The sleek glass facade of De Luca Enterprises gleamed in the morning sun as Dante stepped out of his car. His tailored suit was immaculate, his every movement precise and deliberate. To the outside world, Dante De Luca was the picture of a successful businessman—charming, strategic, and untouchable.

Inside the boardroom on the 30th floor, the tension was palpable as executives discussed an upcoming merger. Dante sat at the head of the table, his sharp gaze moving from one nervous face to another.

“We’ll go ahead with the acquisition,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “But only on my terms. If they push back on the tech integration clause, walk away. They need us more than we need them.”

Heads nodded in agreement, though not without a few uncertain glances. Dante’s ability to command a room with minimal effort was legendary, but it also made him an enigma to his employees.

As the meeting concluded, Dante’s assistant, Lucas, approached with a folder in hand. “The investment proposal from the Santori brothers,” Lucas said quietly.

Dante’s eyes darkened as he took the folder. “Those two,” he muttered, recalling their behavior at the cafe. “Schedule a meeting for later. I want them to understand the cost of disrespect.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucas replied, knowing better than to ask for details.

By late afternoon, Dante’s day shifted. Beneath the corporate exterior lay the darker side of his empire. At a discreet warehouse on the city’s outskirts, Dante met with his trusted mafia associates. The air was thick with the scent of cigars and tension.

“Shipment’s delayed,” one of his lieutenants reported, his voice uneasy.

Dante leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “Delayed, or intercepted?”

“We’re still verifying,” the man stammered.

“Verify quickly,” Dante said, his tone cold. “And if it’s intercepted, make sure the message is clear. No one steals from us and lives to tell the tale.”

As the meeting ended, Dante’s phone buzzed. A text from Lucas: Santori brothers are groveling for another chance. Want to deal with them now?

Dante smirked, typing a quick reply: Tomorrow. Let them sweat.

That evening, Dante returned to his penthouse overlooking the city. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, letting the familiar burn ground him. The day had been long, but not unusual. Balancing his two worlds was second nature by now.

Yet, as he stared out at the city lights, his mind drifted to the cafe. To her.

The waitress.

He hadn’t meant to notice her. In his line of work, distractions were dangerous. But there was something about her—something in the way she had stood her ground, her quiet strength wrapped in a veneer of politeness.

And her eyes. He couldn’t shake the image of those eyes, sharp and guarded, as though she carried secrets as heavy as his own.

He didn’t know her name, didn’t even intend to. Yet she had captured his attention in a way few ever did.

Dante frowned, taking another sip of his drink. Curiosity was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Still, he couldn’t deny the spark of interest she had ignited.

For now, he’d let it be. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths would cross again, and when they did, he intended to find out just who this mysterious woman was.