CHAPTER 4
1894 Words
Dario's POV
The night had been like every other night.
And that was the problem.
The same men in tailored suits, gripping each other’s hands in fake camaraderie while plotting their next betrayal. The same women, elegantly draped in wealth, whispering secrets behind smiles too polished to be real.
It was a game. A cycle. A perfectly controlled illusion.
And I had grown bored of it.
I had walked into The Haven Hotel’s ballroom expecting nothing but another night of playing my role—calculating, untouchable, the man who never let his guard down.
But then, I saw her.
Standing near the the far end of the ballroom, her long fingers wrapped around a champagne glass she didn’t plan to drink, was a woman who didn’t belong.
And yet, she stood as if she did.
That was the first thing that caught my attention.
I watched her closely as she moved, through the crowd like she had been here many times, but still… not really.
Like an illusion.
A woman built of contradictions.
She wasn’t the fanciest dressed in the room, but somehow, she was the only one I couldn’t stop watching. Maybe it was how she carried herself with confidence like it was armor. A careful act, designed to let her blend in.
Most wouldn’t see it. But I did.
I traced my eyes down her body, down the black dress that clung to curves that weren’t meant to be ignored, accentuating a body made for sin.
And oh boy, did she make me want to sin.
Her wavy chestnut-brown hair flowed down her back easily—like she hadn’t spent a lot of time on it, but it looked perfect anyway.
But it wasn’t just her body that drew me in.
It was her stillness.
In a room full of movement—whispers, deals, seduction—she was the calm in the storm.
Controlled. Composed.
Yet there was something behind her eyes.
Hunger.
Not the kind these women had—the kind that sought power through proximity to men like me. No, her hunger was different.
It was hidden. Buried beneath layers of restraint.
I had seen that look before.
On men who had nothing to lose.
And for the first time that night, I felt something close to curiosity.
I didn’t approach her. Not yet.
Instead, I observed from the sidelines.
I watched how she navigated the crowd, never staying too long, never attracting too much notice. Like a ghost among a crowd of hunters.
And then, Matteo stopped her.
I tilted my head a bit when I saw the hint of tension in her stance. It was not fear.
No, she wasn’t scared.
She was calculating.
Deciding her next move before she even took a breath.
I smiled slightly. This was interesting.
Before I could even stop myself, I moved instinctively, gliding through the crowd with a skill that developed after years of knowing how to command a room.
Matteo noticed me first as I came to a stop beside them, and his expression changed right away.
"Matteo, is there a problem?" My tone was calm, casual, but the message beneath it was clear.
Step back. This one is mine.
I didn’t need to say it out loud for him to follow my command.
Smart man.
And that was when she turned to face me.
And my entire goddamn world tilted.
I had seen beautiful women before. I had f****d beautiful women before.
But this was different.
She was stunning in the kind of way that made a man forget himself.
Not soft. Not delicate.
But striking. Like a knife’s blade glinting in the light just before it strikes.
Her cheekbones were defined, her lips were full, and her eyes—Jesus Christ, her eyes.
Her deep green eyes were strong and focused as she looked at me like she wanted to see into my soul.
As if she wasn’t just looking at me—
She was reading me.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know whether I wanted to walk away or f*****g devour her whole.
"You’re new," I said, my voice lower than I intended.
She didn’t flinch.
"And you keep track of every woman who attends these events?" She threw back at me, her brow arched.
A slow smirk tugged at my lips.
She was sharp. Unafraid. But careful.
She wanted me to think she was indifferent.
But her eyes gave her away.
She was curious.
About me.
And that?
That was a dangerous f*****g thing.
My lips curved slightly. "Only the ones who don’t belong."
Who did she belong to?
Most women in this world belonged to someone. A husband. A family. A name that held weight.
But somehow, the thought of her already belonging to someone sent a bad taste down my throat.
Her lips parted slightly before pressing into a firm line. “I was invited."
I should have let it go then, should have turned my back and walked away from this seductive woman who was turning me on much more than I cared to admit.
But something about that answer—about her—settled into my chest like a slow burn.
She was lying. And I wanted to find out why.
"By whom?"
Her lips formed a smile that was almost playful. "And what if I said it was someone more important than you?"
Matteo made a noise—half scoff, half warning— and I just smiled.
"I think you’re lying,” I said to her without mincing words.
She moved a bit closer, closing the gap between us. “Maybe I don’t want to give away my secrets so easily,” she said gently, playfully biting her lower lip."
