The moment Adriana sat across from Damien Moretti, she knew there was no turning back. She had already crossed a line, and now, there was no choice but to keep playing the game, no matter how dangerous it might get.
Damien’s eyes were sharp, calculating, and there was no mistaking the challenge in them. The dark-haired, chiseled figure before her was the kind of man who never allowed anyone to get too close. Yet, here she was, sitting in his personal space, pushing her luck. She had to keep it together. Moretti was a master manipulator, but she wasn’t some naive debutante he could easily control.
Moretti leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass, watching her with an intense, almost predatory gaze. “Marco seems distracted tonight,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Not in
