Chapter 2: The Invitation
1171 Words
Chapter 2: The Invitation
For three days, Liyanah didn’t see Dante Moretti.She kept on thinking about him and why he wanted her to help him in the hospital.
She told herself it was for the best.
The fewer criminals she stitched up, the less likely she was to be lying in a coffin. Still, she caught herself glancing toward the ER doors whenever footsteps echoed through the hall thinking it was him. Each time, her stomach knotted a strange mix of annoyance and anticipation.
It wasn’t that she liked him. She didn’t.He was arrogant, dangerous, and too calm for someone who bled like that. But there was something about him the way he looked at her, not like a man admiring a woman, but like a predator staring at a wildfire.
It made her pulse quicken.
On the fourth night, it happened again.She was just finishing her shift when the nurse quickly approached her. “Dr. Khan, someone’s waiting for you in the private lounge.”
Liyanah frowned. “Who could be waiting for me in the private lounge?"
The nurse lowered her voice. “He said his name is Mr. Moretti .”
Her heart dropped then shot up again.
“Tell him I’m busy with something.”
“I already did. He said he will wait.”
Of course he did.
Liyanah sighed, removed her gloves from her smooth hands, and pushed open the door to the staff lounge. The scent of espresso hit her first strong, dark. Dante Moretti was sitting on the couch, perfectly composed, a black cup in his hand and a cigarette in his other hand. How he’d gotten past security, she didn’t want to know.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said flatly.
He stood, smiling faintly. “You look tired, Doctor.”
“That’s what happens when you work for a living.”she said .
“Touché.” He slowly walked towards the coffee machine. “I made you one.”
“I don’t drink coffee from strangers thank you.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
“Exactly.”
He chuckled, low and smooth. “You have a sharp tongue doc.”
“I have work to do so bye.”
She turned to leave, but he stepped in front of the door not threateningly, just there. Too close. Close enough that she caught the faint scent of smoke and his expensive cologne.
“Relax,” he said softly. “I came to thank you properly for the other day.”
“I already told you — I don’t need—”
“Dinner,” he interrupted. “One hour. Neutral ground. My men won’t be there.”
Her brow arched. “You think I’m going to dinner with a man whose name is whispered like a curse in every part of this city?”
His smile didn’t falter. “You think too much. It’s just dinner doc .”
“I don’t mix business and pleasure.”she said
His voice dropped a tone. “You’d be surprised how often they overlap.”
Her pulse betrayed her one quick beat against her ribs.
She hated that he noticed.
Dante’s eyes softened. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“Should I be?”
“No.” A shadow crossed his face, something dark and unreadable. “But everyone else is afraid of me.”
She stared and studied him for a long moment. The truth was, she wasn’t afraid not because she thought he was harmless, but because she sensed something broken under his surface, like a man who’d made peace with the monsters he carried.
Finally, she sighed. “One hour. Public place. If you bring anyone with a gun, I walk straight out of the place.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
The restaurant was elegant, quiet not one of the flashy places she expected a mafia man to be at. White tablecloths, low lighting, and the faint hum of a jazz record spinning somewhere unseen and candles on every table.
Dante stood as she approached. He wore black again it suited him too well.“You came,” he said softly.
“Only because I don’t like unsolved mysteries,” she replied, sitting down.
He poured her a glass of wine, which she ignored and pretendedthe glass was not there.
“So, tell me, Dr. Khan,” he began. “Why work in a hospital?”
“Because people die too easily.”
He tilted his head. “And you think you can stop people from dying?”
“I try.”
“Even if they don’t deserve it?”
Her gaze hardened. “Everyone deserves to live. That’s the point.”
Something flickered in his eyes maybe regret.
“Even me?” he asked quietly.
The question hung between them like smoke.
She looked away. “You don’t strike me as someone who wants saving.”
He leaned forward. “And yet, you did save me.”
“That was my job.”
“No,” he said, voice low. “That was mercy doc.”
Her throat tightened. There was sincerity in his tone heavy, unpolished and real. For a man built on violence, he looked oddly human under the dim light. Tired. Haunted.
They ate in uneasy silence for a while. Then he asked, almost casually, “Do you know what happens when a doctor saves a sinner?”
“I’m guessing you’ll tell me.”
“She becomes part of his story.”
Liyanah’s fork paused midway. “And what if she doesn’t want to be part of his story?”
“Then the story finds her anyway.”
Something cold coiled in her stomach. She didn’t understand if it was a warning or a promise.
When the check came, he paid without a word. Outside, the night was cold and dark. His car waited outside the restaurant, sleek and black like everything about him.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said stiffly.
He smiled faintly. “You’re welcome. But next time—”
“There won’t be a next time.”she said.
He studied her face for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll see doc.”
As she turned to go, his voice followed softly behind her.
“You know, Liyanah , people like me don’t chase women. We take what we want when we want but you… you make me forget that.”
She froze for half a second, heart pounding.
Then she walked away without looking back ignoring his words.
That night, sleep didn’t come easily to her.
When she finally drifted off, she dreamed of dark eyes watching her through the glass and the sound of her own heartbeat echoing in the dark.
Somewhere in the city, Dante Moretti sat alone in his car, staring at the scar on his hand the one she’d stitched closed and whispered to himself:“Fearless little doctor.”
And for the first time in years, he smiled and blushed.
- Writer
