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...

Alessia's POV

When he left the café, the silence didn't feel right. The music was still playing, but the place no longer felt the same. It was colder, heavier, like something important had passed through and taken the warmth with it, I wondered if everyone else felt it.

I stayed behind the counter, staring at the space where he had stood. My hands tightly rested on the surface, but I didn't realize it until my fingers started to ache. My body still felt tense, like it was trying to catch up with the fact that he was gone. My nipples still felt as hard as a rock, too.

Sofia was watching me, trying to read my mood.

I noticed it when I finally looked up. Her expression wasn't curious or amused. It was sharp and serious. The kind of look she only gave when she sensed trouble, I knew I was in for tons of questions I didn't even have answers to.

She walked over to the door without saying anything, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and locked it. The sound of the lock clicking into place felt louder than it should have. Then she turned and walked straight toward me.

"Okay," she said. "You're going to talk. Right now." She wasn't asking.

I swallowed. "About what?"

She stopped in front of me, crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow. "Don't play dumb. Who was that man?".

I wish I knew.

I leaned back against the counter, suddenly feeling tired. "I don't know."

She let out a short laugh. "You don't know? Alessia, that man walked in like he owned the place. People moved out of his way. And yet he stood right in front of you, way too close for comfort."

"I noticed," I said quietly.

"Did you? And you looked like you forgot how to breathe."

"I didn't, I was just trying to find out why he came" I said, though I wasn't completely sure that was true.

"You did," she replied. "And don't lie to me."

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "He's the man from the club."

Her face changed immediately. "The one you told me about?"

"Yes. And... he's the one who called me that night."

Her jaw tightened. "So the stalker."

"I don't know if I'd call him that," I said quickly, trying to defend him. I don't know why I did that, though.

"Alessia, he followed you from the club, called you without explaining how he got your number, and now he shows up at your workplace. What exactly would you call that?"

I didn't answer right away. I didn't know how to explain what I felt without sounding foolish because I know Sofia wouldn't buy any excuses.

"It's not like that," I finally said. "When he's around, I don't feel scared. He makes my body react in ways I have never felt, with just his words."

"That's not a good thing," she said.

"I know," I replied. "But he doesn't feel random. He feels familiar. Like my body knows him even if my mind doesn't."

Sofia shook her head slowly. "That's dangerous thinking."

"I know it is," I said. "That's why it scares me."

She studied my face for a moment. "You don't owe him anything. Not your attention. Not curiosity. Whatever you're feeling doesn't mean you have to entertain it and I'm sure you will get over it."

"I know," I said.

But knowing didn't make the feeling disappear.

By the time we locked up, night had fully settled in. The street outside was quiet, almost empty. The air felt cooler than usual, It felt weird.

"I'll walk you halfway," Sofia said as she put on her jacket.

"I'll be fine," I replied, forcing a smile.

She gave me a look that said she didn't believe me. We walked together until we reached the corner where our paths split.

She stopped and grabbed my arm. "Text me when you get home."

"I will."

She hesitated, then hugged me tightly. "Please be careful."

"I always am," I said

But the words felt hollow the moment they left my mouth. I wish I had followed her.

I walked away, my heels clicking softly against the pavement. The streetlights cast long shadows that stretched across the road. Every sound felt louder in the quiet.

After a few minutes, I felt uneasy.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

I slowed down slightly.

The footsteps slowed too.

My heart started pounding.

Don't panic, I told myself.

I kept walking, trying to convince myself I was imagining it. When I turned onto a narrower street, the footsteps followed.

They were closer now.

Faster.

My chest tightened. "Hello?" I called out, hating how weak my voice sounded.

No answer.

Before I could react, a hand grabbed my wrist.

I screamed as pain shot through my arm. I was yanked backward into the shadows so hard I almost lost my balance. My bag slipped off my shoulder and hit the ground, spilling its contents across the pavement.

"Let go of me!" I shouted, kicking and struggling.

"Stop moving," a rough voice said close to my ear. I didn't recognize it.

Fear rushed through me. I fought harder, scratching blindly, trying to pull free. Another hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off my scream.

I bit his hand as hard as I could.

The man cursed, and his grip loosened slightly.

For a second, I thought I might break free but I wasn't strong enough to do that.

Then the pressure returned, stronger than before.

I struggled, my heart racing, my mind spinning with fear. My wrist burned where he held me. My legs trembled as I tried to stay upright.

Then everything stopped.

The grip had vanished suddenly, like it had never been there.

I stumbled forward, gasping for air. I gathered what was left of my strength and tried to run.

The street was silent.

Too silent.

I turned, my vision blurry, trying to understand what had happened.

A figure stood at the edge of the light. Watching.

I couldn't make out his face.

Before I could speak or move-

Everything went black.

Dante's POV

His call came just as the city was getting dark with deception-when lights softened, voices lowered, and people were getting ready to close their stalls for the day.

"She's in danger."

Those two words were sharp and enough to make me drop my whiskey, I stood up abruptly and dashed out before getting the details. I gave the valet one strong look and that was all he needed to get my car to me.

Luca didn't need to say her name.

My body had reacted before I thought. The room I'd been in-leather chairs, low music, men who feared me even while pretending not to-didn't matter at all, I just needed to get to her.

"Where," I growled.

"Three streets from the café. On the narrow road with bad lighting. Two men. One got away but I was able to handle the other one."

The engine roared beneath my grip as I drove through the streets, the city blurring past me as I drove like I wasn't in control of the wheels anymore-could be rage or the whiskey. I had warned her to be careful. Not because I wanted control-but because I knew what happened to women who shine too brightly. Good thing I had Luca follow her all day.

