The cafe was buzzing with its usual morning crowd, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the chatter of patrons. Pavani moved between tables, her practiced smile in place. Yet, an uneasy feeling lingered in the back of her mind—an intuition she couldn’t shake, like someone was watching her.

She brushed it off, focusing on her tasks. The last thing she needed was paranoia creeping into her carefully constructed new life.

Later in the day, just as the rush was slowing, the doorbell chimed. Pavani glanced up and froze.

It was him.

The man from before—the one who had spoken to those rude men in a voice so commanding it had sent a shiver down her spine.

There was something about him that drew her attention, an aura of control and danger that was impossible to ignore. His sharp suit and confident stride made him stand out in the humble surroundings of the cafe.

Behind him were the same two men, their faces a mix of nervousness and forced bravado. The Santori brothers.

Pavani’s heart quickened as she moved behind the counter, willing herself to appear indifferent. But she could feel the weight of his presence, like a gravitational pull.

The older cafe owner, Mrs. Ruiz, gave her a worried look. “You don’t have to serve them,” she whispered.

“It's okay, I’ll take the orders,” Pavani replied softly, surprising herself. She didn’t know what compelled her, but she wanted to see him—this man—up close again.

She grabbed her notepad and approached their table, her head held high.

Dante leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning the room. When Pavani stepped into his line of sight, his gaze locked onto hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

She looked different up close—smaller, softer, yet her eyes carried a defiant spark. It intrigued him, made him curious about the story behind those guarded expressions.

“What can I get for you?” Pavani asked, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

The Santori brothers rattled off their orders rudely, but Pavani barely heard them. She was hyper-aware of Dante’s eyes on her, the way he seemed to be studying her every move.

When she turned to him, he simply said, “Espresso. No sugar.”

His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of something deeper, something that made her skin tingle. She nodded, quickly jotting it down before retreating to the counter.

As Pavani prepared the drinks, her hands moved on autopilot, but her thoughts were far from her task. She found herself glancing at him—at the way he sat with an ease that was anything but casual, commanding attention without needing to ask for it. He wasn’t like the men she was used to seeing here. He radiated a quiet dominance, an aura that seemed to silence the room even when he said nothing.

It was unsettling. It was magnetic.

She tried to focus, but every movement he made, from the way he adjusted his cufflinks to the slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, drew her attention like a moth to a flame.

When she brought their drinks to the table, the Santori brothers didn’t waste the opportunity to remind her why she usually kept her head down.

“The scenery is beautiful,” one of them said, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

Pavani stiffened, her fingers tightening around the tray as she fought the urge to snap back. She bit her tongue, her cheeks burning with anger and humiliation. She wanted to walk away, to retreat to the safety of the counter, but the thought of backing down left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Before she could respond, a voice cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving.

“Careful,” Dante said, his words like a blade slicing through the tension. He didn’t raise his voice, but it didn’t need to be loud to be heard. It carried weight, a warning that sent a chill down her spine.

The Santori brother who had spoken faltered, his bravado crumbling. “It was just a joke,” he muttered, his face pale as he looked anywhere but at Dante.

“I didn’t laugh,” Dante replied, his tone as cold as ice. His dark eyes shifted to Pavani, and for the first time, she felt truly seen—not just looked at, but seen.

Her breath caught in her throat under the intensity of his gaze. There was something dangerous about him, something that should have sent her running, but instead, it held her in place.

“Thank you,” she managed, her voice soft and unsure. She didn’t know what she was thanking him for—maybe for stepping in, or for the unspoken reassurance in his presence.

Dante inclined his head slightly, a gesture so subtle yet commanding. “You shouldn’t have to deal with men like that.”

The way he said it, low and deliberate, made her chest tighten. His words were simple, but they carried a weight that left her feeling both vulnerable and protected.

Their eyes met again, and the world around them seemed to blur, the din of the cafe fading into the background. His gaze was steady, unreadable, but she thought she saw something flicker there—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition of the same unspoken tension that gripped her.

She broke the connection first, retreating to the counter on legs that felt unsteady. She busied herself with cleaning, refusing to look back at the table even as she felt his eyes on her, their weight like a physical touch.