My c**k twitched in my pants, my eyes zooming into that tiny action. Oh, she definitely was playing with fire.
"That’s too bad,” I said casually, reached into my pocket, slipping out a card which I handed to her.
"Tomorrow. Seven o’clock. The St. Regis Hotel."
I wasn't one of those men who f****d nearly everything in sight. My tastes were...refined, and my s****l partners carefully selected. But something about her this woman drew me in.
Made me want to strip her bare and sink my c**k into her wetness, until I was lodged in to the hilt.
It was reckless. And recklessness was something I associated myself withn
"What makes you think I’ll show up?" She asked, tilting her head.
I let my gaze dip, pausing on the appealing curve of her chest before moving to her lips—soft and inviting—then finally meeting her eyes with a knowing snirk.
"Because I’m interested now.”
*****
By the time I left the event after making sure I greeted my father, my mind should have been elsewhere.
Deals. Money. Power plays.
Instead, all I could think about was the way her lips had parted slightly when I had stepped close.
The way she had looked at me.
Like I was something dangerous.
Like she wanted that danger.
I breathed out, pushing the thoughts away as I got into the back of my car.
I had more important matters to handle tonight.
****
The air in the basement was moist, heavy with the smell of blood and strong chemicals. A sharp contrast to the opulence above, where people in fancy suits clinked glasses and smiled deceitfully.
Down here, the truth was stripped bare.
The man before me was barely holding himself upright. His once-imposing presence had withered under the weight of agony, his head lolling forward, chin smeared with sweat and crimson. His hands, bound to the chair with industrial-grade zip ties, twitched involuntarily.
Pathetic.
Adrian was to my left, sleeves rolled up, his face hard to read. He didn’t feel sentimental about his work—he knew it was necessary, but he never enjoyed it. Unlike me.
I wasn’t doing this because I enjoyed it.
I was doing it because it was deserved.
I bent down in front of the traitor, holding his chin with my fingers and making him look into my eyes. His right eye was almost closed, his bottom lip cut so deeply it was hard to see where the cut ended and the dried blood started.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t discover this?” I said softly, my voice strangely calm.
His breath hitched. A ragged, pitiful sound. “D-Dario… please…”
I sighed. Predictable.
A plea for mercy.
As if men like me granted it.
I let go of his face, allowing his head to fall forward in tired defeat. My fingers lightly drummed on the hilt of the knife resting on the metal table beside me. The steel shone under the dim, flickering light, waiting.
“You stole from me,” I said, tilting my head slightly, watching him tremble. “You sold information about my shipments to Santiago in exchange for what? A little cash? A false promise that he’d protect you?”
His lips parted, a tremor running through his battered body. “I—I didn’t—”
The knife was in my hand before he could finish the lie.
I pressed the tip just beneath his eye, applying the slightest pressure.
He was breathing in quick, scared gasps. His entire body went rigid, muscles locking in terror.
“You’re going to die here,” I said gently. “At least be honest.”
A tear fell down his swollen cheek, his body giving away his feelings before he could speak.
I pulled the knife down slowly, cutting through his skin with skill. A neat, shallow cut on his cheekbone. Deep enough to hurt. Deep enough to make him scream.
A harsh sound came from his throat, hoarse and choked. He struggled against the ties, but the chair kept him secure, making him stay still.
I cleaned the blade on his torn shirt and leaned back, watching him try to hold back the sobs shaking his broken body.
Pathetic.
“This could have been prevented,” I thought aloud, standing tall. “But you were greedy. Stupid.”
His good eye blinked rapidly, unfocused. Blood dripped from his chin, painting his dress shirt in crimson streaks.
I turned to Adrian, my voice cool. “Finish him.”
Adrian took out his gun quickly, loading it with a practiced move.
The traitor hardly realized what was happening before the silencer quieted the loud sound of a bullet hitting his head.
His body slumped, lifeless, blood pooling beneath him.
A fitting end.
I turned away, already done with the matter. The mess would be cleaned. The example had been made.
There were more pressing matters now.
I reached for the inside pocket of my jacket and pulled out a small, black business card. The same one I had handed to Lia—I had asked Matteo of name right before I left.
Something about her wasn’t right.
A woman like that—an illusion wrapped in silk and secrets—did not simply walk into my world by chance.
I handed the card to Adrian. “Find everything you can on her.”
Adrian arched a brow but didn’t question me. “The girl from the party?”
I nodded.
Something was off.
And I intended to find out exactly what it was.
- Writer
