ARIA'S POV.
As I carried the tray of drinks to Dante’s office, my grip on the silver handles was steady. The glasses rattled softly with each step, not from nerves but from the weight of what I carried.
I stopped in front of the door, adjusted the tray carefully, and knocked once.
“Enter,” Dante’s voice commanded from inside.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
My eyes found Dante immediately. He leaned back in his chair with one arm draped along the armrest, his posture powerful and relaxed all at once. His sharp eyes were fixed on the two men across from him. He looked like he owned the room—and them too.
The man whose eyes had lingered on me earlier sat there beside the other one. He leaned casually in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, lips curved faintly as his ga
