02

Aurora

Dante’s office was more like a fortress than a workspace. Every detail—from the pristine marble floors to the dark wooden walls—exuded power and control. And at the center of it all was him, seated in a leather chair that might as well have been a throne. Dante Moretti. The man who, with a few words, had stripped me of all my choices.

I had agonized over what to wear. My closet didn’t offer much in terms of armor, but I settled on a black pencil skirt and a fitted white blouse with a blazer. Professional but modest. My heels were simple, yet they clicked sharply against the marble as I walked, betraying my nervousness. My hair was tied back in a low bun, and I wore no jewelry except a delicate silver chain—my one reminder of a simpler life.

When I walked into his office, Dante’s dark eyes locked onto me immediately. His gaze was sharp, calculating, and entirely unyielding. It was as if he was stripping me bare, dissecting every detail of my appearance and demeanor. I tried to ignore the way my pulse quickened under his scrutiny.

"You’re late," he said, his voice as cold and precise as the room we were standing in.

"I’m on time," I countered, forcing my voice to remain steady.

A slow, almost predatory smile curved his lips. "When you work for me, Aurora, you’ll learn that my time is the only time that matters."

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t risk pushing him too far. Instead, I crossed my arms, a small act of defiance that he didn’t miss. His gaze flicked to the movement, lingering just long enough to make my skin heat under his attention.

"You’ll start immediately," he continued, leaning back in his chair, his posture oozing authority.

"Immediately?" I repeated, trying to maintain my composure.

"Yes." His tone left no room for argument. "Follow me."

He stood, and for a moment, I was struck by his sheer presence. Dante wasn’t just tall—he moved with a commanding grace, each step deliberate, like he owned every inch of the space around him. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing the broad line of his shoulders and the power in his frame.

I followed him down a long hallway, the sound of my heels echoing against the marble floor. The tension between us was palpable, filling the silence like a heavy fog. I could feel his presence ahead of me, dominating the space even without speaking.

When we reached another room, he opened the door and gestured for me to enter first. The room was dimly lit, with a large table in the center piled high with documents. Contracts, financial reports, and other legal paperwork were spread out in neat stacks.

"These are the files from our latest business venture," he said, his tone casual, as if we were discussing a simple real estate deal.

I glanced at the papers, then back at him. "What kind of business?"

"The port," he replied, as though that single word explained everything.

It did. Everyone in Bellagio knew that the Moretti family controlled the port. It was the lifeblood of their operations—the entry point for their smuggling, trafficking, and everything else that lined their pockets.

"You want me to review these... to cover up crimes?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Dante’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer. Too close. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the sheer force of his presence suffocating.

"I want you to make sure that no one can use these documents against me," he said softly, his voice laced with warning.

My heart pounded as his gaze bore into mine. It wasn’t just the words he spoke—it was the way he said them, the quiet authority that left no room for negotiation.

"Why me?" I demanded, my voice trembling slightly despite my effort to remain composed.

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Because you have something to prove, Aurora. And because I know you’ll do whatever it takes to protect your sister."

My stomach twisted at his words. He wasn’t wrong. I hated that he wasn’t wrong.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair in front of the table. It wasn’t a request—it was a command.

I obeyed, lowering myself into the chair and pulling the nearest stack of documents toward me. The tension in the room was unbearable, made worse by the fact that Dante didn’t leave. He settled into a chair in the corner, his dark eyes fixed on me.

"You’re just going to sit there and watch me?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration.

"I like to oversee new employees," he said, the hint of amusement in his tone making my skin crawl.

"I’m not your employee," I shot back.

His smile widened, and the intensity of his gaze made my breath hitch. "Oh, but you are, Aurora. Whether you like it or not."

I clenched my teeth and turned back to the papers, determined to ignore him. But it was impossible to focus with his presence looming over me, his eyes burning into my every movement.

Hours passed, and by the time I finished, the sun had set. I placed the last document back on the table and stood, crossing my arms.

"It’s done," I said.

Dante rose from his chair, walking over to inspect my work. He flipped through the papers with the same meticulous precision he seemed to apply to everything.

"Good," he said finally, closing the folder. "Better than I expected."

"Glad to exceed your low expectations," I muttered.

His laugh caught me off guard. It was low, dark, and far too amused for my liking.

"You have spirit," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "That’s going to make this... interesting."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to let him see how much he unsettled me.

"Can I leave now?" I asked, my voice colder than before.

"For today," he replied. "But be here tomorrow at eight sharp. Don’t be late again."

I grabbed my bag and turned to leave, but his voice stopped me at the door.

"Oh, and Aurora..."

I glanced back at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Welcome to my world," he said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

I left without another word, but his voice echoed in my mind the entire way home. I hated him. Hated the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel like I was trapped in a game I couldn’t win.

But most of all, I hated the way a part of me was already drawn to the darkness he represented.