Seducing the Ice-Cold CEO

Chapter 7

Leah

I turned back to Victor, lowering my voice just slightly as I said, “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised you and Dante know each other. There’s nothing about that anywhere in the media.”

Victor’s eyes twinkled. “We’ve known each other for years now. I’ve watched the boy grow up, in a way. Ever since my family moved abroad, he’s made it a habit to drop in on me from time to time.”

The idea of Dante voluntarily visiting anyone was hard to picture. Especially when he sipped his drink like it was a chore and shot me another of those sideways skeptical looks. But Victor’s smile was warm, almost paternal, and I started to wonder just how many layers Dante had buried under that steely exterior.

“Well,” I said, looking between them, “now I’m even more curious what brings you both together. Motorcycles? Stocks? Or just you dragging Dante so he can have a life outside the office?”

Victor laughed again, deep and full. “Motorcycles, mostly. And a little of everything else. I enjoy keeping in touch with sharp minds, and stubborn ones.”

“I’ll let you figure out which one he thinks you are,” Dante murmured without looking at me.

I smirked. “I think I can guess.”

The conversation between Victor and me flowed easily from there. We talked about financial trends, up-and-coming startups, the rise and fall of speculative investments. It was like speaking to a walking archive of economic history but one more animated than any textbook. He had opinions, stories, old grudges he delivered with charming relish. And he seemed genuinely curious about my take on things, asking follow-ups, nodding with interest. It was flattering.

I could feel Dante watching the whole time. That assessing look never left his face. He didn’t interrupt but he didn’t add much either. But I could tell he was taking mental notes, like he couldn’t decide if I was being genuine or trying to pull something.

Victor and I were laughing over a joke when he suddenly turned to Dante with a glint in his eye.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, eyes twinkling as he patted his pocket. “Got myself a new baby—custom made. Thought you might want to take her for a ride up the mountain while you’re here.”

Dante’s eyes flicked up from his drink. For a moment, something shifted in his expression, just a flicker of interest, but it was like watching sunlight c***k through storm clouds. “It’s here?” he asked.

“In the garage,” Victor said with a satisfied nod. Then, without warning, he fished a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them at Dante who caught them effortlessly, his fingers closing around the metal like he’d been waiting all this time for this exact moment. There was an ease between them that wasn’t visible at first glance, something familiar. It made me want to wedge myself into that familiarity and poke around.

I watched the exchange with mild curiosity, then blurted without thinking, “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

Victor looked at me as if I had just confessed to never tasting chocolate. “Really? Then you’ve missed one of life’s greatest joys, my dear.”

That made me smile. I turned to Dante, my curiosity spiking into something more mischievous. He was already standing up, twirling the keys idly between two fingers. “Can I come with you?”

His eyes narrowed at me. “No.”

“I mean,” I continued brightly, ignoring the rejection, “it’s the least entertainment you can offer me when you dragged me all the way out here.”

His scoff was soft but audible. “You’re the one who was begging for an interview.”

I didn’t flinch or bristle the way he probably expected me to. Instead, I leaned back slightly and gave him a little smirk. “And now I’m begging to come on a ride with you.” I tilted my head. “You’re going to say yes to that too, right?”

For a moment, he stared at me, unreadable. Then he blew out a quiet breath, almost like a surrender. “Fine. Follow me.”

Victor chuckled at me as I stood, and I gave him a small wave before chasing after Dante, whose long strides were already carrying him across the room.

He led me around the building toward the garage, a large building attached to the main structure that looked more like a private showroom than a storage space. As soon as he unlocked the door and flicked on the lights, I stopped in my tracks.

The motorcycles outside had looked expensive and flashy. But the ones inside? They didn’t just look impressive, each one looked like it belonged to a man with far too much wealth and time on his hands.

He tossed a helmet at me without looking back. I caught it awkwardly and stared down at it for a moment. It felt heavier than I expected. A tiny flicker of uncertainty sparked in my chest.

As if sensing it, Dante turned to me with a smirk, already picking up a helmet for himself. “Getting cold feet already?”

I stared down at the glossy black dome in my hands, suddenly aware of my pulse. “Why would I be?”

His mouth tilted, just barely. “You tell me.”

The challenge in his voice stung my pride, which was probably the point. I huffed and pulled the helmet over my head, adjusting the strap with fingers that I absolutely did not allow to shake.

By the time I looked up again, Dante had already wheeled the motorcycle out of the garage and was climbing on. It was gorgeous; sleek and low, with a subtle shimmer to the paint that changed color in the light. He revved the engine once, and the garage vibrated with a deep, throaty growl that made something tighten low in my stomach.

He gestured at me with a flick of his fingers. “Well?”

I marched forward, more determined than ever not to look like a flake. My heart thudded, but I forced my legs to move. I could handle this. I could definitely handle this. As I swung one leg over the bike and settled behind him, I hesitated just a beat before wrapping my arms around his waist. My hands landed lower, trying to play it cool but I was instantly distracted by the solid feel of him beneath his clothes. Hard muscle, no give. Damn. I hadn't expected that.

He didn’t say a word, just revved the engine and took off down the winding path. The wind rushed past my ears, a high-pitched whooshing that muffled everything else. My heart was still racing, but not entirely from fear. The motion was surprisingly smooth, the bike powerful but responsive. It almost felt like we were flying, floating between the trees and sky.

I started to relax. My grip around his waist loosened. The corners of my mouth lifted. This wasn’t so bad. Actually… it was sort of amazing.

And then he sped up. I gasped sharply, a panicked sound I didn’t mean to make. The wind was suddenly a whip against my face even with the helmet on. I tightened my arms around him in instinctive terror, clinging to him like my life depended on it, which, unfortunately, it might.

The bike veered into a turn, and I let out another involuntary squeak, burying my face against his back. He was punishing me. I was sure of it. For the flirting, for inviting myself, for challenging him with a smile and a dare.

I heard something light and fleeting, carried by the wind. No. He couldn’t be…

Was he laughing at me? We sped up again. I swore under my breath and flattened myself against him, every nerve on edge. All ideas I’d had of playing it cool and gently seducing him with flirtatious banter and confidence were gone.

“You absolute jerk,” I muttered into the back of his jacket, though I doubted he could hear me over the engine and the wind.