Alessia’s POV

“Stop—Dad, stop!”

I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my heart was hammering so hard against my ribs it hurt. My sheets were twisted around my legs, damp with my own sweat, my hands trembling as if they were still gripping something solid.

The dream clung to me.

Headlights blinding. Screaming metal. My father’s hands on the steering wheel, shaking and my mother's voice screaming just before everything went wrong.

The sound of my phone buzzing had woken me up from my nightmare, thankful for that but I was wondering who was calling at midnight.

Unknown number.

I hesitated before answering. “Hello?”

A low voice answered, smooth and dangerous. “Alessia Moretti.”

The voice sounded certain, commanding.

My pulse spiked. “Who is this?”

A brief pause.

“Someone who’s been looking for you,” the man said quietly. “And who finally found you?”

The call ended before I could say a word.

I stared at the phone, cold shivers running down my spine as my thoughts wandered toward the few people who knew my name—and even fewer who would ever use it like that.

I stood up when I heard the low growl of an engine, the unmistakable sound of a car moving. I staggered to the window just in time to see a black car pull away, disappearing into the night.

I held onto the window rails for support as my legs were shaking and my heart kept thumping as loud as it could.

The first thing I noticed when I unlocked the café that morning was the kind of silence that made my heart race so fast it could win a tournament.

The heaviness in the air only made it worse.

I flipped the sign to OPEN and stepped inside, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and vanilla syrup wrapping around me. This place had become my sanctuary over the years, a place where I felt safe, a place I could call mine.

I set my bag down behind the counter and glanced instinctively at the window, staring into the street for as long as I could remember, as if I were meant to see something.

Nothing unusual.

Still, the feeling lingered.

I felt like someone was watching me, the feeling was too heavy I dared not ignore.

I shook it off and busied myself with the normal opening routine—wiping down the espresso machine, lining up pastries behind the glass. But no matter how hard I tried to focus, my mind kept drifting back to the night before, and for the first time in ten years, I felt unsafe.

I couldn't stop thinking about the call, the man on the other end with a commanding voice, and the black car below my window.

Someone who’s been looking for you.

My hands tightened around a porcelain cup without me realizing it.

“You’re imagining things,” I muttered to myself and continued with my daily routine.

The bell above the door chimed— sharp and sudden—slicing through my thoughts. My heart jumped before I could stop it. My hands nearly dropped the cup, but I held onto it.

A man walked in.

He was walking towards me walked with a pole-like height and a black suit made so precisely that it looked tailored onto his body. He wore no tie, just an open collar revealing a hint of tanned skin. With each step he took, my heartbeat quickened. I couldn’t explain why—it just happened.

Not a customer.

That was the first thing my instincts screamed.

He wore an unreadable expression—too unreadable. His sharp, assessing eyes swept the room once before settling casually on the menu board.

And then—on me.

I felt it like a touch.

I pushed the unease aside and stepped forward. This was my space. My territory.

“What can I get you?” I asked, forcing a smile, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Espresso,” he said. His accent was faintly Italian, smooth. “Double.”

“Coming right up.”

As I turned toward the machine, my skin prickled. I could feel him watching me—my movements, my posture, the way my fingers trembled slightly as I locked the portafilter into place.

When I set the cup down in front of him, our eyes met. I held his gaze deliberately, refusing to let him see my fear.

Something flickered in his eyes.

Recognition?

No.

Calculation.

“That’ll be four euros,” I said.

He slid a bill across the counter, his fingers brushing mine—intentionally, I thought.

I felt cold chills down my spine.

“Keep the change,” he replied.

I nodded, pulling my hand back as quickly as I could.

He took the cup and moved to a table near the window, positioning himself so he could see the street. He stared outside as if uninterested, but I knew better.

My unease deepened with each move he made.

The bell chimed again moments later, and relief flooded me. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Sofia.

She burst in like a splash of color, dark hair loose around her shoulders with oversized sunglasses perched on her head.

“Please tell me you saved me a croissant,” she groaned dramatically.

I smiled despite myself. “Always.”

She leaned over the counter, lowering her voice. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” I admitted. Sofia was one of the few people who could see through me. There was no point pretending to be fine.

Her gaze flicked past me, then sharpened.

“Why is there a walking Prada ad staring at you like that?”

I stiffened because I knew what she meant but I still pretended like I didn't have a clue.

“What do you mean?” I murmured.

She tilted her head subtly toward the window table. “Him. Black suit. He is giving serial killer vibes.”

