EPISODE 13: BREAKFAST WITH MONSTERS
1248 Words
Diana barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Dante standing in the darkness of that study, the gun pressed against her head while his voice whispered against her skin.
"Why is my name in a folder signed by the man who raised you?"
The question refused to leave her mind.
At exactly 8:45 AM, she stood in front of the mirror adjusting her glasses. Today, she chose a cream-colored blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt. Professional. Simple. Forgettable.
That was the goal.
Forgettable.
Not the Blood Goddess.
Not the assassin who escaped execution.
Just Diana Willson, the secretary.
She inhaled slowly before opening her bedroom door.
The mansion was unusually quiet this morning.
Most of the staff moved around like ghosts, keeping their heads down as they polished marble floors or carried silver trays through the endless hallways. Nobody spoke loudly in the Dragon’s Den. It was the kind of silence built from fear and habit.
As Diana walked downstairs, she noticed something strange.
The maids were avoiding her.
Not rudely.
Carefully.
One young maid nearly dropped a tray after accidentally making eye contact with her.
Diana frowned slightly.
What now?
Before she could think further, Marcus appeared beside her like a shadow.
“You’re late.”
Diana glanced at the grandfather clock.
“It’s 8:52.”
“You should already be in his office.”
His expression remained cold as stone. Marcus always looked like he expected betrayal from everyone around him.
Especially her.
He handed her a thin black tablet.
“Today’s schedule,” he said shortly. “And one more thing…”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“The west wing is permanently restricted now.”
Diana’s fingers tightened around the tablet.
So Dante had changed security after last night.
Interesting.
“Understood,” she answered calmly.
Marcus studied her face for several long seconds, almost like he was waiting for her mask to crack.
“You know,” he finally said, “people who make Dante curious usually don’t live very long.”
Then he walked away.
Diana watched his retreating figure with narrowed eyes.
Marcus wasn't stupid.
That made him dangerous.
—
When she entered Dante’s office, she immediately noticed the difference.
The blue folder was gone.
Completely gone.
The desk looked perfectly organized, almost aggressively clean, as if no secrets had ever existed there.
Dante sat by the window with a cup of black coffee in one hand while reading documents. Morning sunlight spilled across his tattoos, revealing dark ink curling around his forearms like serpents.
He didn’t look up when she entered.
“You’re breathing too loudly.”
Diana blinked once.
“…Good morning to you too, sir.”
A faint smirk touched his lips.
Progress.
“Schedule?” he asked.
She stepped closer and began listing his meetings professionally.
“10 AM shipment review with the harbor division. Noon lunch meeting with the investors from District Four. At three, you have a call with—”
“Cancel lunch.”
Diana stopped.
“The investors flew in from France specifically to meet you.”
“I don’t care if they flew in from the moon.”
He finally looked at her.
“We’re having breakfast instead.”
Her brain paused for exactly one second.
“…We?”
“Yes. Try to keep up, Diana.”
He stood smoothly and buttoned his suit jacket.
“You’ll accompany me.”
“That doesn’t sound necessary for scheduling purposes.”
“Neither was breaking into my study,” he replied calmly.
Silence.
Diana forced herself not to react.
Dante walked past her, stopping just beside her shoulder.
“You look nervous again,” he murmured.
“I’m wondering if this breakfast ends with another gun to my head.”
His eyes flickered with amusement.
“That depends on your behavior.”
Then he continued walking.
Diana stared at his back in disbelief before following after him.
—
The breakfast room overlooked the eastern gardens.
Rain tapped softly against the tall windows while staff moved quietly around the massive dining table. The setup looked elegant enough for royalty.
But the atmosphere felt… strange.
Because Dante was cooking.
Diana stopped in the doorway.
The feared Dark Dragon stood near the stove in a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, calmly frying eggs while one terrified chef watched from the corner.
“You cook?” she blurted before she could stop herself.
Dante glanced over his shoulder.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m shocked your kitchen survived.”
The chef suddenly looked horrified, like Diana had just insulted God himself.
But to her surprise—
Dante laughed.
Not the dark, dangerous chuckle she usually heard.
An actual laugh.
Low.
Brief.
Real.
The sound caught her completely off guard.
“You’re smarter before coffee,” he said.
Diana slowly sat down at the table, studying him carefully.
This was new.
No guns.
No threats.
No mafia meetings.
Just… breakfast.
And somehow that unsettled her more than violence ever had.
A maid approached Diana nervously with tea.
Her hands shook badly enough that tea spilled onto the saucer.
“I-I’m sorry, Miss Diana—”
Before the girl could panic further, Dante spoke without turning around.
“Relax, Emily. Nobody’s dying over tea this morning.”
The maid looked stunned.
“So… so sorry, Boss.”
She hurried away quickly.
Diana watched the interaction closely.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The rumors described Dante as cruel.
Merciless.
A monster.
Yet the staff seemed afraid of disappointing him more than being harmed by him.
That wasn’t the same thing.
Dante placed a plate in front of her.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
“Same thing.”
He sat across from her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Rain continued tapping softly against the windows.
Diana realized this was probably the first peaceful moment she’d had in years.
And that terrified her.
Because peace made people weak.
“You hate mushrooms,” Dante suddenly said.
Diana looked down at her untouched food.
“I never said that.”
“You moved them to the side first.”
He took a sip of coffee.
“You also read contracts faster when annoyed and tap your fingers when you lie.”
Diana slowly looked up at him.
Dante met her gaze evenly.
“I notice things,” he said simply.
A chill ran through her spine.
This man was dangerous in ways bullets couldn't explain.
“You’ve been studying me,” she said quietly.
“I study everyone.”
“No,” Diana replied. “Not like this.”
For the first time since she met him—
Dante went silent.
Not cold.
Not angry.
Just… silent.
Like she had accidentally touched something private.
Then the moment shattered when Marcus entered the room abruptly.
“Boss.”
His expression was grim.
“There’s a situation at the docks.”
Dante’s face immediately hardened.
“What kind of situation?”
Marcus glanced briefly at Diana before answering carefully.
“One of our shipments disappeared overnight.”
Dante leaned back slowly.
“And?”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“There was an owl feather left inside the empty container.”
The Night Owl Organisation.
Diana’s stomach dropped.
Dante looked toward the rain-covered windows, his expression unreadable.
Then finally—
He smiled.
But this time, it wasn’t warm at all.
“Interesting,” he murmured softly.
Very softly.
Too softly.
“Looks like someone wants my attention.”
..
TBC..
- Writer