They'd made a mistake.

The street appeared ahead-dim, narrow, wrong.

I saw the chaos instantly.

One man sprawled on the ground, groaning, trying to crawl away but Luca held on to him.

I stopped the car without finesse and stepped out slowly. Calmly. The air changed the moment my feet hit the pavement. It always did, I had that effect on people and places.

The man on the ground looked up-and froze.

"No-please," he rasped.

I crouched, bringing myself to his level. He shook violently, eyes darting past me like he hoped someone would save him.

"You touched my woman," I said quietly.

That was all I needed to say.

His breath ceased. "I didn't mean-"

My fist landed on his jaw, controlled and precise. He collapsed again but this time, with a broken sound.

I leaned in closer, voice like ice. "You were paid. By who?"

"I swear-I don't know names-"

I hit him again, slower this time.

He screamed.

I stood and spoke to Luca, eyes never leaving the man lying on the floor. "Luca. Take him. Make him remember. Find the second one. Break him if you have to."

"Yes, boss."

Then I turned.

She lay near the edge of the light, crumpled on the pavement like something precious discarded too roughly. Her hair fanned around her face, lips parted slightly, skin pale beneath the streetlamp.

Rage surged-hot, vicious-but I forced it down. Not now.

I knelt and gathered her into my arms, carefully with my eyes scanning her body with my eyes, trying to check if she was harmed.

Her body felt warm to my touch. She was breathing.

Alive.

My chest tightened.

"You're safe," I murmured against her hair, my voice rougher than I liked. "I've got you."

And I meant it in every sense of the word.

Alessia's POV

I woke slowly-it felt like I was waking up from a nightmare.

The first thing I noticed was the scent that filled the room.

It was dark, clean, and masculine. It wrapped around me like a sweet memory, stirring something low in my body before my mind caught up.

The second thing I noticed was the silence.

Not the thin quiet of my apartment, where the distant sounds of the city waking up, people dragging their lazy bodies to work, the sound of car engines, or the sound of angry drivers blaring their horns.

I slowly opened my heavy eyes which seemed to have been shut for the longest time.

The room was large, dimly lit in warm amber tones. Soft light traced the edges of dark furniture, heavy curtains sealing the world outside. The bed beneath me was too comfortable, the sheets were cool and smooth against my skin.

This wasn't my home.

I shook with fear for a second and calmed myself afterwards.

Because fragments of memories were beginning to become clear.

Hands. Pain. The sudden release. Darkness.

And then-

Him.

I remember his strong arms holding me up to his chest and how his cologne filled every part of me despite the pain, his calm voice cutting through my fear. I remember how his presence swallowed the whole chaos.

I pushed myself upright slowly. My head throbbed, but I was aware, I looked around trying to be familiar with the environment. I was alert.

I was wearing an oversized shirt-soft, unfamiliar, carrying that same scent that made my breath cease.

His scent.

The door opened quietly.

He stood there.

Tall. Solid. Dressed in black like the night had shaped itself into a man and it was standing right in front of me. His eyes found mine instantly, dark and unreadable, yet impossibly focused.

"You're awake," he said with relief on his face.

My heart skipped-not from fear.

"You saved me," I whispered.

He didn't deny it. He stepped closer, stopping just short of the bed. Close enough that the air between us felt charged.

"They won't touch you again," he said calmly. "I made sure of that."

Something in his voice made my skin prickle. Not comfort. Not a threat.

Certainty.

"Where am I?" I asked.

His gaze moved slowly over the little clothing I had on-not possessive-but intense, as if he were memorizing every breath I took.

"With me," he said.

That should have scared me.

It didn't, it gave me some sort of assurance that I was safe.

My body reacted before I had the opportunity to think. Heat pooled low in my stomach, awareness sharpening painfully. I was too conscious of the way he filled the room. The way his presence had such a strong effect on me even without his hands touching me.

"You watched me," I said quietly. "From the café. From the street."

"Yes."

"You followed me."

"Yes."

His answers were short and precise.

"You didn't think to ask if I wanted that?"

He stepped closer-one step. Enough that I could feel the warmth of him, smell him more deeply. Leather. Smoke. Something dangerous beneath it all, dangerous enough to make my nipples tingle.

"I knew you'd feel it," he said. "Before you admitted it."

My breath stuttered, I couldn't find the right words to say.

"That's not fair."

"No," he agreed softly, leaned in, and whispered. "It isn't."

His hand lifted-but stopped inches from my face. A question without words.

I swallowed. Nodded.

His knuckles brushed my cheek, barely there. The touch sent a shock through me, sharp and all I wanted was for him to fuck me. My skin burned where he touched me, my body leaning forward before I could stop myself.

"I should be terrified," I whispered.

"But you're not."

I wasn't, I just wanted to have him inside of me.

His thumb traced my jaw slowly, deliberately, tilting my face up until my eyes locked with his.

"Tell me to leave," he said. "And I will."

The lie was that I could.

I didn't.

Instead, my fingers tightened in the sheets beneath me, my pulse racing, my body betraying every sensible thought.

"What happens now?" I asked.

His gaze darkened-just slightly.

"Now," he said, voice low, intimate, dangerous, "you rest. And when you wake again... we can talk about what happens next."

"And if I want it now?"

A slow smile curved his mouth.

"There's plenty of time to wait."

He stepped back, giving me space-but the tension stayed, thick and undeniable.

As the door closed softly behind him, one terrifying truth settled deep in my bones-

I hadn't just been saved.

I'd been pulled into something I wasn't sure I could ever escape.

And part of me... didn't want to.