Back in high school, Elena Rossi, daughter of a textile dynasty, was the girl everyone noticed, gliding past in neatly pressed uniforms, her head held high, her notebooks perfectly aligned. She seemed untouchable, her world already paved in wealth and power.
Dante Moretti, His family did not rank in Milan's gilded upper crust, not yet. But intelligence? That was his crown.
And Dante's attention remained on Elena even as his eyes wandered.
He would stay late to solve equations on a book and put it in her school desk, equations she once struggled over. never letting her see his quiet rescues.
Elena never knew. And Alessia never forgave.
"Elena Rossi," Alessia Romano had whispered one afternoon, leaning across Dante's desk. Her glossy hair framed a smile too sharp to be kind. "You think she even knows your name? You're wasting your brilliance on a girl who doesn't notice anyone below her marble pedestal."
Dante's jaw clenched. "It isn't about whether she notices."
Alessia tilted her head, wounded but hiding it with venom. "She never will, Dante. She doesn't admire you. She doesn't see you."
But he had seen her. For Dante that was enough.
---
In the present day, the oak-paneled boardroom buzzed with tension. Elena stood at the head of the table, shoulders squared, a fire in her eyes that even exhaustion could not dim.
"Our competitors are eating into our markets because Rossi has grown complacent. We will restructure. Consolidate underperforming factories, reinvest in sustainable textiles, and launch a direct-to-consumer platform. In twelve months, Rossi will not just survive, we will lead."
Gasps rippled across the table. Some board members whispered approval; others exchanged skeptical glances.
"Elena, this is bold," one director said, fingers drumming nervously. "But risky. Too risky."
Before she could answer, the double doors opened, and Dante Moretti strode in as though the room already belonged to him. His presence sucked the air out of the chamber, tall, composed, every step deliberate.
He did not ask permission. He did not need to.
"Expansion," Dante said smoothly, dropping a folder onto the polished table. "Moretti Global is moving into South American markets next quarter. Vertical integration. New distribution hubs. Logistics that Rossi can not match in its current state."
The directors murmured, unsettled. Elena stiffened. "You're announcing this here? To my board?"
Dante's eyes met hers across the table, calm, controlled, unreadable. "Transparency, Elena. Your plan is bold, yes. But some might see it as reckless, if not suicidal, without full awareness of market realities."
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. He was undermining her, making her look naive in front of her own directors. Again.
"Are you finished?" she said coldly.
"Not yet." He leaned closer, voice like velvet over steel. "I do not intend to let Rossi crumble. Not while I'm here."
---
The meeting adjourned in chaos, board members splitting down the middle. Elena stormed into the corridor, her heels striking marble like gunshots.
"Dante!"
He turned, unhurried, as though he had been expecting her.
"You humiliated me in front of my board," she hissed. "You think you can just walk in, wave your empire around, and make me look small? That was calculated."
"Yes," he said simply. "Calculated to keep them from abandoning you when they smell fear."
Her breath caught, fury and confusion warring inside her.
"You..." She shoved at his chest, hard enough that her palm stung. "You cannot play savior and executioner at the same time."
For a moment, his mask cracked. His eyes softened, and when he spoke, his voice was low, almost tender.
"I will not let Rossi fall. Even if you hate me for it."
The words silenced her. Her anger faltered, caught between disbelief and the memory of her father's letters.
She stepped back, heart pounding, unwilling to admit the tremor his confession stirred in her.
---
That evening, Elena attended a networking gala, her plan to rally investors discreetly. The hall glittered with chandeliers, laughter, and champagne, wealth putting on its finest mask.
And then, across the crowd, she saw her.
Alessia Romano.
The years had only sharpened her beauty into something lethal. Draped in crimson silk, Alessia glided through admirers like a queen inspecting her court. Her gaze found Elena, and her smile curved, more knife than warmth.
"Elena Rossi," she purred, approaching with the poise of someone who knew she could destroy with a word. "How long has it been? Since Saint Lucia academy? Or since your company started collapsing?"
Elena's jaw tightened. "Still hiding daggers in your compliments, I see."
Alessia laughed softly, looping her arm through Dante's as he appeared beside her. "I do not need daggers when I have leverage. And friends." She brushed her shoulder against Dante's, possessively. "Some of us know how to keep what matters."
Elena's breath hitched, anger sparking hot in her chest. "You are his fiancee now?"
Alessia's smile widened, sharp and triumphant. "That depends who's asking. The tabloids think so. Perhaps that's enough."
Dante's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing, letting the silence fester.
Elena's pulse roared in her ears. She turned sharply, unwilling to let Alessia see the cracks. But the poison of the encounter lingered long after she left the ballroom, a reminder that this was no longer just about business.
---
Back in her office, Elena came to have a breather and finish some work before retiring for the day. She found Dante instead, waiting, leaning against her desk with maddening ease.
"Get out," she snapped.
Dante stepped forward, close enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne. cedar, smoke, danger.
"You can rage at me all you like," he said softly, "but I will always be here when you need me."
She lifted her chin, masking the storm in her chest. " I keep telling you that I do not need your protection or services."
He leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear, his voice a whisper that seared straight through her defenses.
"Tell me, Elena, do you hate me because you think I will win... or because you are afraid of what happens if I don't?"
Her heart slammed against her ribs, words caught in her throat. She opened her mouth, but no answer came.
And Dante smiled, a predator who knew the kill was near.