The confrontation Aria had been steeling herself for came sooner than expected. Dawn light filtered through the penthouse windows as she stood in Dante’s private office, the revised Project Pawn documents spread across his massive mahogany desk. Her hands no longer trembled. The queen, who had once cried signing a contract, now faced the devil who had bought her with steady hazel eyes and a heart full of fire and heartbreak.
Dante entered the room like a storm contained in human form—tall, powerful, his dark wavy hair slightly tousled from sleep, gray eyes sharpening the moment he saw the papers. He closed the door behind him with deliberate calm, but the tension in his broad shoulders betrayed him.
“Aria,” he said, voice low and commanding. “What is this?”
She didn’t flinch. “The truth
