---
CHAPTER 4 — THE PRICE OF A SECRET
Aria didn't remember walking back to her apartment.
Her legs moved, her mind floated, and every step felt like she was walking on broken glass. The moment she closed the door behind her, her back slid down the wood and she exhaled a shaky breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Her heart wasn't beating normally.
It was pounding—
fast, heavy, chaotic—
like the rhythm belonged to someone else now.
Like Dimitri had taken control of it.
She pressed her palms against her face.
What have you done?
She had gotten too close tonight. Closer than any undercover agent ever should.
Dimitri Russo wasn't just a mafia heir.
He wasn't just dangerous, or powerful, or intelligent.
He was… aware.
And that made him lethal.
Aria stumbled toward her laptop, opened her encrypted program, and typed with trembling fingers:
> "Progress made. Target suspicious. Avoid unnecessary contact."
She stared at the words.
They felt like lies—half-truths wrapped in excuses.
Contact was already necessary.
Worse, it felt inevitable.
She closed the laptop, buried her face in her hands, and tried to steady her breath.
But then—
Her phone buzzed.
She froze.
A message.
From an unknown number.
Her pulse stopped.
She clicked it.
> DIMITRI:
You forgot something.
Aria's breath hitched.
Forgot something? She replayed last night— her bag, her jacket, her phone—everything was with her.
Her hands moved before her brain did.
> ARIA:
What?
Three dots appeared immediately.
He was waiting for her.
Watching the screen.
It felt intimate in the most terrifying way.
Then the reply came.
> DIMITRI:
You forgot to tell me your name.
Aria's stomach dropped.
She stared at the message as if it were a loaded gun.
She should ignore him.
She should block him.
She should run.
But her fingers responded on their own.
> ARIA:
It's Aria.
There.
The truth.
One small, stupid truth out of the thousands she was hiding.
Almost instantly—
> DIMITRI:
Aria.
Pretty.
I'll call you tomorrow.
She swallowed hard.
> ARIA:
Don't.
And then—
> DIMITRI:
I wasn't asking.
The conversation ended.
Her knees weakened.
This—
this was how it began.
Not with threats.
Not with violence.
But with a man who wasn't used to being told no…
and a woman who had just given him a name to hold onto.
---
THE NEXT MORNING
Aria wore black today.
Black jeans, black boots, black shirt.
Simple. Professional. Forgettable.
But stepping into the glass tower of Russo Enterprises felt like walking into a lion's cage wearing a steak around her neck.
She scanned her ID at the security checkpoint.
The guard nodded.
"Morning, Aria."
Her stomach twisted. Hearing her name out loud inside his building felt dangerous, like painting a target on her forehead.
She walked toward the elevator—
but the doors slid open before she touched the button.
Dimitri stepped out.
As if he'd timed it.
As if he'd been waiting.
His gaze locked on her instantly—sharp, cold, assessing—but something else lingered behind it.
Something that shouldn't have been there.
Softness.
The kind that only existed when a predator found something interesting.
He walked toward her, each step slow, measured, deliberate.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
"Good morning, Aria."
Her throat tightened.
He said her name like it was something he owned, something he could pick up and play with whenever he wanted.
"Morning," she managed.
Dimitri stepped closer—too close.
Close enough to smell his cologne: expensive, cold, dangerous.
"You didn't answer my call," he murmured.
"I was busy."
A faint smirk curved his lips.
"You're always busy."
She crossed her arms. "Because I work."
"And I admire that." His eyes flicked to her laptop bag. "New program for me today?"
Her breath tensed. "Something like that."
"Good." His voice dipped lower. "I like when you bring me new things."
Her palms went sweaty.
Because he meant more than work.
He always did.
He took another step forward, invading her space so deeply she felt the heat of his breath against her cheek.
"Tell me," he said softly.
"Did you think about me last night?"
Her heart jumped.
"Dimitri—"
"Because," he whispered, "I was thinking about you."
Her breath caught.
This wasn't part of the mission.
This wasn't part of any plan.
But Dimitri Russo was a storm—
and she was already caught inside it.
She swallowed. "You shouldn't be thinking about me."
He smiled dangerously.
"Too late."
---
INSIDE HIS OFFICE
He closed the door behind them, then leaned against his desk, arms crossed.
"Tell me the truth," he said.
"Why were you really in my private floor two nights ago?"
Her blood froze.
He didn't look angry.
He looked curious.
And curiosity in a man like him was more dangerous than fury.
"System updates," she lied smoothly.
"You approved the access."
He stared at her like he could peel the truth off her skin if he looked long enough.
Then he stepped closer.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Until her back hit the wall.
Dimitri placed one hand beside her head, caging her in.
His voice was low enough to bruise.
"I know when someone is lying to me, Aria."
Her pulse throbbed in her throat.
"And I know when someone is scared."
She didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
His eyes softened—barely.
"I don't want you scared of me."
Her chest tightened.
"I'm not scared."
That was a lie.
She was terrified.
But not of him hurting her.
Of him seeing her.
Of him wanting her.
Of her wanting him back.
Dimitri leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.
"Good," he whispered.
"Because I don't break things I want to keep."
Her breath vanished.
He pulled back, just enough for their eyes to meet.
"Now," he said softly, "go to the server room. I want your analysis in an hour."
Aria nodded, swallowed hard, and stepped past him—
but he caught her wrist gently.
"One more thing."
She turned.
His eyes were burning.
"If someone threatens you," he said, voice dangerously soft,
"I expect you to tell me."
She blinked.
"What?"
His jaw tightened.
"Who left that threatening note on your door last night?"
Her heart stopped.
She hadn't told anyone.
No one had seen it.
She'd removed it immediately.
How—
How did he know?
She opened her mouth but no words came.
Dimitri stepped closer, his voice dark, possessive, lethal.
"Aria…"
His fingers brushed her jaw.
"I take care of what's mine."
Her breath fractured.
"I'm not yours."
He smiled—slow, sinful, certain.
"Not yet."
Then he released her wrist and turned back to his desk as if the world hadn't just shifted on its axis.
Aria walked out of the office, her knees barely holding her up, her pulse a runaway drum.
She thought she was infiltrating him.
But Dimitri Russo—
was already breaking into her.
And somewhere deep inside her chest…
A part of her wasn't fighting it anymore.
---