DANTE

"Well, I'd hate to come from your family-if that helps."

The corners of my mouth lift before I can catch myself and I'm laughing. Only Valeria could say something like that and make it sound that damn funny. That wasn't supposed to be funny.

I should probably defend my parents, especially Mom, but I've lived long enough to know better. They're real-life villains ,or superheroes-depending on who's watching. And Valeria... she's worth the damn trouble. Mom usually runs off my dates before dessert, and when I don't bring them, she still finds a way to ruin it. But Valeria? She handled her. Flawlessly.

I steal a glance at her , gaze slowly traveling over her body. The same body I swore I'd keep in check - long legs stretch lazily, shining dimly under the glow of the streetlights, her breasts jiggle with the rustle and fall of her chest, causing the sleeve of her dress to slip, and my cock twitches in my pants. Just then, my phone rings.

The screen lights up showing Alejandro's name.

"Excuse me." I lift a finger, swiping my screen. "Alejandro? What-"

"You need to get to the office now, Dante. I'm already there. There's been a break-in and an attempt to hack into the company's software."

I tsk, jaw ticking as my features slowly harden.

"Shit! When did that happen?" I say quickly in Italian, running a hand through my hair.

"A few hours ago. We haven't been able to confirm the exact hour yet." Alejandro's voice sounds tense; someone calls him in the background and he shouts back a muffled reply.

"What the hell does that even mean?" My voice rises and I bolt from my seat. "I didn't hire the best hands to work like snails," I spit, rage coiling in my throat; my breathing comes out ragged and loud. Whoever pulled that shit has some balls– I'll find that mother fucker.

"The IT guys are already here, but there's something you need to see for yourself. I can't say more over the phone," he sighs.

"Fuck," I mutter, my grip tightening on the phone.

♠♠♠♠

"I'll see you later," I say hurriedly to a confused Valeria. I don't wait for Taylor, my driver, to open the door; I do it myself and hurry to the building. There's a crowd of journalists, cops, and workers camped outside; among them I spot my assistant, Paul. Our eyes meet and he hurries to my side.

"What floor's Alejandro?" I say icily, already headed to the entrance.

"On the twentieth ," he says in a breathless whisper. "Sir, the cops are still inside the lab. They said whoever did this knew what they were doing, got past three firewalls and physical security. Alejandro's been talking with forensics since he arrived..."

I tune out soon, silently fuming. My long strides eat up the distance and soon I'm almost at the front door when Paul places a hand on my shoulder. I turn sharply to face him, shrugging him off.

"Sir, you might want to stay back for now, there's shattered glass everywhere, and the wires near the mainframe sparked earlier," Paul's voice fades into silence at my glare. He steps aside, lowering his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he mutters.

At my arrival on the tenth floor, the air reeks of burnt circuits and sharp disinfectant.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper aloud, taking in the damage.

Shards of glass crunch under my shoes as I step inside, the glow of half-dead monitors flickering across the walls. A few cables hang loose, sparking faintly. Blue-red flashes from the cops' radios strobe against the metallic walls. Two officers dust for prints near the shattered mainframe while another murmurs into his walkie.

Alejandro stands by the central console, sleeves rolled up, his expression carved in stone.

"Said the same thing when I walked in," he mutters. Then, looking around suspiciously, he tugs my sleeve lightly, nudging me toward a less crowded area.

"Someone's feeding intel from the inside," Alejandro says in a low voice once we're out of earshot. His eyes flick toward the cops before settling back on me. "The breach wasn't random, Dante. They knew exactly where to hit - the same systems tied to your private accounts."

My eyes narrow back to the mess and I roll my neck, trying to ease the stiffness building at the base. "You're saying there's a mole," I say flatly.

He nods grimly, rubbing the back of his neck-a nervous habit he only has when shit's bad. "We traced fragments of the code to the same pattern used before the assassination at your brand launch. Whoever did this had help, someone with access."

I exhale sharply through my nose, nostrils flaring. There's only one name on my mind: "Nacho."

Alejandro hesitates, lips pressing into a thin line. "Possible. But he's too careful to get his own hands dirty. He'd use someone inside to do it for him."

My gaze narrows, flicking to the shattered mainframe and back to the soot-stained walls. I swear on my life - if that bastard had any hand in this, I'll snap his head off with my bare hands. He's pinned an assassination on me, scared off investors, and now he thinks he can get bolder every day. I'll make sure this is the last provocation he ever gets, even if it's the last thing I do.

"Then we start digging. I want names, Alejandro - anyone who logged in remotely, anyone who's been near this system in the past seventy-two hours."

