His Contracted Temptation; Velvet Lies

CROSSED LINES

DANTE

I leave the house earlier than usual. Work’s one reason. The bigger one? Staying in the same space as Valeria after last night is… distracting. Annoyingly distracting.

The drive is quiet. Calm. Exactly how I like my mornings.

But her voice keeps sliding back into my head—her laugh, her dumb jokes, that ridiculous “thanks for all the orgasms” line she tossed out like she was talking about the weather.

Most women cling after s*x. I’m used to it. They hover, get soft-eyed, start asking all the wrong questions—one of the many reasons I don’t do commitment.

But Valeria? No. She jokes. She eats her breakfast like nothing happened, teases me like nothing has changed.

And that should make things easier. Really, yet it doesn't.

I pinch the bridge of my nose lightly as the car comes to a halt, the door opens, and I step out. The image of her from this morning flicks through my f*****g thoughts. Again—messy blonde curls, swollen lips, wearing my T-shirt like she owned it. And all I could think about was Alex doing the same damn thing—two nights in my shirt and she was already calling herself my girlfriend.

Too bad I’m not that guy. I don’t fall. Never have. I don’t do love, devotion, or any of that sentimental bullshit.

Reminding Valeria what we have is casual was a precautionary step because that’s what it is. All it'll ever be.

“Welcome, Mr. Romano,” Nadya says. I nod once and head straight for my private elevator.

I let out a low breath, glancing at my watch—9:30—and the elevator dings open. It’s just s*x. That chemistry, that heat—that was insane. Anyone would be thinking about it the next day.

That has to be it.

♠♠♠♠♠

Paul follows me into my office, handing over a thin folder. “Update from the break-in, sir.”

My brows pull together, and I collect it.

Finally.

“Camera logs?” I ask, flipping hurriedly.

“Wiped,” Paul replies in a low voice. “But the security team found something—someone used an internal access card.”

My spine locks up. I flip back to the first page, reading slower this time.

You've got to be shitting.

8:30 p.m.—Internal login: D. Martins.

Except Martins swiped into his gated estate at 7:40 a.m. Security footage shows him in house clothes, roasting barbecue with his family and nowhere near Blue Cyber. Someone else used his access.

I turn the next page.

CCTV stills of the lab hallway—normal, then suddenly nothing. A clean blackout stretching from 08:30:13 to 9:05:16. No glitch. No malfunction. A manual wipe.

My jaw clamps tight. My grip tightens.

Fuck!

Whoever did this walked in like they owned the place. Knew which cameras to kill. Knew the system tied to my private accounts. That’s not coincidence—that’s precision.

Paul shifts beside me, waiting for a reaction.

I set the file on my desk carefully—because what I really want is to tear it in half and put a bullet in whoever pulled this off. But I don't. Because I didn't climb up to the top by throwing tantrums. I'll invest my anger into tracking the fucker.

My jaw twitches, knuckles tightening into a fist before I slowly uncurl my fingers.

I let out a hiss, dragging my palm over my lips, and Paul shuffles behind me. My eyes snap shut. "Check the timestamps again. Someone’s making mistakes.”

“Yes, sir,” Paul mumbles awkwardly and goes out.

I barely settle into my chair before I hear the door swings open and Alejandro strolls in like he owns the place.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he smirks, eyeing me like he's trying to pry a secret.

As if.

I pull off my suit jacket and sling it on the back of the chair.

His grin widens, and he slides into the seat opposite. “You look well-rested. Real well-rested.”

“Say it.” I grit. I've barely gotten over the first bullshit for the day; I don't need a second.

“Oh, I plan to,” he says smugly, slouching against the chair, arms spread over the back like he's auditioning for a nuisance-of-the-year award. “But first…” he leans forward, lowering his voice dramatically, “what's up with your new girl?”

I make it a point not to look up from my laptop screen. “Kill me already, are we f*****g doing this now?” I sigh.

Alejandro scoffs aloud, then snorts. “You’re right, my mistake for asking. C'mon, you don't have to be so worked up about the fire. Has Paul updated you on the investigation?"

My fingers still on the mouse. “Yes. Are you done?”

“No,” he says immediately, bright-eyed. “Actually, I’m just warming up. Dude, you never tell me anything anymore. I’m supposed to be your buddy, and yet somehow, I find out about your romantic entanglements through Alex—”

What the—

My head snaps up. “Alex?"

“Took you long enough to react,” he says. “She called me the other night, crying. Said you were with some ‘Valentino’ girl and that you two were getting married. She sounded hysterical as hell.”

“I already told you—we’re engaged,” I mutter, scrolling like the conversation bores me.

Silence.

Fuck. It just had to be now. Don't get me wrong, I trust Alejandro as both my consigliere and best friend, but I have no plans of telling him I'm in a contract relationship; one call from my father and the truth would be plastered on the covers of every damn magazine.

I swear it's like the room just ran out of oxygen. I can feel Alejandro digging a glare into my head...

Here we go.

The chair squeaks as he slumps back.

Alejandro’s eyes flare, voice tight as he waves an arm. “Are you kidding me? You think this is funny? I’ve been your right hand through every mess, Dante, and you drop this on me like it’s a punchline?”

“When were you planning on actually telling me? I f*****g thought you were messing with me," Alejandro scoffs. His eyes level mine, accusation flashing in them as he frowns. "And since when do you want to get married?"

Before I can think up an excuse, my phone buzzes. The second I see her name, my mood shifts.

VALERIA: Guess who came visiting.

A corner of my mouth slightly tilts up despite myself. I lean back against my chair. Alejandro murmurs something incoherent.

Here we go.

ME: Who?

A second later:

VALERIA: Cruella de Vil.

My brows rise slightly, smirk curling higher.

Of course. The next text comes before I even begin to type.

VALERIA: aka the woman that calls me Valentino.

That's all it takes for my smirk to fade. I pull the phone closer, brows knitted, while I glare at my screen.

My mother was at the house. Unannounced and talking to Valeria. That can't be good.

“Right. Looks like I’m gonna be the only single one left,” he whines dramatically. “Can’t wait for the wedding. I’m thinking lavender suits.”

“Look,” my fingers hover over the mouse. “I’m taking it slow. That’s why I didn’t tell you—well, kinda didn’t. But it’s serious, Alejandro. And you’ll be in the loop. Happy now?”

He scoffs then rolls his eyes. "Engaged is slow. Surprise me."

I pin him with a glare, voice low. “Enough. You want the gossip, fine. But I’ve got bigger problems than my love life right now. Someone just walked into my company like they owned the place. That’s what I’m focused on.”

Alejandro leans back, jaw locked tight, eyes narrowing as he studies me. “Fine,” he spits. “But don’t pretend this doesn’t matter. Bro's before hoes.”

“Try actual work today instead of running commentary on my personal life.” I deadpan.

"f**k you, man," he says gruffly. I don't miss the smile in his voice.

“Besides,” he mutters, cracking his knuckles. “Your personal life's way more entertaining.”

My mind drifts—briefly, unwillingly—back to Valeria. Back to her text. Back to the fact that my mother might still be in my house with her, and all I wish for is for time to tick faster. My jaw flexes once before I mentally shut the thought down.

"You don't say,"… Even if the knot tightening in my gut says otherwise.