The elevator doors slid open with a cold chime.
Sarah stepped out, heels clicking like gunfire against the marble.
The guards at the entrance tried to stop her — they didn't stand a chance.
"I'm here for Dante Moretti," she said, her voice sharp as glass.
The receptionist blinked. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No," Sarah said. "Tell him his charity case just arrived."
A moment later, the phone buzzed. The woman swallowed and nodded. "He'll see you."
Sarah pushed open the tall glass doors, stepping into Dante's world.
---
His office was nothing like she expected.
No clutter. No chaos. Just power in silence.
Floor-to-ceiling windows bled sunlight across steel and leather.
A single man stood by the glass — dark suit, darker energy.
"Sarah." His voice was smooth, lazy, dangerous. "You've been avoiding me."
"Not anymore."
She pulled the envelope from her purse and dropped it on his desk.
The check slid across the polished wood.
"I don't take handouts."
Dante turned, his expression unreadable. "That wasn't a handout."
"Then what would you call it?"
He leaned on the desk, eyes glinting. "Insurance."
Her brow furrowed. "For what?"
"You," he said simply. "You're a risky investment."
She almost laughed. "So you own me now?"
A smirk ghosted his lips. "If I did, you'd know it."
The silence between them pulsed.
Her anger trembled beneath something else — curiosity, maybe, or attraction she refused to admit.
"Stop playing with me," she said. "You don't get to walk into my life, throw money around, and act like you care."
He tilted his head. "You think I care?"
"I think you're pretending not to."
Dante's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Sarah."
"Or what? You'll buy my company again?"
"Or I'll show you what happens when you push too far."
The air thickened.
Her pulse thudded in her throat.
"You don't scare me," she whispered.
He moved — too close, too suddenly.
His scent was expensive sin, his voice low enough to burn.
"Good," he murmured. "Fear is boring."
---
Sarah took a step back, heart racing.
"You think you can control me with money and mystery? I'm not one of your little toys, Dante."
He chuckled, soft but dangerous. "You really believe that?"
Her chin lifted. "Yes."
"Then why are you shaking?"
She froze.
He noticed everything — the tremor in her fingers, the uneven breath she tried to hide.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"You came here to return my money," he said. "But that's not the only thing you came for."
Her breath hitched. "You're wrong."
"Am I?" His thumb grazed her jaw, slow and deliberate. "Then tell me you haven't thought about me."
She wanted to. God, she wanted to.
But her silence betrayed her.
Dante smiled faintly — not in victory, but in recognition. "You're not built for lies, Sarah. That's what I like about you."
She swallowed hard. "You like nothing about me."
"Oh, I do," he said softly. "I like that you fight me. I like that you hate losing. And I especially like that you walked in here ready to burn me alive."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"But you won't win that way."
Her eyes flashed. "Then teach me how to win."
For a moment, neither spoke.
The city's hum filled the silence, a rhythm to their chaos.
Finally, Dante said, "Winning means surrendering what holds you back. Pride. Fear. Control."
She shook her head. "You want me to surrender to you."
"I want you to stop running from yourself."
Something inside her cracked.
She hated how his words felt true — how they reached places Dominic never touched, how they burned deeper than the betrayal ever did.
"Why me?" she whispered. "Out of everyone you could have used, why me?"
Dante's expression shifted — softer, but still shadowed. "Because you're the only one who doesn't flinch when I show who I am."
Sarah's throat tightened. "And who are you, Dante?"
He smiled — slow, dark, and devastating. "The man your ex will never recover from crossing."
Her breath caught. "You think I used you for revenge."
He stepped closer, close enough that her heart thudded against her ribs. "Didn't you?"
Her lips parted, but the words wouldn't come.
Then he leaned closer, his mouth near her ear.
His whisper brushed against her skin like heat.
> "You think you used me, Sarah?"
A pause.
> "You have no idea what you started."
---
Her pulse was a storm.
For a heartbeat, she forgot to breathe.
He pulled back, eyes locked on hers — calm, confident, unreadable.
Then he turned away, picked up the check, and slid it back into her purse.
"Keep it," he said. "You'll need it soon."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Dante didn't answer. He just smiled — slow, knowing.
As she stormed out of his office, anger and confusion tangled like fire in her chest.
She didn't see the phone light up on his desk — a message from one of his men.
> Dominic Vale is moving against Windsor Group. Orders?
Dante's fingers brushed the screen.
> Not yet. Let her see what war feels like. Then she'll come to me.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes on the door she'd just slammed.
> "You want revenge, sweetheart?" he murmured. "You'll get it. But on my terms."
---
Sarah's phone buzzes as she steps into her car.
An email alert. A single line in red:
> "Windsor Group – URGENT: ValeTech just withdrew from your merger deal."
Her breath caught.
She looked out the window — and across the street, Dante's black car was already waiting.
Watching.