Seducing the Ice-Cold CEO

Chapter 14

Dante

A polite knock came at the door, followed by the familiar creak of it opening before I gave permission.

“Sir, it’s seven.” Hensley’s calm voice drifted in, just above a whisper. “You have dinner with your sister.”

I looked up from my screen, blinking as the numbers and lines of text finally came back into focus. The document I’d been reviewing faded from my interest as reality took over. Right. Dinner.

I leaned back, my brows furrowing slightly as I minimized the window and closed my laptop with a quiet click. If there had been a reasonable way to get out of it, I would have taken it. Unfortunately, Alina had made sure of that this morning.

She’d called just after nine, bright and chipper, practically chirping through the phone that she was “making dinner herself” and that Ivy had helped plan the entire menu. I didn’t know which part was worse—Alina cooking, or Ivy making anything “special” for my sake. But then she had used her usual technique, the guilt trip.

“This is just a thank you dinner, Dante,” she’d said sweetly. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for Ivy’s internship, but you did. Please? Just come for me.”

And I, like an i***t, had said yes. Of course, now it was time to pay the price.

“Thank you, Hensley,” I muttered, pushing back from my desk. “You’re a lifesaver.”

He gave me a crisp nod before stepping aside. I stood, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair, trying not to scowl. The last thing I wanted was to spend the evening being glared at by Ivy, momentarily demoted from ‘favorite uncle’ to ‘enabler of corporate doom’. I had no doubt she was still upset that I had followed through on my promise to Alina to get her an internship. I couldn’t blame her completely—I had always been on her team and helped fend off Alina whenever she was coming on too strong.

But Ivy wasn’t a naive teenager anymore, and it was time she saw that. I shrugged on my jacket and stepped out of the office.

Hensley followed, carrying my briefcase, not that I’d need it. He didn’t say anything as we walked down the hallway toward the elevator, he never did unless it was necessary. He was my shadow, only a dozen times more efficient.

When we reached the car, he placed the briefcase in the car without a word.

“You can head home, Hensley,” I said as I slid into the backseat. “Thank you.”

He bowed slightly. “Have a pleasant evening, sir.”

I offered a vague smile, then gave the driver the address. “Take me to the family manor. The old one.”

He nodded and pulled away from the curb. As the city lights blurred past the windows, I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment. I hadn’t lived in the manor in years. It belonged to another life, one where responsibility hadn’t yet claimed every corner of my time. But I still visited from time to time, mostly for Alina. And each time I did, I found that I remembered more than I’d expected. Some memories were harder to let go of than others.

We pulled up to the gates just before eight. The manor loomed in the distance, its familiar architecture illuminated by warm golden light from the windows. The car rolled up to the front steps and stopped. The butler was already waiting by the door, his expression polite and welcoming.

“Good evening, sir,” he greeted with a bow, opening the door for me. “The madam and miss are already seated.”

I stepped out, nodding my thanks. “Thank you,” I said to him, smoothing out my jacket. Then I walked up the steps and into the house, and was welcomed by the scent of jasmine immediately, Alina’s signature scent. I walked into the dining room with the ease of someone who knew the layout by heart. The scent of roasted chicken wafted through the space, and sure enough, Alina and Ivy were already seated at the long mahogany table, which had been set with a surprising level of detail, no doubt Alina’s touch.

Alina looked up and beamed the moment she saw me. “Dante!” she exclaimed, rising slightly in her seat to wave me over, as if I might’ve forgotten where to sit.

I offered a smile, small but sincere. “Evening.”

Ivy smiled too, though hers didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was a stiffness there. Was it annoyance or discomfort? It was hard to say. Either way, it made her expression falter just enough for me to catch it. I gave her a nod in return, then pulled out the chair beside Alina and sat down.

“Glad you could make it,” Alina said, already filling my plate as though I were still fifteen. “I was just telling Ivy how you used to complain whenever I cooked, and now look at you, begging for a seat at my table.”

“I didn’t beg,” I replied dryly, picking up my fork. “You emotionally blackmailed me.”

She gave a theatrical gasp. “How dare you! I was being grateful.”

“Mm,” I said, already reaching for my napkin. “Speaking of gratitude, have you finally settled on that album concept?”

Alina lit up instantly, her fingers drumming excitedly against the table at this chance to talk about her plans for a special album she had coming up. “I think I have! I’m leaning toward something with a little mystery, maybe drawing on German folklore? Something eerie but poetic. I want the visuals to be stark, romantic...”

As she continued, I listened with half my focus, nodding occasionally as she described half-finished ideas with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew they’d land on their feet, no matter how complicated the journey. My other half, though, was on Ivy.

She was oddly quiet. If this were any other evening, she would’ve already interrupted Alina twice with unsolicited commentary or jokes that didn’t quite land. But now, she merely sat picking at her food, her smile just as stiff as her posture. Something was bothering her, and while part of me was tempted to brush it off as another one of her dramatic spells, especially in the light of this internship,it could also be something that might run deeper.

I caught Alina following my gaze. She looked at Ivy, then at me, and gave a shrug, one I’d seen more times than I could count. The universal I tried but she wouldn’t talk gesture. I gave her a look of my own, one that said, try again now that I’m here.

Alina leaned in slightly toward Ivy, turning her light note on her. “So, how was your first day at work, darling?”

Ivy didn’t immediately respond. She stabbed a small piece of chicken with a little too much force, then said flatly, “It was beyond boring.”

“Boring?” Alina blinked, surprised.

Ivy gave a tired sigh. “My supervisor doesn’t like me.”

Alina frowned. “Oh, come on. How would you know that? It’s only been a day.”

“If you’d been there,” Ivy replied, stabbing at her food again, “you would’ve seen how Leah looked at me when I didn’t know how to do something simple.” She said it bitterly.

My brow rose slightly as I heard Leah’s name, though I kept my expression mostly neutral. That was unexpected. What were the chances she’d been assigned to Leah Sparrow, of all people? That was... amusing.

“Sweetheart, it’s normal not to know everything on your first day,” Alina was saying, her tone edging into maternal concern. “You’ll learn as you go.”

“I highly doubt that,” Ivy snapped, finally cutting into the chicken. “Ms. Perfect Leah Sparrow didn’t even want to teach me.”

I blinked. I slowly flipped my phone over on the table and shifted my gaze to Ivy. She was fully immersed in her irritation now, chewing aggressively as if her rage would somehow be calmed when the chicken was obliterated. Alina looked caught between sympathy and confusion, trying to figure out how to manage her daughter’s flaring temper without adding fuel to it.

I, on the other hand, found it mildly entertaining.

Of all the people Ivy could clash with, it had to be Leah. Maybe she had finally met her match, someone she couldn’t charm, or intimidate with her usual theatrics. It seemed I couldn’t escape Leah even when she wasn’t physically present, if she was now showing up in conversations where I least expected her. The image of Leah glaring down her nose at Ivy in a newsroom full of chaos played in my mind and, God help me, I found it funny.

I picked up my napkin and wiped the corner of my mouth slowly, masking the small smirk that tugged at the corner of my mouth.