(KRYSTAL'S POV)
The restaurant is pure elegance. Dim chandeliers hang from the ceiling, soft jazz humming in the background, and the faint aroma of truffle and garlic hanging in the air. The kind of place where every detail screams money.
I swirl the wine in my glass, take another slow sip, and glance at my phone for the third time.
8:49 PM.
He's late.
I sigh, drop my phone beside my clutch, and stare at the flickering candle in the middle of the table. The light dances on the polished silverware and for a second, I think about leaving.
But then, the doors open.
And there he is.
Valentino Vipera in an immaculate white suit, his shirt buttoned down just enough to tease his pecs. The entire restaurant seems to shift when he walks in, like even the air recognizes who he is.
He scans the room, searching with those green eyes. Then they find me, and for a moment, everything stops.
The way his eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face makes my heart skip a beat.
I don't even realize I'm smiling back until he starts walking over.
(VALENTINO'S POV)
Before I even drop into the chair across from her, she's got her arms folded and that look that tells me I'm in trouble.
"You're twenty minutes late on our first date," she says. "How charming."
I sigh. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. Business ran longer than I expected. I got a bit carried away, but—" I meet her eyes. "I swear I'll make it up to you. Don't be mad."
She holds the frown for a beat longer, then suddenly bursts out laughing. "Relax. I'm messing with you. But if you'd kept me waiting another five minutes, I would've walked out and pretended this date never happened."
I grin, lifting a brow. "Noted. I'll never be late again on another date."
She leans forward, wiggling her brows. "Ooh. Another date?" she teases in a playful tone. "So you're planning ahead already?"
"I like your vibe," I tell her. "And I wanna see where this goes."
She smirks. "You're bold, I'll give you that."
"Let's order before you change your mind."
I flag down a waiter, who practically trips over himself to get to the table. "Mr. Vipera, good evening," he says with a nod. "What would you like to order, sir?"
I gesture toward Krystal. "The lady first."
She studies the menu for a moment, then says, "I'll have the Bolognese spaghetti. It looks incredible."
"I'll have the same," I add. "And also… bring me the best bottle of red we've got in the house."
The waiter nods and disappears.
"The food here is amazing," I say, resting my arm on the back of my chair. "I made sure to bring in the best Italian chefs in Vegas. It's like a little piece of home."
Her smile softens. "Then I can't wait to taste it."
But just as she's about to take another sip of her wine, her eyes narrow on my right hand.
"Wait… is that blood?" She grabs my hand before I can move it away. "Oh my God, are you hurt?"
I pull back quickly, forcing a grin as I wipe at the smear with my handkerchief. "No, no. I'm fine. It's not mine."
Her brows lift. "Should I be alarmed by that?"
I pause, then let out a breath. "Maybe."
Her eyes flicker with curiosity.
"Before we go any further with… whatever this is," I say, leaning forward, "there's something I need to tell you. So you don't ever say I didn't warn you."
She tilts her head, her blue eyes locked on mine. "What is it?"
"I'm a very dangerous man," I tell her quietly.
She doesn't flinch. Instead, her fingers slide over my hand again, slow and deliberate, tracing circles against my skin. Her lips curve into that teasing smile.
"Well, lucky you," she says. "I live for danger."
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. "No, Krystal. I'm serious. You might think I'm just some rich guy who owns nightclubs, casinos and fancy restaurants like this one, but the truth is…" I hold her gaze. "I'm part of the criminal underworld. The Italian Mafia. I run my own crew here in Vegas."
I wait for a reaction. Any reaction.
But she just stares at me, completely stunned.
"Hey… say something." I plead softly.
When she finally speaks, her voice is calm. "I thought those were just… rumors."
I shrug, smirking faintly. "They don't call me The King of Sin City for nothing."
She blinks a few times. "Huh." Then she nods, unfazed. "I'm fine with it."
I tilt my head, studying her. "You are?"
She shrugs. "All my life, I've had to hustle for cash. Got fired from more jobs than I can count, spent nights washing dishes and serving tables, sold drugs for a while, robbed a few assholes who deserved it. Almost got killed a couple times for it too."
My lips twitch. "Just like how you stole my wristwatch?"
She smirks. "I wouldn't call it stealing. I was just borrowing."
"You've got fast hands," I say. "You took it off and I didn't even feel a thing. How'd you do it?"
She leans back with a playful glint in her eyes. "That's a secret I'll never tell."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're lucky I like you."
"Anyway," she continues, "That's why I ended up working at your club. Seemed like a safer gig compared to everything else I was doing to survive."
I study her quietly for a moment. "Who taught you how to fight?"
"Life on the streets teaches you quick. When you're struggling to survive, you learn a trick or two."
Something about the way she says it makes my chest tighten a little. "What about your parents? Where were they in all this?"
Her expression shifts. The light in her eyes suddenly going dim.
"Hey," I say softly, "It's okay, you don't have to—"
"It's fine." She exhales, then goes silent for a moment.
"My parents died in a car crash when I was seven. I went from one shitty foster home to another until I got adopted by a family that thought I was their personal punching bag. It got to a point I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran away and never looked back."
I don't say anything for a few seconds. Then I reach across the table and take her hand. "Krystal, you deserved better than that."
Her lips part, like she wants to say something, but then the waiter returns, setting down our plates and the chilled wine bucket beside us.
"Your meals, Mr. Vipera. Miss."
"Grazie," I say, nodding.
I pop the wine, pour her a glass, then mine. "Taste it," I tell her, motioning to the food. "You'll love it."
She twirls the spaghetti around her fork, takes a bite, and the second it hits her tongue, her eyes go wide.
"Oh my fucking god," she moans, covering her mouth slightly. "This is incredible."
I can't help but smile. "Told you."
She keeps eating, clearly lost in the flavors, and for a moment I just sit there watching her—the way her eyes light up, the small smile tugging at her lips.
And that's when I get this warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach. This woman keeps making me feel things I've never felt for anyone before.
I lean back in my chair, one hand still holding my glass as I watch her slowly lick the last bit of sauce from her lip. I swear she does it on purpose, like she knows what that does to a man.
"So," I say, swirling the wine in my glass, "you up for a little game?"
Krystal's eyes narrow a little, a playful glint lighting them up. "A game? Why?"
I smile. "To help us know each other better."
She tilts her head, resting her chin on her hand. "Alright, you've got my attention. What kind of game?"
"Simple," I say. "We take turns asking each other questions. No holding back. But—" I lift the wine bottle slightly, "if you don't wanna answer, you drink a full glass of wine."
Her lips curl up, and I can already tell she's amused. "So this is a ploy to get me drunk?"
"Maybe," I admit, letting a grin tug at my mouth.
She sighs dramatically. "Fine. I'll play your silly game." Her tone drops, sultry. "Who's going first?"
"Ladies first."
She lifts her glass slightly in mock salute. "Gentleman. I like that."
"Okay..." her smirk deepens. "First question. What's your body count?"