Kiss of the Contract

(Dual POV — Aria & Dario) (Aria) Rain. Cold, relentless, cleansing. It coats the glass scope of my rifle, blurring the outline of the man I’m supposed to meet. Not kill. Meet. That’s new. He stands on his balcony like a king waiting for execution. No umbrella. No flinch when thunder cracks. Just a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling around him like sin. Dario Moretti. The name alone can silence rooms. I’ve heard it whispered in places where blood buys loyalty and mercy is a foreign language. And yet, he’s looking up. At me. Impossible. My breath stutters. Just once. Then I reset the rifle, even though I don’t intend to fire. Men like him don’t notice women like me—not unless I’m the last face they see before dying. But the way he stares into the storm… it’s not curiosity. It’s recognition. I hate that my pulse reacts. I hate that I feel seen. “Focus, Vale,” I whisper. “You’re not here for him. You’re here for the deal.” Still, I linger for half a second longer than I should before slipping into the shadows. The Moretti estate smells like money and blood. Gilded halls, velvet drapes, too many eyes pretending not to see me. His men lead me to a room that feels more like a throne than an office. And there he is. Up close, he’s worse. Tall, tailored, sin wrapped in control. Dark hair slicked back, sleeves rolled to reveal veins that shouldn’t be this distracting. He doesn’t look up right away. He lets me watch him first. A power move. I recognize it because I use it too. “You’re earlier than I expected,” he says finally, voice smooth, low, the kind that feels like a hand dragging over skin. “You’re paying for efficiency,” I answer. His gaze lifts, and God help me—it hits like a bullet. “Efficient,” he repeats slowly. “And beautiful. A rare combination.” “I wasn’t hired to decorate your office.” He smiles. “Shame.” He slides a folder across the desk. “You’ll find everything you need there. Names. Locations. How they’ve betrayed me.” I flip it open. Faces. Men. Women. Some look terrified. Some look smug. All of them soon to be dead. “You want them gone,” I say flatly. “Quietly,” he corrects. “I don’t need noise. I need loyalty.” I meet his gaze again. “You’re asking me to kill your own people.” He leans back, lazy, confident. “If they were mine, I wouldn’t need you.” I should walk away. I don’t do internal cleanups. Too personal. Too messy. But something about the way he watches me—like he’s already stripped me down to the bones—holds me there. “I’ll need full access,” I say. “You’ll have it,” he replies. “But understand this—if you betray me, I’ll know. And I’ll end you.” “Try it,” I say before I can stop myself. His grin sharpens. “Ah. There she is.” “What?” “The woman they warned me about.” He stands, and the space between us shrinks until I can smell his cologne—dark, expensive, addictive. “The one who doesn’t flinch. The one who doesn’t feel.” His hand brushes the folder, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, assassina mia… what do you feel right now?” My heart beats once. Hard. “Nothing,” I lie. “Liar,” he says, soft, certain. I walk out before he can see the truth in my eyes. (Dario) She moves like sin in leather. Cold eyes. Steady hands. A woman carved for violence—and yet, there’s something fragile in the way she holds her breath when she thinks I’m not looking. Aria Vale. My last resort. My biggest mistake. The moment she entered the room, I knew she’d be the kind of danger I couldn’t control. Not with money. Not with threats. And control is all I’ve ever had. She’s trying to keep her distance, but her pulse gives her away. I saw it flutter when I stepped close. Saw the way her throat tightened when I called her assassina mia. She wants to believe she’s untouchable. Good. So do I. Because if I touch her, I won’t stop. I watched the door close behind her and smiled to myself. The woman who kills for a living just took my contract. And she doesn’t even realize— I’m the one planning to destroy her first.