Chapter4
1410 Words
Maya didn’t see Dante the next day.
Not in the elevators. Not in the executive meetings she now half-expected to be dragged into. No late-night messages. No rooftop notes.
Only silence.
But something had shifted. People were watching her more now—too closely. She felt it when she passed coworkers in the hallway. The quick hush in conversation. The slightly too-long stares from Jared Valerio, who suddenly appeared on their floor with fake smiles and too many questions.
She didn’t trust it.
And she didn’t trust him.
⸻
Jared Valerio was nothing like his brother.
Where Dante was sharp-edged and controlled, Jared was effortless charm. He had the easy confidence of a man who’d never been told no—and never questioned what he was entitled to.
He stopped her by the elevators Thursday afternoon, flashing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re Maya, right? The new star Dante keeps mentioning.”
She stiffened. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Modest,” he said, stepping closer. Too close. “We don’t get many Wolfe & Wolfe alumni around here. It’s a hard place to leave, unless something went…wrong.”
“I left for personal reasons,” she said, voice steady.
“Of course. Personal. That’s always a good answer.”
His gaze lingered too long on her blouse before finally stepping back.
“If you ever want to talk,” he said, lowering his voice, “about my brother or anything else—I’m a good listener.”
The elevator doors opened.
She stepped inside without a word.
⸻
By the end of the day, she couldn’t shake the tension coiling in her spine.
She stayed late again, half-dreading what she might find in the company’s shared archive. Every time she opened a file, she felt the weight of invisible eyes.
She knew now: Jared suspected her. Maybe not the details, but something.
And that made her dangerous.
⸻
At 8:12 p.m., her office phone buzzed.
A message. Internal. Unmarked.
STOP DIGGING OR YOU’LL REGRET IT.
Her blood ran cold.
No sender. No signature.
Just a threat.
She stared at the screen for a long moment before shutting the laptop and locking it.
It was too late to pretend she wasn’t involved. But maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late to survive it.
⸻
She took a cab home. But she didn’t go straight to her apartment.
Instead, she sat outside in the rain for half an hour, watching the shadows move behind her building.
She waited.
And then she made the call.
⸻
Dante answered on the second ring.
“I thought you said no phones,” she said.
“I said no unnecessary calls.”
“Well, this is necessary.”
His voice dropped. “What happened?”
“Someone’s watching me. Jared confronted me today.”
Pause.
“And tonight someone sent a threat to my office.”
His voice went razor-sharp. “Are you safe?”
“For now.”
“I’m coming.”
“No,” she said quickly. “Not here. Too obvious.”
“Then tell me where.”
⸻
She sent an address. A café near the river, nearly empty this late at night. She sat at the farthest corner, back against the wall, watching the rain streak down the window.
Dante arrived ten minutes later, in a dark coat, his collar up, the hood of his sweatshirt shadowing his face.
When he sat across from her, the warmth of his presence made her breath catch.
She hated how her body still reacted. How even in danger, part of her wanted him close.
He leaned forward, voice low. “Tell me everything.”
She did. The stare-down with Jared. The message. The growing unease. The feeling that this wasn’t just about a contract anymore.
When she finished, Dante’s expression had darkened.
“I told you it wouldn’t be safe.”
“You also said you’d handle it.”
“I am.”
“Then handle your brother before he handles me,” she snapped.
His jaw tensed, and she saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes.
“I will,” he said. “I’ve already started the process of isolating him—financially. But it takes time. And now he’s panicking.”
“Which makes him dangerous.”
Dante’s hand moved across the table. Just a brush of his fingers over hers. Not possessive—grounding.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You already did,” she whispered. “The moment you pulled me into this.”
He nodded, slowly. “You’re right.”
⸻
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Outside, the rain softened. The streetlights shimmered through the foggy glass.
“I need to ask you something,” he said quietly.
She looked up.
“Do you trust me?”
Maya didn’t answer right away.
She thought of Ethan. Of secrets and smiles and being used like a stepping stone. Of watching the man she loved walk away as if she were disposable.
And then she thought of Dante—flawed, ruthless, terrifying in some ways.
But real.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I don’t think you lie to me. And that’s more than most people ever gave me.”
Dante didn’t smile. But something shifted in his expression. Like a wall lowering.
He stood. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
He offered his hand. “Somewhere safer than this.”
⸻
She should have said no.
But her hand slid into his, and she let him lead her out into the night.
They didn’t speak during the drive. He took her to a private apartment—a penthouse in an older building near the river, high above the city noise.
It was sleek, but lived-in. Dark wood, leather, glass. No family photos. No clutter. Just clean, cold elegance.
Dante watched her as she stepped inside.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “But if you do, no one will find you here.”
Maya turned toward the window, rain still streaking the glass.
“I don’t want to go home tonight.”
“You won’t have to.”
She looked back at him. He hadn’t moved. But something in his posture had shifted—like he was letting her decide.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
His voice was low. “Because I trust myself around you more than anyone else right now. And because the moment I saw that message, all I could think was getting you somewhere safe.”
Maya’s heart beat harder.
“I don’t want to just be a problem you solve, Dante.”
“You’re not.”
She stepped closer. “Then what am I?”
He didn’t speak. But the answer was in his eyes.
He stepped toward her, slow, deliberate.
She didn’t stop him.
His hand lifted to her cheek, warm and rough. “I think about you all the time.”
“I shouldn’t let you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
His lips brushed hers—just a taste. A question.
She answered with her mouth, pressing harder, and he pulled her close. This kiss wasn’t frantic like the one on the rooftop. It was deeper. Hungrier.
Their bodies pressed together as he backed her toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss.
Her jacket hit the floor. His hands slid beneath her blouse, unbuttoning her slowly, reverently. She gasped when his mouth found her collarbone, then lower.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin.
“I won’t,” she breathed.
Her hands were on his chest, pulling his shirt up, fingers tracing the scars and muscle beneath. His belt clicked open, and he lifted her easily, laying her onto the cool sheets.
The world outside vanished.
There was only breath, skin, and fire.
⸻
After, she lay in the darkness, his body warm beside hers, heart still racing.
She hadn’t meant to fall into him. Not this fast. Not this deep.
But something had happened tonight.
Something unspoken had cracked wide open.
He was silent beside her, arm draped across her waist, his breath even but not quite asleep.
Maya stared at the ceiling, wondering how long this could last.
The secret was growing.
So was the danger.
And if they weren’t careful—someone would burn.
- Writer