I risked a glance. Hearing it out loud made my fear real. I had been holding myself together until now.

The man was watching us openly.

My stomach dropped.

Our eyes met again—this time his lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Something colder. Like a smirk.

“I don’t know him,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Sofia muttered. “That’s the problem.”

The man stood abruptly, draining the rest of his espresso. As he turned toward the door, his eyes met mine one last time.

There was no apology in them.

No warmth.

Only intent.

The bell chimed as he left.

Sofia exhaled. “Okay. That was weird.”

My hands were shaking.

“I need some air,” I said, already moving.

Outside, the street buzzed with late-morning traffic, life continuing as if nothing had changed. But something had changed. I felt it deep in my bones.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my aunt before I could second-guess myself.

She answered on the second ring. “Alessia?”

“I think someone is following me,” I said, the words tumbling out.

Silence.

Then, carefully, “What makes you say that?”

“There was a man here,” I continued. “At the café. He watched me the entire time. And last night, I received a troubling call, this doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

“You’re sure you’re not imagining this?” Lucia asked, though her voice lacked conviction.

“No,” I said firmly. “This feels deliberate, like someone wants me to notice them.”

Another pause.

“If you feel unsafe,” she said slowly, “stay with Sofia. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Do you know who this could be?” I asked.

Silence again.

Too long.

“No,” she finally said. “But if someone is watching you, it means you shouldn’t be alone.”

A chill crept up my spine.

“I’ll call you later,” I said.

“Alessia,” Lucia added. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Don’t go home alone if it’s late and please be careful, the city is filled with bad people.”

The call ended.

I lowered my phone just as a black car rolled slowly past the curb.

Tinted windows.

The same car.

It slowed.

Paused.

Then drove off.

My heart pounded violently, just like it had the night before.

Because this time, I knew.

Whoever he was—

He was coming back for me.

Alessia’s POV

“I’m not going.”

I folded my arms, leaning against the kitchen counter sipping my favourite cup of coffee as Sofia zipped up her dress with the confidence of someone who already knew she’d win.

“You are,” she said without looking at me. “Because you’ve been walking around like the walls are listening, and I refuse to let you disappear into your head.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

The truth was, the last place I wanted to be was a crowded club filled with strangers, flashing lights, and too many unknown variables. Loud music wouldn’t drown out the feeling crawling under my skin.

She turned, eyes sharp. “You haven’t been fine since that man walked into your café.”

My stomach tightened. “He didn’t do anything. He drank his coffee and left.”

“That’s what worries me.”

I looked away. “Clubs are loud. Crowded. That’s not exactly comforting right now.”

“Exactly why we’re going,” she countered. “No shadows. No silence. Just music, people minding their businesses, and some bad decisions.” She said with a devious smile.

I hesitated.

Then sighed with my free hand covering my face. “One drink.”

Sofia grinned. “That’s my girl.”

The club swallowed us whole.

Lights sliced through the darkness, music pounding so hard I felt it in my bones. Bodies pressed together—heat, sweat, laughter. Everyone was wrapped up in their own world, yet my unease only sharpened.

The moment I stepped inside, it happened.

I had that unusual feeling, and I tried to swallow the thick air that just built up in my throat.

Like invisible fingers trailing down my spine. Like someone had been waiting.

My breath caught. My body reacted before my mind could.

I lifted my gaze.

Above the crowd, behind smoked glass and dim gold light, a private section overlooked the dance floor.

And there he was.

A man stood perfectly still, like a painting brought to life.

Tall. Broad. Dressed in black that didn’t look fashionable—it looked authoritative. One hand rested casually on the railing, his posture relaxed but dangerous, as if the entire room answered to him.

His eyes locked onto mine.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

Everything else blurred.

The music faded. The crowd dissolved.

It felt like recognition—deep and unsettling. As though my body knew him, even if my mind didn’t.

I swallowed hard.

“Alessia?” Sofia shouted and shook my stiff body. “You okay?”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just—hot in here.”

But I couldn’t look away.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t signal.

Just watched me like he had expected me to be here.

Then someone stepped beside him.

My breath stuttered.

The man from the café.

The black suit. The man who had his eyes on me the entire afternoon.

He leaned in and whispered something into the stranger’s ear.

The man above stiffened—just barely. His jaw tightened, but his posture remained composed, elegant, controlled.

And suddenly, I understood.

That man hadn’t been watching me.

He’d been reporting on me.

A chill raced down my spine.

“Drink,” Sofia said, pressing a glass into my hand.

