DARK PETALS

Chapter 4

Pluvia's pov :

The restaurant was elegant, private-the kind of place that ensured conversations remained unheard, secrets kept safe behind dim lighting and velvet booths.

When I walked in, he was already there.

Victor Russo sat at the far end of the room, relaxed yet completely in control, as if the entire world revolved around his existence. The dim lighting cast sharp shadows along his chiseled jawline, emphasizing the power he carried so effortlessly.

Steel-grey eyes locked onto me the second I entered. He didn't blink, didn't shift his gaze. His dark eyes unsettled me-cold and sharp, like a blade tracing down my spine, leaving a chill I couldn't shake. But I didn't let the feeling show.

I understood now why people spoke his name with both respect and fear.

I ignored the slight hitch in my breath and forced myself forward, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

He rose when I reached the table, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but I noted it.

"Mr. Russo," I greeted smoothly, meeting his unreadable stare.

"Miss Rossi." His voice was deep, yet cold.

His deep voice gave me a shiver, a feeling that I couldn't quite place but couldn't shake off either. I sat across from him, crossing my legs with practiced ease. He followed suit, leaning back slightly, his fingers steepling together. His presence was overwhelming, but I refused to be moved by it.

The waiter appeared almost instantly, placing a bottle of red wine between us. I hadn't ordered it.

Victor's lips curved slightly. "I took the liberty of selecting a bottle. Italian. You might enjoy it."

A test.

I tilted my head. "You assume I drink during business meetings?"

His smirk deepened. "I assume you enjoy good things when they're offered."

I didn't respond. The air between us was charged, a silent battle playing out before a single word of business had been spoken.

His presence was overwhelming-commanding, suffocating. Every movement was deliberate, calculated. His steel-gray eyes bore into me with unsettling intensity, as if he was already dissecting my thoughts.

But I didn't look away.

"If this is about a collaboration," I said, breaking the silence, "then let's keep this professional."

His lips twitched slightly. "Of course."

The conversation began, but something in his gaze never wavered. A quiet possession. An intent I couldn't quite place.

Victor's POV :

When I finally saw her, I understood something immediately.

No photograph, no report, nothing could have prepared me for the force that was Pluviana Rossi.

The restaurant was dimly lit, private. She had finally agreed to the meeting. But I was already seated when she arrived.

And when she walked in, the world narrowed.

She is stunning in an understated way, with sharp poise and an expression that spoke of quiet authority. Her wavy dark brown hair framed her face, her rich brown eyes scanning the room with cool detachment. There was a confidence in her stride, a certainty in the way she carried herself.

Mine.

The thought came unbidden. Unfamiliar. But I didn't reject it.

She approached the table, and for the first time in years, I felt something other than control.

She sat down across from me, crossing her legs with effortless grace.

"Mr. Russo," she said, voice smooth, cold, unreadable.

I leaned forward slightly. "Miss Rossi."

Our gazes locked, the silence stretching.

She wasn't intimidated. She wasn't impressed.

I had never wanted anything more.

She was unlike anyone I had ever encountered.

When I spoke, she listened-not with the eager anticipation of someone desperate for my attention, but with calculated patience, waiting to dissect every word I said.

She had denied my initial request, set the terms to her liking, and now sat across from me with the air of someone who wasn't particularly impressed.

It was maddeningly attractive.

I studied her as she took a slow sip of wine. Her dark brown hair framed her face, catching the candlelight, her rich brown eyes impossible to look away from.

She set the glass down. "If you want something from me, Mr. Russo, you'll have to be direct."

Direct.

I could do that.

"I want to collaborate with Rosanera Technologies," I said, watching her reaction carefully. "Aviation is evolving, and your company is leading innovation in AI integration. I intend to be a part of that evolution."

Her lips pressed together slightly. "Russo Nightfall Industries is already a leader in the aviation sector. What do you need from me?"

Honest. Blunt.

I smirked. "Perhaps I just enjoy acquiring rare things."

She didn't flinch.

"Then I should warn you," she said smoothly, "I'm not for sale."

I chuckled. "Not everything is about ownership, Miss Rossi."

She tilted her head, unreadable. "Isn't it?"

Clever.

This woman wasn't just intelligent-she was sharp, deliberate in every move she made.

I liked it.

More than I should.

"I respect what you've built," I said after a moment. "But I also know that partnerships create power. You and I could redefine aviation, Miss Rossi."

Her fingers tapped lightly against the table. "And what exactly would I gain from this... partnership?"

A dangerous question.

But then, I enjoyed a challenge.

"You'd gain resources, infrastructure, access to a global network of clients. Your technology, combined with mine, would dominate the industry."

She exhaled slowly, as if weighing my words. "A tempting offer."

"But?"

She smiled faintly. "But I don't trust easily."

Neither did I.

"Good," I said, voice low. "Neither do I."

The silence stretched between us, thick with something unspoken.

Then she picked up her glass again, taking another slow sip. "If I agree to discuss this further, I'll need guarantees. Contracts, protections, clear terms."

I smirked. "Of course."

She studied me carefully. "Then I'll think about it."

Not a yes.

But not a no, either.

I could work with that.

I'm willing to wait," I replied, my voice low, determined. "But don't take too long, Miss Rossi. Because the longer you wait, the more difficult it will be to walk away."

She didn't respond, but I saw it - the slightest tightening of her jaw, the smallest flicker of a challenge in her eyes. She wasn't backing down.

And I wasn't either.

The moment she stood up, I felt the shift. The distance between us - physically and emotionally - seemed to lessen.

I followed her gaze as she looked out the window, her figure framed by the city lights. She looked every bit the CEO she was, powerful, poised, and untouchable.

But for me She is not untouchable. And Soon she will be mine only mine.

She left.

Just like that, without a second glance. The moment she left, a quiet frustration settled within me. Her confidence, her strength, the way she carried herself, completely unaffected by the weight of my presence.

And damn, it made me want her more.

I didn't care what it took.But she would me mine

Picking up my phone, I dialed a number-

"James " I said, my voice was cold yet demanding . "I need everything details of Pluviana Rossi. Everything."

There was a slight pause on the other end before the response came. "Understood, sir."

"I want her background, her habits, her associates-anything I can use. Don't leave any stone unturned. I want her routine, where she goes, who she meets with. I need to know everything about her. Make it thorough. I won't tolerate mistakes."

The silence stretched for a moment longer, then James responded, "Consider it done."

I hung up, my fingers tightening around the phone. I leaned back in my chair, my thoughts consumed with her

I ran a hand through my hair, the frustration building. There was no reason for me to be this obsessed, this consumed by one meeting.

But I couldn't help it. She had planted a seed, and now it was taking root. I didn't just want to collaborate with her. No, that wasn't it. I wanted her.

She will be mine, the thought repeated in my mind.

And I would make it happen.

𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽, 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓽,

𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽.

𝓐 𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻, 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽,

𝓢𝓱𝓮'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝓫𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓸𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽.

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy this chapter 🖤