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Dark Deal, Dirty Desires
Chapter 1 – The woman in white
Rome, midnight. The city didn't sleep; it whispered.
Beneath the golden chandeliers of Palazzo D'Oro, the underground auction pulsed like a secret heartbeat. Art, diamonds, weapons—everything had a price. Dominic Volkov watched from the balcony above, a glass of Brunello steady in his hand. He was Russia by birth, Rome by conquest. Every man below owed him either money, loyalty, or fear.
Tonight's prize: a ruby-inlaid dagger once owned by a Vatican executioner. But the relic wasn't what caught his attention.
She was.
She entered wrapped in silence and white silk. No mask, no escort. Her stride was deliberate, her gaze unflinching. The air shifted with her presence, as though even the chandeliers tilted to see.
Dominic's breath stilled. He didn't know her, yet something primal recognized the rhythm of her steps. She looked up—straight at him—and smiled. Calm. Knowing. Dangerous.
Fifteen minutes later, she stood alone in the private vault room, fingertips tracing the glass that caged the dagger. Dominic's voice cut through the stillness.
"You have ten seconds to explain who you are and what you think you're doing."
She didn't turn. "The dagger's beautiful," she murmured. "But not half as dangerous as the man trying to own it."
He stepped closer, the scent of cedar and gunmetal following. "You're not on the guest list."
"I'm not a guest."
"Then who are you?"
"Nyx," she said. "Like the goddess of the night."
Dominic's jaw tightened. "And what do you want, goddess?"
Her gaze slid from the relic to him. "A deal."
He caught her wrist, pressing her lightly against the marble wall. "You don't stroll into my city and throw that word around."
"I didn't come to play games," she breathed.
"Good," he replied. "Because I don't lose them."
Her pulse flickered beneath his fingers. "Then name your price."
He leaned close enough for his breath to graze her ear. "Truth."
She turned her head, lips almost brushing his. "Then take it."
Their mouths met—hard, reckless, brief. A spark, a challenge, a promise of war disguised as desire. When they parted, her smile was curved with mischief.
"I need something stolen," she said, voice steady. "And I need you."
Dominic studied her. "You're asking for a devil."
"I already danced with one," she replied, stepping past him. "Didn't burn enough."
"Midnight tomorrow," he said. "Tell me everything—or don't show your face again."
She paused at the door, white silk swaying. "I'll bring wine."
And she was gone—like moonlight retreating before dawn—leaving only the faint scent of danger and a man who suddenly hated the quiet.
Chapter 2 – The Devil's Invitation
Morning filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows of Dominic's penthouse overlooking the Colosseum. He had been awake for hours, pacing between marble and glass, mind replaying the whisper of silk, the defiance in green eyes.
At precisely midnight, the elevator chimed.
She kept her word.
Nyx stepped out in black—no longer the angelic figure from the auction, but a shadow that matched the city at night. She carried a bottle of red wine and the same unbothered smile.
"You invited me," she said.
"I warned you," he corrected.
He poured two glasses, the ritual of civility between predators. She didn't sip; she studied him.
"The dagger," she began, "is a key. There's a vault beneath the Vatican that shouldn't exist. Inside lies something every family in Italy wants. I need to reach it before they do."
Dominic's tone was calm. "You plan to rob the Holy See?"
"Not rob. Retrieve. What's inside belongs to the wrong people."
"And you need my resources."
"I need your discretion."
They circled each other verbally, every line a test.
Finally, Dominic said, "You lie easily, Nyx."
"And you believe selectively," she replied.
The faintest smile curved his mouth. "We understand each other."
The deal was struck without handshake or signature, only silence and a shared glance that lingered longer than either intended.
When she left, the night smelled of danger again—and something he couldn't name.
Chapter 3 – La Regina della Notte (Queen of the Night)
Three nights later, Rome shimmered under rain. Dominic found her at a rooftop bar in Trastevere, white lights reflected in the wet cobblestones below.
"You always stalk your partners?" she asked, not turning.
"I don't have partners," he said, sliding into the chair opposite. "Only people who test my patience."
She lifted her glass. "To patience, then."
He watched the streets through the glass wall behind her. "You met with the Luciano family. Why?"
Her smile faded. "Because they think they own what's in the vault. I intend to prove them wrong."
Lightning fractured the sky. For a second he saw something raw beneath her calm—fear, maybe memory. He almost asked, but she changed the subject.
"You could walk away, Dominic. No one would blame you."
"And let someone else steal what belongs in my city? No."
They sat in silence until rain began to fall again, soft against the glass roof.
Then she said quietly, "You'll regret trusting me."
"I already do," he answered.
They both smiled, knowing neither meant it.
Chapter 4 – Dirty Saints & Holy War
The catacombs beneath Rome were colder than legend.
By lantern light, the stones seemed to breathe.
Nyx moved ahead, dagger in hand, tracing carvings that pre-dated the Church itself. Dominic followed, gun drawn, every echo a threat. Above them, rival families converged—Lucianos, Calderas, men who'd sell their souls for what lay beneath.
They reached a sealed iron door.
"The key," she whispered, holding up the dagger.
It fit perfectly.
Inside was no gold, no relic—only files, sealed vials, and an emblem bearing the mark of the old papal intelligence network. The vault wasn't treasure; it was truth. Proof of corruption, of alliances that could crumble nations.
Dominic's voice was low. "This is what you wanted to steal?"
"I wanted to expose them," she said. "But I can't do it alone."
Gunfire erupted above. Dust rained from the ceiling.
He grabbed her hand. "Then we do it together."
Chapter 5 – Fire Under Marble
They hid for days in an abandoned villa outside Florence, hunted by every family in Italy.
Dominic's empire trembled; Nyx's past surfaced—former operative, betrayed by those she served.
At night, they argued about survival and loyalty. By morning, they plotted revenge. The dagger hung between them on the table, a reminder of how it started.
"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" he asked one dawn.
"Because you would've killed me before you listened."
"And now?"
"Now you might kill for me."
The words settled between them like ash after fire.
When the Luciano family finally found them, it wasn't Dominic's soldiers who saved them—it was Nyx, using the dagger not as a weapon but as proof. She broadcast the Vatican files to the world, exposing every lie.
The world burned for a week.
Epilogue – The Deal That Remains
Months later, Rome healed under new rules.
Dominic rebuilt quietly, wealth intact but power redefined.
Nyx disappeared again, leaving only a note in his study.
Some deals are meant to end. Others never do.
– N.
He smiled for the first time in months. On his desk lay the dagger—its ruby dull, its edge clean.
He poured a glass of Brunello, raised it toward the empty room.
"To the goddess of the night," he said softly. "May she never burn out."
Outside, Rome exhaled—ancient, eternal, and finally at peace.
End of Dark Deal, Dirty Desires