The next morning dawned gray, the kind of colorless sky that made the city feel heavy.
Ava dragged herself out of bed, the memory of Dante's message still burning in her mind.
Sweet dreams, Ava.
How had he gotten her number? How many pieces of her life had he already slipped his hands into without her knowing?
She moved through her routine like a ghost — coffee, shower, pressed blouse, lipstick. Her reflection in the mirror looked composed, but her stomach was knotted.
By the time she reached the office, she'd rehearsed a mantra in her head:
It was one night. It's over. I'll never see him again.
She needed to believe it.
Work was chaos, as usual. Deadlines loomed, clients called, her inbox overflowed. The clatter of keyboards and the buzz of phones filled the open floor plan. Ava threw herself into the noise, grateful for the distraction.
She was halfway through drafting a proposal when the atmosphere shifted.
It was subtle at first. Conversations quieted. Heads turned. A ripple of silence spread like a wave through the office.
And then she heard it — the low click of expensive shoes against marble floors.
Her heart stuttered.
She looked up.
Dante Moretti was walking through the office like he belonged there.
Tailored black suit. Silver cufflinks catching the light. That aura of quiet command that made people instinctively step aside.
Beside him was her boss, Mr. Callahan, looking oddly deferential, nodding as though Dante were the CEO and not some stranger walking into a marketing firm.
Ava's mouth went dry.
"What the hell…" she whispered under her breath.
Dante's gaze swept the room, slow and deliberate, until it landed on her. His eyes lingered, and something in his expression softened — not for them, just for her.
She froze, her fingers tightening around her pen.
"Ava Carter," Callahan's voice carried across the room, snapping her out of her daze.
"Come with me."
Every eye in the office followed her as she stood, her heels clicking nervously against the polished floor. She felt exposed, like she was being led to the gallows.
In Callahan's glass-walled office, Dante was already seated. He didn't stand. He didn't need to. His presence filled the room effortlessly.
"Mr. Moretti is considering a partnership with our firm," Callahan explained, his smile stretched too thin. "He's particularly interested in working with you."
Ava's stomach dropped. "Me?"
Dante finally spoke, his voice smooth,
"You impressed me."
She nearly choked. "We've never—" She caught herself, pulse racing. "We've never worked together."
His gaze was unreadable. "I've seen your work."
Callahan beamed, oblivious to the tension curling in the air. "Excellent. I'll let you two discuss the details."
And then, just like that, her boss left, shutting the door behind him.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Ava turned on Dante, her voice sharp, low. "What are you doing here?"
"Business." He leaned back in the chair, utterly at ease. "And you."
Her pulse spiked. "This is my workplace. You can't just—"
"I can," he cut in smoothly, his eyes locking on hers. "And I did."
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You don't own me."
"No," he admitted. "But I'm not finished with you."
She sucked in a breath, furious with herself for the way her body responded to his words, the heat curling low in her stomach despite the danger in his tone.
"You can't just walk into my life and decide—"
"Yes, I can." His voice sharpened, though he never raised it. "When I want something, Ava, I don't let it slip away. And you…" His eyes dragged over her slowly, deliberately. "…you're not slipping away."
Her throat tightened. "You don't even know me."
Dante stood then, moving closer with unhurried steps until he was only a breath away. His presence was overwhelming, the air between them heavy.
"I know enough," he murmured. "Enough to know you're worth the trouble."
Her chest rose sharply. "I'm not trouble."
That faint, dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. "Not yet."
The door suddenly opened. Callahan popped his head back in, oblivious to the tension simmering between them.
"Everything alright in here?"
Ava practically jumped back, putting space between herself and Dante. She forced a tight smile. "Yes. We're… fine."
Dante's gaze never left her as Callahan nodded and closed the door again.
"Careful," Dante said softly once they were alone again. "You're a terrible liar."
Her pulse hammered. "Stay away from me."
He studied her for a moment, then leaned in just enough that only she could hear. "That's not going to happen."
With that, he turned and walked out, as though he hadn't just set fire to her carefully constructed life.
The rest of the day was a blur. Whispers followed her through the office — who was that man, why was he here, why had he singled her out? Ava ignored them, burying herself in work until the sky outside darkened.
But no amount of work erased the way his words clung to her, the certainty in his voice.
By the time she left the office, her nerves were frayed.
The city streets were alive with honking taxis and the chatter of passersby. She walked quickly, clutching her purse like a lifeline.
Halfway down the block, she felt it again — that weight of being watched.
She turned, and there he was.
Dante stood across the street, leaning casually against his car, as if he had all the time in the world.
Their eyes met. Heat, danger, inevitability.
Ava's breath caught.
She turned sharply and walked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stopping. But the truth sank deep into her chest with every step.
Dante Moretti wasn't going anywhere.
And worse — a part of her didn't want him to.