The atmosphere in Dante De Luca’s office was as intimidating as the man himself. Every surface gleamed with meticulous precision—glass, steel, and black leather dominated the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline, and the silence was palpable, broken only by the occasional typing or muffled footsteps outside his door.

Dante sat behind his desk, skimming through a series of reports on his tablet. His assistant, Lucas, stood nearby, her posture stiff and professional as she updated him on the latest developments.

“The merger with Axion Tech is on track, sir. The legal team is finalizing the terms, and the board meeting is scheduled for Friday,”

Lucas reported. “Your evening schedule includes a call with the European investors at seven.”

Dante gave a curt nod, his focus sharp. “And the security upgrades?”

“They’ll be completed by the end of the week. I’ve ensured the highest level of encryption for all internal communications.”

“Good.”

The sound of the door opening interrupted them, and Vincenzo Ricci strode in without knocking. Vincenzo was Dante’s opposite in many ways—where Dante exuded cold, measured intensity, Vincenzo radiated a mischievous, relaxed charm. His unbuttoned blazer and slightly disheveled hair were proof he didn’t take formalities too seriously.

“Ah, here it is—the ice palace,” Vincenzo announced with a grin, looking around. “Dante, do you ever let people breathe in here, or is suffocation part of the decor?”

Dante barely glanced up. “Do you ever knock?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Vincenzo retorted, dropping into one of the chairs across from Dante’s desk. He glanced at Lucas and gave him a friendly nod. “Morning, Lucas. How’s life working for this tyrant?”

Lucas’s expression didn’t falter. “Productive, Mr. Ricci.”

Vincenzo chuckled. “Of course it is.”

Dante set the tablet down and fixed Vincenzo with a pointed look. “If you’re done wasting time, get to the point.”

“I’m getting there.” Vincenzo leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “But first, let’s talk about your recent… excursions. Word is you’ve been frequenting a quaint little cafe. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not exactly the coffeehouse type, are you?”

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly. He turned his gaze to Lucas, who stiffened. He avoided his piercing stare, but his silence was telling.

“Lucas,” Dante said evenly, “take a break.”

He quickly gathered her tablet and exited, leaving the two men alone.

Vincenzo’s grin widened. “Don’t blame him. I’m very persuasive. Plus, you know how curious I get when you start acting… unusual.”

Dante leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. “What’s your point, Vincenzo?”

“My point,” Vincenzo said, leaning forward now, “is that you don’t do anything without a reason. And you sure as hell don’t waste time sipping lattes unless there’s something—or someone—worth your attention. Care to share?”

Dante’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “You should worry less about my coffee habits and more about the shipment arriving tonight.”

Vincenzo held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. Business before pleasure.” He lowered his voice, his playful demeanor giving way to something sharper. “We’ve got the docks secured. The crew knows the drill, but there’s been chatter about interference from outside players. I’m handling it.”

Dante’s gaze darkened, his mind shifting seamlessly to the more dangerous side of his life. “I want a full report by midnight. No surprises.”

Vincenzo nodded. “And what about the Santori brothers? You still planning to entertain their little investment pitch?”

“For now,” Dante said coldly. “They’re useful, but that doesn’t mean I trust them. Keep an eye on them.”

“Already on it,” Vincenzo replied, his tone serious. “Anything else?”

Dante leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Yes. Whoever leaked intel about my routes to the authorities last month—I want their name. And I want it handled.”

Vincenzo’s grin returned, albeit more sinister. “Consider it done.”

The two men exchanged a nod, a silent understanding passing between them. For all their differences, they operated like a well-oiled machine when it came to their empire.

As Vincenzo rose to leave, he paused by the door. “Oh, and Dante?”

“What?”

“If you’re planning to keep visiting that cafe, you might want to invest in a warmer smile. Wouldn’t want to scare her off.”

Dante’s smirk returned, subtle and calculated. “Noted.”