He gives a curt nod. "Already on it. Forensics is pulling access records now. But if it is Nacho..." He pauses, eyes darting to the side, voice dropping lower. "Then this isn't just about the company, Dante. It's personal."

I clench my fists at my sides, veins tightening across my knuckles. "He picked the wrong person to make it personal with."

Alejandro studies me for a second, brows knitting as if to gauge how far I'll go. "Don't stress over it. All we have to do is wait for him to make one wrong move and then attack," he says reassuringly.

I give a dry half-smile. "Nacho's too smart for his own good and I don't have the patience to wait for something that may never happen. I'll personally put an end to that bastard."

My phone screen comes to life, displaying the PDF I sent Valeria earlier. I don't even remember pulling it up, probably tapped it by mistake, but the file's already loaded-her responses neatly typed beneath each question.

I skim through, half-distracted, until one line catches my eye. "Best food: anything I'm craving at the moment."

A dry chuckle escapes me, barely there, but it's enough to pull a small smile to my lips. Give it to Valeria to be 'spontaneous'.

Alejandro glances up from the monitor. "What's funny?"

"Just a text," I say, still looking at the screen. Then I add, almost casually, "From Valeria."

His brows draw together in thought. "Valeria?"

"The woman from the club," I reply, locking the screen and sliding the phone aside. "My fiancée."

For a second, Alejandro just stares. "You got engaged?" If expressions could get Grammys, he'd be walking out of here with an armful.

I fold my arms over my chest, clearing my throat. "Something like that." My voice levels out again as I switch the subject. "Tell me how deep the breach goes."

The silence stretches, work swallowing whatever curiosity he has left.

VALERIA

One minute, Dante’s eye-fucking me from across the seat. Chances are he knows I can see him and doesn’t care—or maybe he's clueless I'm aware. Either way, I play along, laughing harder, rolling my shoulders until my sleeve slips... and the next—the call, and then...

"I'll see you later," that’s all Dante says before rushing off. Taylor starts the car, and I crane my neck toward the chaos outside,but aside from flashing blue and red lights and a growing crowd, I can’t make out much.

The drive home is quiet. I’m halfway to sleep when the door opens and Taylor taps my shoulder.

“We’ve arrived, ma’am.”

“So soon?” I yawn, covering my mouth. He nods and holds the door open. I thank him and head inside.

Silence greets me. My heels echo against the marble floors, each step emphasizing just how empty this place feels. I think of those big houses I used to deliver to back in Colombia—towering pillars, million-dollar art on every wall, and still, the same hollow quiet. They always had one thing in common: the resounding absence of happiness and satisfaction. Now I’m living in one of them.

Dante's emergency leaves me with no choice but to call it a night.

I don't bother locking the door. A small smile tugs at my lips in satisfaction as I take in the room—queen-sized bed, feathered pillows, a well-furnished and beautiful, well-stocked walk-in closet, and my own personal mini spa of a bathroom. For someone who grew up scraping by, what more could a diva like me want?

A lot, actually. But this will do for now.

I sigh, peeling off my clothes slowly, each piece landing to form a small heap. My body cracks as I stretch. Me time, finally. Rihanna's essential playlist blares from my phone, and I heat up the jacuzzi. Warm, scented water wraps around me as the bath bomb fizzes, turning the water dark green and filling the air with jasmine and rose.

Just as I grab the soap, my phone rings. I roll my eyes and reach for it. My mood lifts when I see the name flash on the screen: Diego.

A lump forms in my throat and I gulp, placing my phone against my ear.

"Hello," I whisper, switching to Spanish.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me, Camila," Diego’s voice drops, irritation lacing his tone.

Here we go.

I bite my lips, scrambling for an excuse. “Didn’t think I was supposed to call so soon. You’re the one who said only in emergencies, remember? The two-week rule?” I snap, eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

Diego sighs, voices chattering in the background. "You always have an answer, don't you, Camila? Are you in?"

I smirk. "What do you think?"

I can already picture his frown, and it makes me grin wider.

"Was it that easy? Or is there something I’m missing?" I can tell he's both surprised and suspicious.

I twirl a strand of hair, toes peeling through the bubbles. "Guess you'll just hear the juicy parts when we meet. Told you I could get any man I want, didn't I?"

"You can get anything you put your mind to, Valeria," he corrects dryly. I roll my eyes. Typical Diego—always my hype man.

"Semantics," I click my tongue.

Diego scoffs, mumbling something incoherent in Spanish. "Don't just disappear like that, Camila, you had us worried for days." There it is—the protective nature of my friend resurfacing.

