Valentina's POV:
Her finger hovered uncertainly over the mousepad, heart tapping an uneven rhythm. The sleek logo blinked on the screen—Mirella & Co.—minimalist, elegant, a company that spoke of power without shouting. Not just a business, but a statement.
She leaned closer, reading the job listing again: Executive Assistant to Head of Creative Strategy. The description was almost hauntingly familiar, matching her skills better than anything she'd come across in weeks.
Location: Sydney CBD. Flexible hours. High confidentiality.
Odd, she thought. But exactly what she needed. She exhaled slowly, steadying her nerves.
With a final breath, she clicked Apply.
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Leo's Kitchen
The hum of the blender filled the air as Leo prepared a smoothie. Valentina rested against the cool marble counter, crossing her arms.
"I sent in my resume," she said, trying to keep her voice light.
He didn't turn immediately. When he finally did, his brow arched in mild surprise. "Which one?"
"Mirella & Co."
Leo paused mid-blend, his grip tightening slightly on the jar. "The design conglomerate?"
"Yeah. Why?"
He shrugged off his unease like a shadow but she caught the flicker in his eyes—a quick flash of worry. "Just… didn't expect you to want something so corporate."
She forced a smile, feeling the weight of hope and doubt swirling inside her. "They called within thirty minutes. Interview's tomorrow."
Leo stepped closer, his presence warm and grounding. "Just promise me one thing."
She met his eyes, curious.
"If anything feels off—anything—you walk away. No explanations. No second-guessing."
Her lips pressed together as she nodded. "Okay."
His words lingered, a subtle warning beneath the surface—something she couldn't quite place. Her heart thrummed with unease, like static before a storm she could neither see nor hear coming.
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Dante's POV:
The flickering monitor displayed Valentina's profile as it loaded in real-time.
She's taken the bait.
Dante's fingers drummed against the sleek desk, eyes narrowing as her application zipped through his carefully concealed channels. Not a trace of his name anywhere in the company records—his empire was buried beneath layers of shell corporations and forged identities.
"Assign her to Cassian," he commanded, voice low but deadly. "I want eyes on her. No mistakes."
Luca, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and watching the storm unfold, asked, "And Leo?"
Dante's jaw clenched, muscles tightening as if steel bands constricted his throat.
"I'll bleed that bastard later."
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Valentina's POV | Evening — Leo's Living Room
The weight of the day—the tangled job applications, the ache of memories, the shadow of Dante—melted away under the soft glow of the living room's warm light.
She sat cross-legged on the plush sectional, draped in a soft wool blanket that smelled faintly of cedar and vanilla. Her head rested against Isabella's shoulder, the comfort of her best friend grounding her.
Leo moved with practiced ease, carrying a tray with three wine glasses filled with a deep red that caught the light like liquid garnets.
"Movie night tradition," he smiled, setting down the tray with a gentle clink. "Tonight, Isabella's pick."
Isabella grinned mischievously. "Prepare yourselves for Love & Lasers 3—the one where the alien falls for a toaster."
Valentina groaned, laughter bubbling up despite herself. "Seriously? The alien and a toaster?"
Isabella nodded enthusiastically. "And somehow it's even worse than the last one."
They dissolved into laughter, the sound bright and unguarded—the first time in weeks she'd felt that lightness.
After the Movie Night
The credits rolled in soft silence. Shadows from the flickering screen painted gentle shapes across the walls, cocooning them in a quiet intimacy.
Valentina shifted closer to Leo on the couch, her breath catching as the warmth radiated from his steady presence. She wore a cozy oversized sweater in a muted olive green, the sleeves slightly frayed at the cuffs, and faded jeans that spoke of easy comfort rather than polish.
Her cheek pressed against his collarbone, the steady beat of his heart pulsing against her skin.
Leo's breath was slow, measured—a calm anchor in the storm of her racing mind.
His hand found hers, fingers weaving into hers with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she let the moment wash over her, the sharp edges of fear and doubt softening.
Here, in this quiet space, she could almost forget the shadows trailing her.
Leo brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his voice a low murmur.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me."
His confession hung between them, delicate and raw.
He'd spent years as the safe choice, the friend—the one who never stirred chaos.
But now, here she was, asleep against his chest, and something inside him cracked open.
"I think I love you," he whispered.
Unaware that across the street, in the shadowed interior of a black van, every word was caught by Dante's hidden microphone.
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Dante's POV:
Rage tore through him like a storm.
Glass shattered against marble. A chair crashed over.
His fists hammered the polished surface, each blow echoing like the roar of war drums.
"Porca miseria!" he spat, voice rough and burning. ("Bloody hell!")
"Quell'idiota di Leo pensa di tenerla lontana da me?" he snarled, eyes blazing with fire. ("That idiot Leo thinks he can keep her away from me?")
Snatching a framed photo from the wall—his own face next to Valentina's—he tore it in two and flung it across the room.
Luca stepped carefully into the chaos, tablet in hand, already anticipating his master's fury.
"Luca," Dante growled, "non rallentare. Voglio tutto pronto, subito." ("Luca, don't slow down. I want everything ready immediately.")
He paced like a caged beast, fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms.
"Leo Moretti thinks he's untouchable. Bene, gli insegnerò la lezione più dura della sua vita." ("Good. I'll teach him the hardest lesson of his life.")
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, cold as ice.
"Prepara tutto. Attaccheremo presto." ("Prepare everything. We attack soon.")
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Dante stood amid the wreckage of his office—papers scattered like fallen leaves, shattered glass glinting under the cold overhead lights. His shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled up hastily, collar loose and stained with sweat. Dark circles framed his piercing eyes, burning with an obsession that no sleep could soothe.
He paced back and forth, fingers trembling as he lit and crushed cigarette after cigarette, the acrid smoke curling around him like a shroud. The chaos mirrored the storm inside his mind—every heartbeat pounding with one relentless thought: Valentina.
Dante's pacing was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Without waiting, Luca stepped inside, his face grim beneath the dim light.
"Signore," Luca said quietly, "Isabella helped Valentina get away."
Dante's breath hitched, the rage inside him twisting tighter. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.
"Isabella?" He growled, eyes darkening. "She's with her now?"
Luca nodded. "Yes, she sheltered Valentina—kept her hidden until the heat died down."
Dante's lips curved into a dangerous smile, but his voice softened just enough to reveal a rare flicker of care.
"I don't want Valentina to lose her dearest friend."
He leaned forward, voice low and possessive.
"You handle this one, Luca. Keep her close… give her the special treatment."
His glare hardened. "If you want, keep her for yourself, but be careful she seems a clever one"
Luca's eyes flickered with surprise but he said nothing, only bowed slightly and exited.
Dante remained, burning with an obsession that no one would ever break.
Valentina is mine — no matter the cost.