Lucia Romano arrived at the exclusive rooftop restaurant where she had summoned Dante. Despite the late hour, the space exuded an air of exclusivity, the kind of place where power brokers and shadow rulers negotiated terms unseen by the world. The city lights sparkled far below, but neither of them had come here for the view.
Dante sat at a private table tucked in the farthest corner, his posture relaxed yet commanding. The subtle yet undeniable aura of dominance he exuded wasn't something one could learn; it was something innate, honed through years of absolute control.
Lucia's heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she approached, her tailored coat and sharp dress mirroring the confidence in her gaze. Dante rose from his seat—a polite but calculated gesture....his eyes assessing her as if cataloging every move she made.
She didn't falter. If there was one thing Lucia had mastered in her lifetime, it was how to face powerful men without flinching.
"Mr. Vitale" she greeted, her voice smooth and even as she extended a hand.
"Mrs. Romano" Dante replied, his deep voice carrying an edge of curiosity. He gestured for her to sit, then resumed his own seat, leaning back slightly as he observed her.
The server approached with a menu, but Dante waved him off without a word. Lucia arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
"I imagine you have questions" she began, folding her hands neatly on the table. "Let me address the most obvious one first: how I got your number."
Dante's lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained cold. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."
Lucia's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Let's just say I have my ways. You don't need to worry about the how—only that I've contacted you for something important."
Dante's sharp eyes narrowed slightly. He was already making a mental note to have Matteo dig into her past. Lucia Romano wasn't just a name. There was something in her composure, in the way she sat across from him, that hinted at a deeper story.
Dante tilted his head, studying her as though she were a puzzle he intended to solve. "You don't strike me as a woman who acts without a plan. So, tell me, Mrs. Romano, what is it you want?"
Lucia leaned forward slightly, her expression sharpening. "This is about my daughter, Isabella."
At the mention of Isabella, Dante's eyes flickered with a brief but noticeable change in intensity. He didn't move, but his entire demeanor shifted, his focus now razor-sharp.
"Go on" he prompted, his voice low and measured.
Lucia hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing. "My husband, Marco, is arranging a marriage for her. To a man who has no business being her husband. An old man, rich but vile." Her voice hardened. "You know the type."
Dante's fingers tapped once against the table, a barely perceptible movement. "I know many types. What's your point?"
"My point" Lucia said, her voice rising just enough to show her frustration, "is that I need someone who can stop this. Someone with the power to make Marco think twice."
Dante's smirk returned, colder this time. "And you think I'm that someone?"
Lucia met his gaze without flinching. "I know you are."
The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken implications.
"And why" Dante said finally, his voice a dangerous whisper, "should I involve myself in your family's affairs? What's in it for me?"
Lucia allowed herself a small smile. "Because I may have heard about the way you look at her."
The statement hung in the air like a thunderclap. Dante's expression remained inscrutable, but there was a flicker of something—something raw and unguarded—that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"You're mistaken" Dante said evenly. "I don't look at anyone."
Lucia leaned back, crossing her arms. "You can deny it all you want, Mr. Vitale. But I'm not an idiot. You stood by her side at the gala, protected her when even Marco wouldn't dare. That wasn't just casual interest."
Dante's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "Even if it weren't.....hypothetically...it still wouldn't concern you."
Lucia's smile turned wry. "It concerns me because she's my daughter. And because I don't trust Marco to do what's best for her. If you care about her even a little, you'll help me stop this marriage."
Dante's gaze bore into her, his voice dropping to a lethal softness. "Careful, Lucia. I don't take kindly to being manipulated."
"And I don't take kindly to my daughter being sold off like a commodity" Lucia snapped, her composure slipping for the first time. "I'm not manipulating you, Vitale. I'm asking you to do what you know is right."
Dante's silence was deafening. The tension between them was almost suffocating, a clash of wills between two people who were far too alike.
"Why me?" he asked finally, his tone quieter but no less intense. "Surely you have other allies."
Lucia's expression softened, though her eyes remained steely. "Because I know men like you. I've seen them before....men who command respect and fear in equal measure. Men who don't back down from a challenge."
Dante leaned forward, his presence almost overwhelming. "And what makes you think I care about your challenge?"
Lucia hesitated, her voice lowering. "Because you're not just 'Il Diavolo,' no matter what they call you. You're a man. And men like you don't look at women like Isabella the way you do unless they care."
For a moment, Dante said nothing. His mind raced, analyzing her words and the layers of truth beneath them.
Finally, he stood, his chair scraping softly against the floor. He loomed over her, his presence as commanding as ever.
"I'll think about it" he said coolly.
Lucia rose as well, matching his gaze without faltering. "Don't think too long. Time isn't on her side."
As she turned to leave, Dante's voice stopped her.
"Lucia."
She paused, glancing back at him.
"I'll deal with Marco" he said, his voice a quiet promise. "And I'll make sure Isabella doesn't have to suffer because of him."
Lucia's lips curved into a faint smile. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you."
With that, she walked away, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the rooftop exit.
Dante remained where he was, his mind already racing with plans. He had long suspected that Isabella was more than just Marco's daughter, and now he had even more questions....questions that only time would answer.
One thing was certain: Isabella Romano was no longer just a name on a file. She was a storm, and Dante Vitale was standing directly in its path.