"Tell them I'm sorry," I say in a small voice, letting out a deep sigh. "I didn't have much of a choice, you know. I thought about calling, but it was too risky."

"Do you think he believes you?" Diego asks.

Does he believe me? I ask myself. I try to remember any time Dante has acted suspicious of me or questioned me, and nothing comes to mind.

"He should. I mean, I'm going to be Mrs. Romano soon," I say defensively, surprising both myself and Diego.

There's a brief silence, and I slap my forehead. There, I've done it again... in five, four, three, two, o—

"I remember you sounding this way with a certain Raphael—"

"Shut up, Diego," I bolt upright in the bathtub, water sloshing. I grip the side of the bath rail tight enough to hurt. "You don't have to remind me of that fucker every time I've got something good going."

"You sounded a bit too happy, if you ask me," Diego mutters. Then softer, "I don't want you to get hurt again, Camila."

"Well, I'm not," I bite out.

"If anything goes wrong, you let me know, okay?"

"Sure thing, Dad."

"I'm serious," he says sternly, and I roll my eyes. God knew what he was doing when he took my dad and gave me a twenty-seven-year-old best friend with a fifty-year-old’s personality.

"I know, I know," I groan, dragging my hand along my face.

"Good girl. We send greetings from here. Take care, Camila."

"You too, Diego. I send my greetings with love." The line goes dead immediately, and so does my mood.

The quiet returns—until a ping. A Fox News alert lights up my screen:

“Blue Cyber Systems Hit by Major Cyber attack Amid Breach Allegations.”

I tap it instantly. So that was why he'd left in a hurry. In one night, both his inheritance and business have been threatened. He seemed confident earlier, maybe too confident—but one can only reach a breaking point.

I tap on the phone app, about to ring him, but I can't bring myself to tap on his number.

My thumb hovers over his digits. Should I call? What if he doesn’t pick up? Would I be interrupting? Maybe tomorrow morning’s better.

He’s already had a rough day as it is. I give my phone one last look, thumb hovering over his name like it’s a trigger.

“Don’t be that girl,” I whisper to myself. Then I tap call anyway.

It rings once. Twice. Then voicemail.

I give my phone one last look before hitting play. Rihanna's voice fills the air, drowning out every sound—but my thoughts are louder

VALERIA

Light pierces through the blinds, tearing the room's comfortable darkness. I roll over, shielding my face-then freeze at the sound of a chuckle. One eye snaps open.

"Holy shit!" I place a hand on my chest. "You scared me to shit."

"Rise and shine, Valeria." Dante is about to drag off the covers when I reach for them, pulling them against my body. His lips twitch into that smug, challenging smile I hate to admit I like.

"You don't get to barge in and wake me up like it's high school," I place a hand on my waist, squaring my shoulders.

"Well, it's my house," he says lazily, tugging harder like I'm a kid fighting over candy.

My grip slips, and I place a second hand on the covers. "I'm your wife, so..."

Dante's eyes widen, his grip loosening slightly, and I take advantage of his surprise and pull again. It falls out of his hands easily, and I mirror his previous expression.

"For someone jobless, you have quite a way with your words," he says slowly, his eyes moving carefully over my face as though he's seeing me for the first time.

"I've been told," I shrug. I lay back on the bed, ready to return to sleep when Dante yanks the covers in one swift motion, hanging them on his shoulder.

"Hey!" I shout. "That's cheating, Mr. Romano!"

"I get that a lot." Dante shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief, that stupid smirk that gets me every time displaying his dimple. I flip him off. He just rolls his eyes. "As much as I'd love to see more of those priceless expressions, I actually came to tell you to prepare for lunch this afternoon. Mr. & Mrs. Smith, my business partners, are hosting. This'll be our first public event as a couple."

"And you didn't care to tell me earlier?" I raise a brow.

"Don't be a smart mouth, Valeria," he says flatly. My lips part to speak, but before I can make out a word, Dante throws the cover, and it lands right on my face.

I throw it off, glaring at him. Green eyes stare back at me, amusement swirling in them, hands tucked into his sweats.

"Really?" I roll my eyes, rising to my feet. At this rate, he'll likely toss me out of the bed. Dante gives me a bored look, the type that says, "So, whatchu gonna do now, princess?"

"You've got three hours, Bellissima," he says, turning away, laid-back steps eating the distance slowly. "Dress code's all white."

"Thanks for the heads up," I say sarcastically, waving at his moving figure.

"You're welcome," Dante hollers back.

"Bully," I mutter under my breath.

"I heard you." With that, the door shuts with a soft click. I stare hard at the door, fighting a half-smile, half-frown. I'll give it to Dante for being an annoying dickhead. The smile wins.

