Beautifully dangerous

The Dangerous Distraction

Dante's POV

Sleep had abandoned me.

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, one hand tucked into my pocket while the other held a glass of whiskey. Below, the city glittered with life—cars moving through the streets, people laughing in restaurants, strangers walking home, completely unaware that i ruled every corner they crossed

Usually, the city calmed me.

Tonight, it only reminded me of her.

Ivy Carter.

The name echoed in my mind like an unwanted melody.

I took another sip of whiskey.

It tasted bitter.

Or perhaps that bitterness belonged to me.

I had negotiated billion-dollar deals without blinking.

Ordered executions without losing sleep.

Buried enemies and forgotten their names before sunrise.

Yet somehow…

A five-foot-two delivery girl had become the only thing occupying my mind.

Ridiculous.

I closed my eyes hoping to silence my thoughts.

Instead, I saw her sitting across from me at dinner.

She had barely touched the expensive meal.

Not because she disliked it.

Because she felt guilty eating while her sister lay in a hospital bed.

Every few minutes,she'd whispered, "Thank you," to the servants who placed dishes in front of her.

No one thanked servants anymore.

People ordered them around.

Ignored them.

Treated them as invisible.

But Ivy…

She looked each of them in the eye.

She smiled.

A genuine smile.

Not because she wanted something.

Simply because kindness came naturally to her.

When had I started noticing things like that?

I scoffed at myself.

Beautiful women had surrounded me my entire life.

Models.

Actresses.

Socialites.

Women who wore expensive perfume and practiced perfect smiles, hoping to earn my attention.

None of them had ever held it.

Beauty had never impressed me.

Beauty faded.

Beauty lied.

Beauty betrayed.

So why…

Why couldn't I stop thinking about a girl with pale skin, fiery red hair, and eyes that revealed every emotion she tried to hide?

Her beauty wasn't polished.

It wasn't designed to seduce.

It was… effortless.

Dangerously effortless.

She blushed when I looked at her.

She argued with me even while terrified.

She stood between her fear and her love for her sister without hesitation.

That kind of devotion was rare.

And rare things…

Always caught my attention.

I hated that.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in."

Marci stepped inside carrying a thick stack of files.

"The reports from the eastern warehouses, Boss."

He placed them on my desk.

I sat down and opened the first file.

Numbers.

Shipments.

Investments.

Words blurred together.

I reached the bottom of the page.

Turned it over.

Read it again.

Only then did Marco clear his throat.

"You've read the same page three times."

I looked up.

"What?"

"The numbers."

"You've been staring at them for nearly ten minutes.

I closed the folder.

"What do you want, Marco?"

He hesitated.

"The men are talking."

"They're always talking."

"This time they're talking about Miss Carter."

Silence settled between us.

"What about her?"

"They've noticed you've assigned four guards to watch her."

"She requires protection."

Marco nodded.

"I know."

"But usually witnesses disappear."

I leaned back in my chair.

"She isn't a witness anymore."

"No?"

"No."

"Then what is she?"

"She's under my protection."

Marco studied me carefully.

"You've never personally protected anyone before."

"I don't intend to start now."

He didn't look convinced.

Instead, he pulled another folder from the pile.

"We've contacted hospitals in three different countries regarding her sister."

"Expand the search."

"Already done."

"I don't care what it costs."

Marco's eyebrows lifted.

"Every surgeon."

Every specialist."

Every private clinic."

"If there's a compatible donor anywhere in the world…"

My voice hardened.

"…I want to know."

Marco nodded slowly.

"Understood."

He remained standing.

"You have something else to say."

He sighed.

"One of the younger guards helped Miss Carter carry her suitcase this morning."

I waited.

"He smiled at her."

My fingers tightened around the whiskey glass.

"What was his name?"

"Daniel."

"Transfer him."

Marco blinked.

"… transfer him?"

"To the docks."

"Effective immediately."

"The docks?"

"He starts tomorrow."

Marco frowned.

"Boss…"

"He only carried her luggage."

"He smiled at her."

The room fell silent.

Finally, Marco asked the question no one else would have dared.

"…are you jealous?"

A cold laugh escaped me.

"Jealous ?"

"I don't get jealous."

"I remove distractions."

Marco lowered his head.

"As you wish."

He left without another word.

The office became silent again.

I looked down at my untouched paperwork.

Jealous?

The word irritated me.

I wasn't jealous.

I was simply protecting what belonged to me.

Nothing more.

At least…

That's what I told myself.

Later in the afternoon, I walked past the library and glanced through the tall windows overlooking the gardens.

There she was.

Ivy.

She wasn't inside.

She was kneeling in the grass.

Her red hair glowed beneath the afternoon sun like a living flame.

One of the gardeners stood beside her.

Curious, I stepped closer.

An injured bird lay in her hands.

Its tiny wing hung awkwardly at its side.

She cradled it with unbelievable care.

"Oh you poor thing," she whispered.

"Don't worry."

"We'll help you."

She removed her handkerchief and gently wrapped the bird before handing it to the gardener.

"Can you call someone who knows how to care for it?"

The gardener smiled.

"I will, Miss Carter."

She smiled back.

Bright.

Warm.

Completely unaware that someone was watching her.

She had spent the morning crying over her sister.

Yet somehow…

She still had enough kindness left to care for a wounded bird.

I frowned.

She didn't belong in my world.

This house was built on blood.

Fear.

Violence.

Yet she walked through it carrying compassion wherever she went.

Like light trying to exist inside darkness.

She fascinated me.

More than she should.

More than anyone ever had.