⚠️ Contains power tension, intimidation, and emotional chemistry.
> "You're not supposed to know my name," Ariella said, keeping her voice steady even though her fingers curled tighter around the pepper spray.
Dante Moretti stepped forward into the flickering light of the alley. His presence was maddeningly calm, and everything about him screamed control—his suit, his posture, his dark, unreadable eyes.
"I know a lot about you, Ariella Cruz," he said, enunciating her name like a threat. "Curious little thing with a death wish."
"I prefer the term journalist," she shot back, chin high. "You don't scare me."
He smiled—and that was more terrifying than a snarl. "That's your first mistake."
She swallowed. Hard.
The air between them crackled like static. She hated that her pulse raced—not from fear, but something more dangerous.
Attraction.
No. Not now. Not him.
"Why are you here?" she asked, keeping her distance. "If you're going to kill me, at least have the decency not to flirt first."
Dante chuckled, a dark, low sound that echoed off the brick walls.
"If I wanted you dead, Miss Cruz… you wouldn't still be standing."
That should have chilled her. Instead, it made her furious.
"Then what? A warning? A scare tactic? I've seen scarier."
He moved closer—close enough she could see the faint scar along his jawline.
"Call it a… conversation. Consider this your first and final warning: stay away from my family."
Ariella's voice was steady, but her heart thudded in her chest.
"I don't take orders from criminals."
His eyes darkened. "You're digging a grave with that attitude."
"And you're afraid I'll find something worth digging for."
A long silence stretched between them. Then Dante leaned in, his voice a whisper near her ear.
"You don't know what you're playing with, Ariella. And if you keep poking monsters, eventually… one will bite."
---
> The next morning, Ariella sat at her desk, replaying the encounter in her head. Her editor had called twice. She ignored both.
She didn't sleep.
She couldn't.
That man—Dante—had warned her, but hadn't tried to stop her. Not really.
Which meant he knew something big. And that terrified her… because she still wanted to chase it.
---
Meanwhile, in a towering penthouse above Manhattan…
"You met her?" Luca raised an eyebrow as Dante poured himself a drink.
"She's persistent," Dante said quietly. "And reckless. She has no idea what she's getting into."
Luca smirked. "So what now? We silence her?"
Dante stared into the glass. "No. Not yet."
"You're hesitating."
"She's not like the others," he muttered.
Luca laughed. "You're thinking with the wrong head, boss."
Dante's jaw clenched. He didn't respond.
But in his mind, he saw her again. That fire in her eyes. That stubborn tilt of her chin.
No… she wasn't like the others.
And that's exactly what made her dangerous.
---
To be continued...