The room smelled of stale coffee, burnt paper, and secrets no one dared to speak. Jenny Parker sat straight-backed in the chair, her fingers tightening around the thin folder as Detective Colhart circled her like a vulture.
"You're the best we've got, Parker," he said, dropping a photo on the table.
Jenny's eyes looked down.
San Moretti.
The youngest son of the late Vincent Moretti, now the ruling king of the Moretti Crime Empire. Early 30s, sharp suit, sharper eyes, and a reputation soaked in blood and shadow.
Her chest tightened. Not from fear—but from what she was about to do.
"He's smart. Paranoid. Doesn't let women into his inner circle unless…" Colhart paused, staring at her with meaning.
"Unless he wants them," Jenny finished coolly. "Got it."
"We're not asking you to sleep with the devil," Colhart muttered, "but if that's what it takes to get inside—"
"I know what I signed up for," she snapped, then stood, slamming the folder shut. "When do I start?"
Colhart's expression didn't change. "Tonight. Club Averno. He'll be there."
The bass throbbed through Jenny's chest as she walked into Club Averno, the Morettis' front for laundering money—and recruiting loyal bodies. Smoke curled through the air, thick with perfume, cologne, and desperation.
She wore a fitted black dress, heels that clicked like gunshots, and a smirk that masked the real intentions inside her.
Then she saw him.
San Moretti.
Standing at the back of the club, surrounded by shadows and power, with a glass of something dark in his hand and eyes that pierced straight through the crowd—into her.
Their eyes met. Locked.
A flicker of something passed between them.
Recognition?
Interest?
Warning?
Jenny's breath caught, but she didn't let it show. She walked toward him like she belonged there. Like she wasn't a cop wearing a wire and a lie under her skin. Like this was something she had done often.
"Don't I know you?" San asked, voice smooth like sin, eyes never leaving hers.
Jenny tilted her head. "You tell me."
His lips twitched, amused. "You've got a face I won't forget."
"Then maybe you should buy me a drink," she said, sliding into the booth beside him. Too close. Too dangerous. Too confident.
He leaned in slightly. "What's your name?"
"Tara".
A lie. The first of many.
"Tara," he repeated slowly, like he was tasting it. "And what brings you to my club, Tara?"
"I heard this was the place to meet powerful men," she said, then let her hand trail along the rim of his glass. "And dangerous ones."
His gaze sharpened. "Are you looking for danger?"
Jenny smiled. "Maybe."
The silence between them crackled. Her heart thundered—this was more than flirting. He was assessing her. Testing. And for a second, she wondered if he already knew.
Then he said, "Dance with me."
It wasn't a request but more of an order.
She let him lead her onto the dance floor, his hand settling at the small of her back, warm and commanding. Their bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, as if drawn by a thread neither could sever.
His fingers curled slightly at her waist. "You move like someone who's hiding something."
She looked up at him, lips a few inches from his. "Maybe I am."
"And maybe," San murmured, "I like secrets."
She could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his breath on her neck. Everything about him screamed danger—and she wanted to run.
But Jenny Parker never ran.
"You're not like the others," he said, voice low.
"And what are the others like?"
"They want to be close to me," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You want to understand me."
Her pulse raced. He was reading her like a book she didn't remember writing.
Before she could speak, a tall man approached—Luca Moretti, San's older brother. The interruption was sharp.
"San," Luca said, eyeing Jenny coldly. "We've got a situation."
San's eyes lingered on Jenny a moment longer. "Stay," he said softly.
But when he turned to go, his hand lingered on hers.
As soon as he was gone, Jenny exhaled sharply, heart still pounding.
Jenny lingered near the edge of the dance floor, her eyes trailing after San as he disappeared into the VIP hallway, swallowed by shadows and secrets. The tension clung to her skin like sweat. She had danced with a monster—and instead of recoiling, her body still hummed from his touch.
Her phone buzzed inside her clutch.
COLHART: Did you make contact?
She typed fast, fingers trembling.
JENNY: Yes. He's… different. Sharp. He's watching me like he knows.
She hesitated before hitting send, her thumb hovering. What was that look in San's eyes?
Possession?
Curiosity?
Or suspicion?
She didn't have time to think properly.
San reappeared, striding toward her like a man with answers to questions she hadn't even asked. His jacket was gone, his white shirt now slightly undone at the collar. He looked less like a leader to an empire and more like temptation itself.
"Change of plans," he said, voice low. "Walk with me."
Jenny blinked. "W-W- Where?" she stuttered.
He didn't answer. Just gave her that same unreadable look and turned, expecting her to follow.
And she did.
He led her out of the main club, through a private back corridor lit in a crimson glow. No music. No crowd. Just them.
They stopped in front of a heavy door. San opened it and stepped inside. She followed.
It was an office. Sleek. Expensive. And locked from the inside.
Jenny was tense.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice cool, though her heart pounded.
San leaned against the desk, watching her like a predator sizing up prey. "You intrigue me, Tara."
"But I don't trust things I don't understand."
He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. "You show up out of nowhere. No past. No ties. No real name, I'm guessing."
Her breath caught.
He smirked. "I did my homework while I was gone. You think I let just anyone dance that close?"
Jenny forced a slow, seductive smile. "And what if I'm just a girl looking for fun?"
San's hand lifted. Not touching—hovering. As if he wanted to trace her jaw but wasn't sure if he should.
"Then you're either
brave," he murmured, "or stupid." he said this while taking something out of his pocket.
Jenny retreated in fear….what was he going to do to her she thought