The room was silent.
Only the soft ticking of a clock filled the space between them.
Alina stood by the door, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, while the man behind the desk studied her like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
Up close, Dario Romano was nothing like she expected.
He wasn't loud or angry. He didn't shout or threaten.
He simply looked — calm, composed, and far too controlled for someone who ruled an empire built on fear.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair.
"You have your father's eyes," he said quietly. "And his recklessness."
Alina frowned. "I didn't come here for insults."
That earned her a faint, amused smirk. "Brave. I like that."
"I came," she continued, "because you sent men to my home. Because you said my father owed you."
Her voice trembled but didn't break. "He's gone. There's nothing left for you to take."
Dario rose from his seat. His presence filled the room instantly — tall, broad-shouldered, his suit fitting him too perfectly for comfort.
He walked toward her slowly, every step echoing against the marble floor.
"I'm not interested in taking what's gone," he said. "I'm interested in what remains."
Her heartbeat spiked. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
He stopped just a few feet away. "Your father borrowed two million dollars from me. He promised to repay it within a year. He didn't. Instead, he ran, and when he ran, I lost men — good men — trying to clean up his mistakes."
She shook her head, tears welling up. "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know about any of this."
"I believe you."
His tone softened, just a little. "Which is why I'm giving you a choice."
Alina blinked, confused. "A choice?"
"You work for me," Dario said, "in my home. Until the debt is cleared."
Her mouth fell open. "Work for you? Doing what?"
"Anything I require," he said simply. "My household has needs. My life has… routines. You'll adapt to them."
"That sounds like a prison," she whispered.
He met her eyes. "No, Miss Hart. A prison is where I could have sent your father while he was still breathing