The faint hum of a private jet filled the air as Dante Russo leaned back in his leather seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. The cabin was dim, save for the soft glow of a tablet screen on the table in front of him. On it was a photo of Andrew Remington, smiling and polished, the perfect image of success. Dante's dark eyes narrowed as he studied the image, his lips curling into a faint smirk.
"So this is him," Dante said, his voice low and cold. "The golden boy."
Across from him, one of Matteo's lieutenants, a wiry man named Carlo, nodded. "Andrew Remington. Son of Philip and Evelyn Remington. Heir to their clean little empire."
Dante snorted. "Clean? Nobody stays clean in this world. Not for long, anyway."
The plane descended smoothly toward the New York skyline, its lights twinkling like a sea of stars. Dante's smirk deepened. He wasn't just here for family matters—he was here to ensure that Sophia stayed in line and that Matteo's plan stayed on track. But as far as Dante was concerned, there was another reason for his trip. Andrew Remington wasn't just a pawn in Matteo's game—he was competition. And Dante had never been fond of losing.
The first time Andrew met Dante Russo, it was unplanned. Andrew had just finished a late meeting at Remington Industries and was walking through the lobby of his building when he noticed a man waiting near the front desk. The man stood out immediately—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive yet understated black suit. His dark features were sharp, almost predatory, and his presence commanded attention.
"Andrew Remington," the man said as Andrew approached, his tone casual but tinged with something more. "We finally meet."
Andrew frowned slightly. "You have me at a disadvantage. And you are?"
The man extended a hand, his grip firm and deliberate. "Dante Russo. Sophia's brother."
Andrew's eyes narrowed slightly. He had heard about Dante but had never met him in person. Sophia had mentioned her brother in passing, but her descriptions were vague, almost evasive. Standing in front of him now, Andrew understood why.
"It's nice to meet you," Andrew said politely, though his instincts told him to tread carefully. "What brings you to New York?"
Dante smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Family matters. I thought it was time I met the man who's marrying my little sister."
Andrew nodded, though he couldn't shake the feeling that Dante's words carried an unspoken threat. "I'm sure Sophia will be happy to see you."
"I'm sure she will," Dante replied smoothly. "But right now, it's you I wanted to meet."
Andrew's brow furrowed. "And why is that?"
Dante leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You seem like a smart guy, Andrew. You've built a reputation for yourself, worked hard to keep the Remington name spotless. I respect that. But let me give you a piece of advice: my sister is precious to me. If anything were to happen to her—if anyone were to hurt her—there wouldn't be enough walls in this city to hide behind."
Andrew held Dante's gaze, his jaw tightening. "Sophia's happiness is my priority."
Dante straightened, his smirk returning. "Good. Then we shouldn't have any problems."
That evening, Andrew brought up the encounter to Sophia. They were sitting in the living room of the estate, a fire crackling softly in the hearth.
"I met your brother today," Andrew said casually, watching her reaction.
Sophia's hand paused mid-reach for her wine glass, her expression flickering with something Andrew couldn't quite place. "Dante's here? In New York?"
"He didn't tell you?" Andrew asked, his voice calm but probing.
Sophia shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, but that's Dante. He likes to… show up unannounced."
Andrew studied her, his unease growing. "He wanted to meet me."
Sophia's fingers tightened slightly around her glass. "And how did that go?"
"He was polite, for the most part," Andrew said, though his tone carried a hint of doubt. "But he made it very clear how much he cares about you."
Sophia exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "That's just Dante. He's overprotective, but he means well."
Andrew nodded, though he wasn't convinced. "He's… intense."
Sophia laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. "That's one way to describe him."
Meanwhile, Dante had settled into a luxurious penthouse overlooking Central Park. The room was dark except for the city lights streaming through the windows. Carlo stood by the bar, pouring two glasses of whiskey as Dante stared out at the skyline.
"What do you think of him?" Carlo asked, handing Dante a glass.
Dante took a slow sip, his expression unreadable. "He's polished. Careful. The kind of guy who plays by the rules."
Carlo smirked. "The opposite of us, then."
Dante chuckled, though the sound was devoid of humor. "Exactly. And that's why he's dangerous."
Carlo frowned. "Dangerous? He doesn't seem like a threat."
Dante turned to face him, his gaze sharp. "That's what makes him a threat. He's clean. People trust him. That kind of influence is hard to fight."
"So what's the plan?" Carlo asked.
Dante swirled the whiskey in his glass, his mind racing. "The plan is to make sure he knows who he's dealing with. And if he steps out of line…" He trailed off, his smirk returning. "Well, accidents happen."
Over the next few days, Dante began inserting himself into Andrew and Sophia's lives in subtle but calculated ways. He showed up at the estate unannounced, charming the staff and winning over Philip and Evelyn with his wit and charisma. But Andrew noticed the way Dante's eyes lingered on him during conversations, the way his words seemed to carry double meanings.
One afternoon, Andrew found Dante in the garden, speaking quietly with Sophia. He couldn't hear the words, but the tension between them was palpable. When he approached, Dante's expression shifted instantly, a practiced smile replacing the cold intensity Andrew had glimpsed just moments before.
"Andrew," Dante said warmly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "We were just talking about you."
"Good things, I hope," Andrew replied, his tone light but edged with caution.
"The best," Dante said smoothly. "You're a lucky man, you know. My sister's one of a kind."
Andrew nodded, his eyes flickering to Sophia. She avoided his gaze, her expression strained.
As Dante walked away, Andrew turned to Sophia. "What was that about?"
Sophia hesitated before replying. "Nothing. He's just… being Dante."
Andrew didn't press her, but the knot in his stomach tightened. Dante wasn't just being overprotective—he was sending a message. And Andrew had the sinking feeling that whatever game Dante was playing, it was only just beginning.