Crimson Secret

The city’s skyline glittered in the distance as they drove through the quiet streets. Inside the car, the air was thick with unspoken words. Dante’s eyes stayed forward, but his thoughts circled around Alessia like a storm.

She’s always been like this, he reminded himself. Cold. Detached. Perfect.

Yet, there was something different now, something shifting beneath the surface. The flicker of tension between them tonight had been undeniable. Sergei had noticed it too—he’d seen the way Dante had reacted when he spoke to her, the way his jaw clenched with that possessive anger.

Possessive. The word unsettled him. He wasn’t a man who cared much about anything outside of his empire. He had built his fortune on logic and control, never allowing personal attachments to interfere with business. Alessia had been an exception only because she was useful—her sharp instincts and ruthless efficiency were unmatched. She was the perfect asset.

But tonight, it hadn’t felt like business.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. How had it come to this? How had he let her get under his skin?

Beside him, Alessia’s gaze remained fixed on the darkened streets. She could feel his turmoil, even without looking at him. It was a sixth sense she’d developed, an awareness of the emotional currents around her. And Dante’s emotions tonight were tumultuous.

She shouldn’t have cared. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to think about it. Dante was just another employer, another powerful man in a long line of them. Men who saw her as a tool, a weapon they could wield when the situation demanded it.

But Dante had never treated her that way. That’s what made him different. He respected her, relied on her, trusted her with more than just the dirty work. And somehow, in the quiet spaces between their professional interactions, something deeper had started to form. She could feel it growing, like a dark, forbidden thing, creeping into the cracks of her carefully built walls.

Alessia blinked, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t afford this—couldn’t let herself be distracted. Not by Dante. Not by anyone. She had made a promise to herself a long time ago, a promise she intended to keep.

Still, the memory of his touch lingered. That brief, fleeting moment when his hand brushed her back had ignited something she hadn’t felt in years.

Weakness.

“You’re quiet,” Dante said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost too casual.

“I’m thinking,” she replied, her tone even, giving nothing away.

“About the deal?”

“Among other things.”

Dante glanced at her, but she didn’t meet his gaze. That only made him more frustrated. She was always so composed, so in control, and it was driving him mad. He wanted to see what lay beneath that mask. He wanted her to let him in.

“Sergei didn’t waste any time, did he?” Dante said, trying to keep his voice light. “He’s always got an angle.”

“He’s dangerous,” Alessia responded, her eyes still on the road. “You know that.”

“So are we.”

For the first time, she looked at him, her dark eyes locking with his. “We’re not like him, Dante.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. There was a truth in them that neither of them wanted to face. Dante was ruthless, yes, but there was a line he hadn’t crossed. Not yet.

But Alessia… she had crossed that line long ago.

“You should know by now,” Dante said quietly, his voice softer than usual, “I’m not afraid of dangerous things.”

Their eyes stayed locked for a moment longer, and in that silence, so much was said without words. Alessia saw the raw intensity in his gaze, the desire he was struggling to keep in check. She felt it too, that magnetic pull drawing them closer, a force she knew would be catastrophic if she let it take control.

“I’m not your weakness,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dante’s jaw tightened. “Who said I had any?”

“You’re too smart not to know when something’s a risk.” Alessia’s tone was cool, professional, but inside, her heart raced. “And you’re smart enough to avoid it.”

His hand flexed on the wheel as the tension between them thickened. The car rolled to a stop outside Dante’s penthouse, the towering structure gleaming in the night. Neither of them moved to get out.

“I don’t see you as a risk,” Dante said after a long pause, his voice rough. “I see you as something else.”

Alessia’s breath caught, but she quickly masked it, slipping back into her practiced indifference. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Dante’s eyes were burning into her now, and she felt the heat of his gaze on her skin. “Don’t acknowledge what’s happening between us? Or don’t act on it?”

She swallowed hard, keeping her face impassive. “Both.”

For a moment, there was silence. Dante’s frustration was palpable, but Alessia’s resolve held firm. She couldn’t let herself fall into this trap, not now. Not ever.

Finally, Dante exhaled, the fight going out of him—at least for tonight. He opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. Alessia followed, her heels clicking softly on the pavement as she moved beside him.

The elevator ride to the penthouse was agonizingly quiet. Dante stood next to her, his body tense, the scent of his cologne sharp in the enclosed space. She could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took everything in her not to lean into it, not to let herself indulge in the pull she felt.

When the doors opened, Dante walked ahead, his broad shoulders tense as he entered the lavish penthouse. Alessia followed a few steps behind, her mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts.

Before she could make an excuse to leave, Dante turned, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite name. “Alessia.”

She froze.

“I don’t know what’s happening between us,” he said slowly, his voice deep and rough. “But whatever it is… it’s not just business anymore.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay calm. “It has to be.”

Dante took a step toward her, his gaze intense. “Does it?”

“Yes,” she whispered, though the word felt like a lie.

He stared at her, his jaw clenched, his frustration boiling just beneath the surface. For a moment, she thought he might push further, might cross that invisible line between them.

But then, he stepped back.

“Good night, Alessia,” he said, his voice hard, like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

She nodded once, turned, and walked toward the door. But as she left the penthouse, the weight of what had just happened hung heavy in the air.

Neither of them had won this battle.

And they both knew the war was far from over.