I downed it without tasting it. I felt warmth spreading through me, dulling the edge of fear and replacing it with something reckless.

I looked up again—bolder this time.

The man from the café glanced down and met my gaze.

Not openly.

Carefully.

Like he knew he’d been caught.

He murmured something again, then disappeared into the shadows.

The man above didn’t move.

Didn’t stop watching me.

“This place has bad energy,” I muttered.

Sofia laughed. “You say that about every place with attractive men.”

“This feels different.”

I felt his energy around me before I saw him.

That presence—stronger now. Heavier.

A hand brushed the small of my back. Warm. Controlled. Deliberate.

I turned slowly, trying to maintain my gait as I was already feeling tipsy.

He stood too close.

Up close, he was devastating.

Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. A faint scar near his brow that only added to his danger. His cologne wrapped around me—deep, masculine, and sensual, I wouldn't mind sniffing him out.

“You shouldn’t stare,” he said quietly.

My pulse jumped, but I held my ground. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “You noticed.”

“I always notice.”

His gaze dipped—my lips, my throat, down to my open cleavage—before returning to my eyes. “You look… tempting.”

Heat curled low in my stomach, and my nipples felt erect like someone was controlling them.

“I don’t know you,” I said.

“No,” he agreed softly. “But something in you wants to.”

“That’s a dangerous assumption.”

He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear. “Danger is relative.”

My fingers curled at my sides and my nipples felt tingly for some weird reason.

“Why are you watching me?” I whispered.

He straightened slowly. “Because the sight of you is not something I would willingly miss.”

His words unraveled something inside me—something I didn’t know existed.

“You sound like you know me,” I said, forcing myself back to reality.

“I know of you,” he corrected.

“That’s worse.”

A pause.

Then, quietly, “You should leave.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Tonight,” he said. “Go home with your friend. Don’t be alone.”

The exact words my aunt had used.

Suspicion flared. “And why would I listen to you?”

His eyes darkened. “Because not everyone here is watching you for the same reasons I am.”

Before I could respond, he stepped back, a slow, dangerous smile curving his lips.

“Goodnight, Alessia.”

He vanished into the crowd, leaving heat, confusion—and need—

Dante’s POV

“I think she knows she’s being watched.”

I didn’t look at Luca as he spoke. I didn't realize he was back again. My eyes remained fixed on the spot where Alessia had stood moments earlier.

“I know.”

Luca folded his arms. “She clocked me at the café. And tonight.”

“You were sloppy,” I said calmly.

“I needed confirmation.”

“There was never any doubt,” I replied. I had been watching her for years.

Silence stretched.

“Are you sure it was wise to show yourself?” Luca asked.

My chest tightened. “Enough.”

“She doesn’t know who you are yet,” he continued. “But she feels you. You saw it.”

“I did.”

“And that makes her dangerous.”

I turned sharply. “No. It makes her vulnerable.”

“If she remembers—”

“She won’t,” I cut in. “Not yet.”

I adjusted my cufflinks. “You’re dismissed.”

“And if she starts digging?”

My gaze darkened.

“Then,” I said quietly, “I stop watching from the shadows.”

The music thundered below us.

Alessia Moretti had stepped back into my world.

And this time—

I wouldn’t let her walk away again, our encounter keeps replaying in my head, the warmth from her skin, her erect nipples showing through the little clothing she had on. At that moment, I knew she would be the death of me.

Alessia's POV

I felt something was wrong the moment I stepped out of my apartment, I didn't feel like going out but staying indoors wouldn't help, either.

The city moved as it always did-cars honking, voices overlapping, life continuing without care-but my body was tense, alert in a way I couldn't explain. Every instinct I had was screaming, my pulse was drumming louder with each step I took down the street.

I wasn't imagining it anymore.

I was being watched, the encounter from last night confirmed it but I just didn't know if it was for a good cause.

The walk to the café felt endless. I kept glancing at my reflection in shop windows, half-expecting to see someone standing too close behind me. My shoulders were tight, my jaw clenched. I barely recognized myself-this wary version of the girl who once walked through life without fear. I didn't like this version of me, the one who felt like she could shatter at the slightest push.

The club hadn't frightened me.

What unsettled me was how much I'd felt about someone who seemed so dangerous, the way my body responded to him felt so strange.

The way his presence had wrapped around me. The way his voice had lingered in my head long after he disappeared, the trails of his cologne after leaving, and how his words made my nipples tingle. The warning he gave me-you should leave-still echoed like a secret meant only for me.