A dickhead that has you smiling, that small voice in my head says.

♠♠♠

I smooth my dress for the umpteenth time and frown. Again.

I'm dressed in an A-cut romper from Chanel with a square neckline that stops just below my collarbone, a small white shoulder bag made from straw, dark shades paired with white peep-toe kitten heels, and gold jewelry. Makeup-light, in that clean-girl way I've finally gotten right thanks to overpriced cosmetics.

I let out a sigh at my reflection. "There's nothing to stress over," I tell myself. "It's just a silly all-white party. If you can make Walmart clothes look chic, then you'll look fab in these designers," I press my hands to my chest, breathing slowly.

"Walk that room like you-"

A knock on the door distracts me from completing my pep talk. The handle turns twice. Good thing I'd already locked it. I roll my eyes, knowing very well it's no other person than Dante. That man doesn't know how to wait.

I march to the door, unlock it, and step aside. His brows lift slowly, eyes darkening as they roam over me with feline precision. There's not a shred of shame on his face, and I feel like a painting under inspection. Dante's gaze lingers at the curve of my hips, intense eyes passionately tracing every line with an abruptness that makes me press my thighs closer-partly from self-consciousness but mostly because of the heat pooling in my stomach.

His gaze returns to mine, and my breath catches in my throat. "You look hot, Bellissima." My cheeks flame with heat, and I roll my eyes.

I clear my throat. "Next time you should knock."

"Why?"

"Because..." Nothing comes to my head immediately. "What if I was naked?" I blurt out my weak defense, and regret hits me immediately. Dante's eyes grow dark, a glazed look in them.

His gaze lingers on my lips before he chuckles darkly. "And?" His voice is low, rough in that I just woke up from bed way that makes my pussy clench. Again. I bite my lip and step back, my heart performing an excited flip in my chest, my breathing uneven.

Dante closes the space in one stride, his arm locking around my waist. "I haven't even touched you, and you're already trembling," he scoffs, twisting a strand of my curls, eyes still locked on mine.

"You're going to ruin my makeup..." I say in a breathless whisper, turning my face away.

Dante grips my chin firmly, tilting it to face him in one move. "Say the word, and I'll back off."

I blink hard, struggling in his grip. My treacherous pussy contracts hard, and my toes curl, slick arousal trickling into my panties. My lips part slightly, and I let out a faint whimper. Fuck! And I thought I was the only one who had a way with my words. Dante lowers his lips to my ear, the heat of his nose skimming over my neck. My hands travel to his chest, gripping his breast pocket, and I shut my eyes.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he warns, stepping back.

"Don't you dare-" the words die in my throat at the sight of a quirked brow, and my lips clamp shut.

"Please, Dante, I want you to touch me." Dante nods his head encouragingly. "Isn't that all?" I snap, frustration straining in my voice.

Dante shakes his head, sliding his tongue over his lower lip.

"God damnit, I'm already horny!" I cry out, but that only makes his brow rise impossibly high. "Fine! I want to feel the heat of your hands on my body. I want you to taste your lips on mine," my voice drops to a desperate plea, "turn me over on that couch and fuck me till I pass out-"

"Time out," Dante says, turning away. "We have a party to attend."

My eyes literally roll out of my socket as I stare at the man in front of me.

"Wait-what?" I move hurriedly to his side, dragging his elbow. "What the fuck was-"

"What was that? Making sure we attend the party on time."

"You literally just turned me on," I hiss, jabbing his chest.

"But if you ask me on a deeper level, I'll say I was taming the shrew," Dante says calmly. Then, opening the door, he offers his hand, a poker-faced expression on his face. "Shall we?"

"Whatever," I mutter angrily, marching past his outstretched hand.

♠♠♠♠

I'm still angry with Dante throughout the ride, so fucking angry that I stick in AirPods the whole time. I don't think he really cared since he was mostly answering calls, and yes, I also sat very far from him just to make things clear.

Too bad I'm stuck holding his hand-part of the performance, apparently.

Dante, ever the socialite, introduces me to everyone. I lose count by the fifth introduction.

"Excuse me for a second," I whisper into Dante's ear, slipping away from his grip.

"Bathroom?" I nod.

"Ask an usher to show you around." I'm about to move when his grip tightens. "Don't get lost. I'll be here waiting."

I follow Dante's instruction, glad to finally pee. The bathroom is empty, save for a stall where someone is flushing.

I quickly pee and start to retouch my makeup when something snaps beside me. Someone snickers beside me.

"Valentine, is it?" My head snaps so fast, my hair whips against my face...

Alex