The club was everything Ella had expected and nothing like what she was prepared for. It felt like walking into the belly of the beast, surrounded by polished leather chairs, dim golden lighting, and a hushed ambiance that screamed wealth, danger, and power in equal measure. The kind of place where you could vanish without a trace, and no one would care. The kind of place where you could also meet someone like **Marco Valenti**.
She took a breath, pushing past the heavy velvet curtains, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor as she entered. The air was thick with the smell of expensive cigars and perfume—scents that were oddly suffocating, yet comforting in their decadence. For a moment, Ella's nerves threatened to undo her. She wasn't supposed to be here. Not tonight, not ever.
But then she saw him.
At the far end of the room, sitting with the kind of casual arrogance that could only belong to someone used to controlling everything around them, sat Marco. His dark hair was combed back, sharp features illuminated by the low light, a glass of whiskey swirling lazily in his hand.
Marco Valenti. The name alone carried weight. A man whose reputation was spoken in hushed tones—a mob boss with a calculating mind, ruthless ambition, and eyes that could pierce through to the heart of anyone foolish enough to cross him.
He looked up when she entered, and despite the distance, his gaze felt like a magnet pulling her toward him. There was something about the way he sat, relaxed yet poised, that made him impossible to ignore. He didn't speak immediately—he didn't need to. His eyes did the talking.
Ella stood still for a moment, feeling the power of his stare like a weight against her chest. She had to remind herself why she was here.
Her purpose. The information she needed. The leverage she could gain.
She wasn't here for him. But she couldn't deny the slight flutter in her stomach as their eyes locked.
Finally, Marco broke the silence, his voice smooth and laced with a subtle menace. "I was wondering when you'd show up, Miss Grant."
Ella's lips tightened, keeping her expression neutral despite the disquiet stirring in her. "I wasn't aware I was on a deadline."
A flicker of amusement passed over his face. "I'm not the patient type, Miss Grant. When I need something, I don't wait. And I don't trust others to take their sweet time, either." He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Please. Have a seat."
Reluctantly, she moved forward, her movements calculated. Her every instinct screamed to turn around, to leave before things got any deeper. But she didn't. There was something in his gaze, in his presence, that kept her rooted in place.
As she sat, Marco set his glass down on the table and leaned back in his chair, studying her with unnerving intensity.
"Why are you here, Miss Grant?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with something unreadable. "What's your game?"
Ella tilted her head, meeting his gaze with a coolness she didn't feel. "I don't play games. I'm here to get what I need."
"Is that so?" Marco's voice dropped an octave, a subtle shift in tone that made her pulse quicken. He was used to being the one in control, and right now, he was sizing her up, trying to determine if she was a threat, an ally, or something else entirely. "And what exactly is it that you need?"
Ella paused, then leaned forward slightly. "Information. Your world runs on secrets. I need to know what you know."
Marco's lips curled into a smile, but there was nothing friendly about it. "You think you can waltz in here and just ask for what you want? No questions asked? No consequences?"
"I don't ask for favors," she replied, her voice steady. "I ask for deals."
His smile faltered, then reappeared, sharper this time. "Deals are dangerous things. They're binding, Miss Grant. And once you make one with me, you don't get to walk away."
She held his gaze, unflinching. "Then I'll make sure I'm ready to handle the consequences."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, a silent agreement that whatever path they were about to walk together, there would be no turning back.
Marco's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a brief moment, Ella saw something flicker in them—a warning, perhaps? Or was it something more?
"Tell me something, Miss Grant," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Why are you really here?"
Ella hesitated. The truth, or a version of it, sat on the tip of her tongue. She could tell him about the people who had dragged her into this mess, the secrets she was desperate to uncover. But she didn't trust him. Not yet.
Instead, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I'm here because you have something I want, and I'm not afraid to take it."
For the first time since she'd walked in, Marco seemed to genuinely consider her words. His lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile, one that made her skin prickle with unease.
"You're brave, I'll give you that," he murmured. "But let me make one thing clear, Miss Grant. This world isn't about bravery. It's about survival. And the moment you step into my world, you're playing by my rules."
Ella's pulse raced, but she forced herself to remain calm. This was a dangerous game, and she knew it. But she couldn't back down now. Not when she was this close to getting what she needed.
"I'm not afraid of your rules," she said, her voice steady. "I'll play, but only if I can win."
Marco leaned forward, his eyes darkening with a mix of curiosity and something else—something that sent a chill crawling down her spine.
"We'll see about that, Miss Grant," he said, the promise of danger lacing his words. "We'll see."
The air between them thickened, heavy with the weight of unsaid words. Marco studied her as though she were a puzzle he hadn't quite figured out yet—a puzzle that intrigued him, even as he suspected it might bite him in the end. His gaze didn't waver. Ella could feel his eyes on her, dissecting her every movement, every breath. And it unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
"Tell me something, Miss Grant," Marco said, breaking the silence, his voice low and soft. "What's your endgame?"
