear in his furrowed brow.
"And if she resents you for it?"
"She won't know," Dante said simply. "She'll just feel the ground shift. I'll be there. Her constant. Her escape."
He stepped forward, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on the glowing horizon.
"Prepare the car, Luca," he murmured, voice low and electric. "Ho un'apparizione da fare." (I have an appearance to make.)
And like a storm on the edge of the city, he was moving in.
🌙 Valentina's POV: An Uneasy Celebration
Later that evening, Valentina was smoothing her black satin dress over her hips. She turned slightly, checking the mirror—okay, stunning. She reached for her heels, then paused.
For a second, she saw Dante.Not really there, but the memory of his touch, his breath against her neck, his voice—low, possessive—whispering her name.
She blinked, swallowed. "Nope. Not tonight, demon ghost."
Her phone buzzed. Marco.
"Hey!" she answered, cheery. "Almost ready! Are you on your way?"
"I'm actually outside," he said. His voice… off. Tight.
"Outside? Why didn't you ring?"
"Just… come down, okay?"
A ripple of unease ran down her spine. Still, she grabbed her clutch and headed out.
Marco stood leaning against his car, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders tight. Not his usual playful self.
"Happy birthday!" she greeted him with a smile, nudging his arm. "You look like someone just canceled cake."
He managed a weak chuckle. "Thanks, Val."
She studied him. "What's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost."
He avoided her eyes. "It's… my family's business. Stuff's just gotten complicated."
Valentina reached out, gently squeezing his arm. "Complicated how?"
"Let's not ruin tonight." He opened the car door for her, dodging the question. "I'll explain everything tomorrow."
She slid into the seat, worry gnawing at her—but she nodded. Tonight was supposed to be about him.
The restaurant was beautiful—soft jazz, golden lights, polished marble. But Marco was distant, and his laugh didn't ring true.
Valentina tried to stay present, smiling through the tension. Yet the feeling wouldn't shake.
Something was off. And somewhere, watching, Dante was already playing his next move.