The café offered temporary refuge. The familiar scent of coffee beans and steamed milk grounded me as I slipped behind the counter. I focused on routine-counting change, wiping tables, aligning cups-anything to keep my mind from wandering back to the night before.

It didn't help.

The bell above the door chimed.

My head snapped up.

Not him, relief rushed through me.

A woman ordering espresso. Then a man on his phone. Just normal people going round their daily routine, I guess I was the only one not feeling normal.

By midday, Sofia still hadn't arrived, and my gaze kept drifting back to the street. That was when I saw it.

Across the road.

A black car.

Parked too perfectly, too deliberately, as if it had always been there but I knew better.

My breath caught in my throat.

The windows were dark, impenetrable. The engine was silent, but the presence of the car felt heavy-intentional. Watching.

I stepped back from the window, I almost tripped on my own legs, my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure the customers could hear it, or not.

Don't panic, I told myself.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

Unknown number.

Cold crept down my spine.

I answered despite myself. "Hello?"

Silence.

Then slow, controlled breathing on the other end of the line.

My grip tightened. "If this is some kind of joke-"

"You're not imagining it," a familiar voice said calmly.

My stomach dropped.

I knew that voice.

"You," I whispered, I didn't realize I had lost my voice until I spoke.

"The man from the club," he said. "And the man who called you the other night."

My knees nearly gave way.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I demanded, lowering my voice, trying not draw attention. "Why are you watching me?"

"Because there's nothing more fun to do," he replied. "And because...." He didn't finish his sentence but I felt him smiling.

My chest rose and fell rapidly. "You don't get to make me feel uncomfortable just because it is fun to you." I couldn't believe my ears.

He let out a soft chuckle. Low. Dangerous. Intimate.

"You're right," he said. "But I get to decide what I do with my woman."

His woman?

I glanced back toward the street. The black car's headlights flickered on.

Fear tangled with something else-something unsettlingly warm.

"Look at me," he said.

"I'm not-"

"Alessia."

My name on his lips sent a shiver straight through me. He said it as he owned it. Like he owned me.

Against every instinct, I moved closer to the window.

He was there.

Not in the car.

On the sidewalk.

Leaning against a lamppost as if he belonged there, dressed in black, posture relaxed, his eyes already lifted to mine as if he'd known exactly where I would stand.

Time slowed.

My breath caught, I could finally take a look at his face... he looked too good to be true, like a walking sculpture.

Dark eyes that didn't rush, didn't flinch. His presence felt deliberate, controlled-with hungry-looking eyes, like a predator waiting to devour his prey.

He raised his phone slightly, acknowledging the call was still connected.

"I told you not to be alone," he said softly.

"I didn't agree to listen to you," I shot back, though my voice trembled.

"No," he agreed. "But you answered."

The bell above the café door chimed again.

My heart skipped.

He pushed off the lamppost and stepped inside.

The air shifted the moment he crossed the threshold.

It was like everyone had their eyes on him, people moved as he approached me, as if they knew him. My entire world narrowed to the space between us as he approached the counter slowly, like he didn't want to startle me. Too late.

Up close, he was dangerously attractive.

Sharper. Warmer. His cologne wrapped around me-dark and masculine. For some weird reason, I wish we could both be alone.

"You shouldn't follow people," I said, shaking off weird thoughts.

"You shouldn't make me come to you, I'm sure you don't want that," he replied.

He looked down briefly at my cleavage, then back to my lips and straight to my eyes. The look sent heat spiraling low in my stomach.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to gain control of the moment.

"For now," he said quietly, leaning just close enough that I felt his breath, "I'm the man who watches. The man who calls. The man who won't let anyone else claim what belongs to me."

His breath and his cologne made my nipples tingle again, I wanted his hands on them so bad, to touch them and claim them like his.

"That sounds like a threat," I said, almost breathless.

"It's a promise."

He straightened, taking a step back, giving me space even as his presence remained overwhelming. I felt a feeling of longing for him, I wanted to make him mine.

"I know how I make you feel...," he said calmly, looking at my nipples that gave me away. "And I love it." He grinned.

Before I could respond, Sofia burst through the door.

"Alessia-"

Her words died when she saw him, she slowed down her pace and looked at me trying to confirm if I was fine.

He glanced at her once, then back at me, his expression unreadable.

"This isn't over," he murmured. "It's only beginning."

Then he turned and walked out, leaving behind silence, heat-

-and the terrifying realization that I wasn't running from him.

I wanted him even closer now but I was left without a hint of his name and erect nipples...