Ella didn't flinch. She could lie. She could play coy. But she wasn't here to play games with him, not anymore.
"I don't have an endgame," she replied, her voice calm but firm. "I'm just here for what I need. Nothing more."
Marco let out a soft chuckle, his eyes narrowing. "You're fooling yourself if you think you can walk into this world and leave when you're done. That's not how it works. Not with me. Not with anyone in this city."
Ella felt the challenge in his words, and something within her stirred. He wasn't wrong. She had known the risks when she stepped into this world. But she wasn't about to show any weakness.
"I'm not like you, Marco," she said, her voice a bit sharper now. "I don't play by your rules."
His expression darkened, but there was something else there, something almost calculating. He didn't seem offended, but intrigued.
"Is that so?" His lips twisted into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Then tell me, what makes you think you can survive in my world, on your own terms? You're playing a dangerous game, Miss Grant. One where the stakes are far higher than you realize."
The truth in his words hit her harder than she cared to admit. But it only made her resolve stronger. "I'm not afraid of danger."
Marco's smile grew. "Good. You'll need that courage. But trust me, it's not enough."
Ella clenched her jaw, unwilling to back down. She knew exactly what she was getting into. And if she was going to survive this world, she couldn't show any fear.
The soft clink of ice against glass pulled her attention to Marco, who was now casually swirling his drink. He took a slow sip, eyes never leaving hers.
"You know," he began, "most people wouldn't dare to come this close to me. They'd be terrified of what could happen next."
Ella tilted her head, meeting his gaze with an air of defiance. "I'm not most people."
Marco's smile returned, though this time it held a trace of something darker. "No. I can see that. You've got fire in you. I like that."
For a moment, the room seemed to close in around them, the low hum of voices and soft music fading into the background. It was just Marco and Ella now, and the connection between them felt more dangerous than ever.
There was something magnetic about him—something that drew her in, even though every instinct told her to back away. But she had a job to do. She couldn't afford to get distracted. Not now, not by him.
"So," she said, her voice steady, "how do we make this work? How do we get what we both need?"
Marco studied her for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair, almost lazily. "It's simple, really. You help me with a small problem I've got. You get close to the people I need you to get close to. You use your skills to get the information I need, and in return, I'll give you what you're looking for."
"Small problem?" Ella asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds like a bigger deal than that."
Marco's expression hardened, the shift so subtle it was almost imperceptible. "I don't deal in small problems, Miss Grant. Everything is bigger when you're in my world. But I think you'll find it's nothing you can't handle."
She wasn't so sure, but she didn't let it show. This was what she came here for, and she had no choice but to play his game. "And when I've done what you want, then what? What do you get out of this?"
"Besides the satisfaction of getting what I need?" Marco chuckled darkly. "I don't work without a benefit, Miss Grant. But you'll find that I'm fair." His eyes narrowed. "Fair… in my own way."
Ella's heart skipped. There was something in his tone, something unsettling in the way he said *fair.* It wasn't a word that belonged in a conversation with someone like Marco. But she pushed aside the unease.
"And if I don't agree?" she asked, leaning in slightly, her gaze never leaving his.
Marco's lips curled into a smile, but there was nothing friendly about it. "Then you can walk away. But if you do… you won't just be walking away from me. You'll be walking away from everything that's tied to me. And you'll have no protection. No allies. No second chances."
Ella held his gaze, weighing his words carefully. She had to be cautious. One wrong move, and this whole thing could spiral out of control.
But there was something about Marco's confidence, his conviction, that made her wonder if she was already too deep to back out now.
"I'm not afraid of losing protection," she said, her voice low. "But what makes you think I'll play by your rules?"
Marco paused, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Then he leaned forward, his eyes darkening.
"Because," he said quietly, "you're already here. And once you step into my world, you don't get to leave. Not without consequences."
Ella's pulse raced, but she refused to show any fear. She was in control of her own fate. Or at least, that's what she kept telling herself.
Marco's gaze softened, just a fraction, and for the first time since she'd entered the room, he looked… human. Less the powerful mob boss, and more a man with something at stake. Something personal.
"Think about it," he said, standing up slowly. "You want what I have. And you know I'm the only one who can give it to you. But remember, Miss Grant," he added, his voice low, "I don't deal in half-measures. If you're in, you're all in."
Ella didn't respond right away, her mind spinning. She could walk away, try to find another way. But deep down, she knew she wouldn't. Not now. Not when the stakes were this high.
And so, despite every rational thought telling her to turn around and leave, she nodded.
"I'm in," she said, her voice steady.
Marco smiled again, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Good. Then welcome to my world."