The meeting had dragged on longer than expected, the dull monotony of negotiations wearing at my patience. By the time I stepped into the backseat of my car, the night had settled over the city, its glittering lights painting the skyline in shades of gold and silver.
I leaned back, loosening my tie as my driver pulled onto the main road. My mind, however, wasn't on the meeting I had just endured. It was elsewhere-on a certain woman who had made it impossible for me to think of anything else.
Amara Ashford.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the notification. Her response to my collaboration proposal had arrived. Though I hadn't read it yet, I already anticipated her tone-sassy, sharp, and calculated. The thought brought a smirk to my lips.
Despite the irritation she had caused me over the last few days, I couldn't deny that I was looking forward to tomorrow. She would be coming to my office to discuss the terms of our collaboration, and I would finally have her within reach.
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when my car slowed at a traffic light. I glanced out the window and froze.
There she was.
She was walking along the sidewalk with her assistant, the insufferable Vincenzo , engaged in what appeared to be a teasing conversation. The streetlights illuminated her figure as she moved, the sleek black dress she wore clinging to her form with effortless elegance. Her hair flowed like liquid midnight, and though her expression was slightly annoyed, there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.
They were close enough to suggest familiarity, but not close enough to confirm intimacy. Still, the sight of her with another man-a man who clearly enjoyed her company-ignited a flame of irritation in my chest.
Are they dating?
The thought was unwelcome, absurd even. My sources had confirmed that Amara wasn't seeing anyone, not publicly or secretly. She had always been fiercely independent, unattached, focused solely on her empire. And yet, watching her now, I couldn't shake the gnawing jealousy that gripped me.
That man opened the car door for her, bowing theatrically as if mocking the very idea of chivalry. Amara rolled her eyes, muttering something I couldn't hear, but the corner of her lips twitched in amusement.
The sight made my jaw tighten.
I didn't understand it. She was standing at a respectful distance from him, her body language devoid of anything remotely romantic, and yet I found myself bristling with an irrational urge to remove him from the equation entirely.
Why does another man being close to her make me want to shoot him in the head?
My hand tightened around the leather armrest, my gaze fixed on her as the car started moving again. Their casual conversation, his ease around her-it grated on me in ways I couldn't explain.
She was a puzzle I hadn't solved yet, a storm I couldn't predict, and the thought of someone else having access to her, even in the most innocent way, was infuriating.
She disappeared from view as my car rounded the corner, but the image of her lingered in my mind, sharp and vivid.
By the time I reached my place , the irritation had settled into a simmering tension. I poured myself a glass of whiskey and stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city below.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, she would step into my world, into my domain.
She would work with me, sit across from me, and we would negotiate terms.
But more importantly, I would learn more about her-every detail, every motivation, every layer of the woman who had managed to get under my skin in a way no one else ever had.
And perhaps then, I would finally understand why the thought of another man near her made me want to tear the world apart.
The morning had arrived with its usual indifference, but today, there was an unusual weight hanging in the air. I won't admit it to anyone, not even myself, but I had arrived earlier than usual. It was one of my main buildings in the city for my legal business. It wasn't that I was eager-no, not eager. It was just... necessary. I had a meeting with her. Miss Ashford.
I watched the clock as it ticked closer to 10 AM. Precisely at that moment, my assistant knocked, his voice breaking the stillness of my office. "She's here, sir," he said. And with that, my pulse did something it hadn't done in a long while-shift, ever so slightly. I couldn't understand it, but there it was.
I told him to let her in. And as I waited, I watched the feed from the security cameras, observing her movements. She walked into the building with that unmistakable confidence of hers, her posture perfect, her gaze sharp, her every step commanding attention. But there was something different today-something in her that was subtly off. The slight irritation in her expression was hard to miss, and I couldn't help but smirk. She wasn't as composed as usual. Maybe she was frustrated with something. Or maybe it was me.
I would enjoy finding out.
The seconds ticked by slowly, and just as I calculated, the knock at my door came. First, her assistant stepped inside, that name-Vincenzo -souring my mood instantly. But as much as I hated him being around her, I couldn't deny it. He was part of the deal. The man opened the door for her, stepping aside as she walked in.
And there she was.
She entered with an air of royalty, her presence as imposing as it was mesmerizing. No words were exchanged as she walked into the room, and for a split second, the air seemed to hold its breath. She was dressed in formal attire-simple yet elegant, nothing too revealing, but she was temptation personified. The way her suit hugged her body in all the right places made her look not just powerful, but irresistibly seductive.
She didn't look at me immediately; she barely acknowledged my existence as she strode into the room like she owned it. She moved with a grace that was unnerving, as though she could conquer everything and everyone in her path.
And then, with a mere flick of her wrist, she dismissed her assistant. Vincenzo nodded and left, closing the door behind him. The sound of the click was like a release for me, a subtle reminder that now, finally, we were alone.
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze not leaving her. "Please, have a seat," I said, my voice smooth, authoritative. She didn't waste time-she sat down across from me, maintaining the same air of aloofness she always carried.
And then she spoke. Her voice, direct, cutting through the silence like a blade. "So, Mr. Salvatore ," she began, her eyes locked on mine. "Why this collaboration deal?"
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "hmmmm" I said, letting the words linger. "Tell me, Miss Ashford, what do you think ?"
Her gaze didn't falter. "I know what you're doing. Keeping your enemies close-classic strategy," she replied coolly. She was sharp, intelligent. I could see it in her eyes, the mind working behind the words.
I chuckled darkly, my fingers tapping on the desk. "I admire your straightforwardness. Not many people can read me like you do."
She didn't smile at the compliment, didn't seem to care. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't need to read you. I know exactly what you want. The question is, what am I getting in return?"
I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a hushed tone, a little more intimate than it had been before. "What do you want?" I asked, my gaze now piercing through the calm exterior she wore. "I'm not offering just any deal, Miss Ashford. I'm offering a partnership. And with that partnership, you'll get everything you need. Power, control, and... more."
She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching slightly in amusement. "And what makes you think I want your power, Di carlo?" she asked, leaning back in her chair, her eyes still never leaving mine. "You think I need you? You're just another human ...ahem man playing his cards."
Her challenge was met with a sly smile on my part. "Maybe," I said, my voice lowering with each word. "But sometimes, Miss Ashford, people need what they don't realize they need. Power, wealth, influence-yes, you have those already. But sometimes, it's the things you don't have that drive you. And you need me to get it."
She didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned forward just slightly, her eyes still challenging, daring me to push her further. "And what do you get out of this?" she asked, her voice now a bit softer, more deliberate.
I moved a fraction closer to her, letting the space between us shrink, my breath mingling with the air between us. "I get exactly what I want," I murmured, my voice almost a whisper. "Your cooperation. Your trust. And maybe... something more."
For a moment, her eyes flickered, just the faintest sign of hesitation. But she didn't pull back. In fact, she sat there, unmoving, waiting to see what I would do next. I could sense her curiosity, her caution, and beneath it, her desire to know just how far I was willing to push.
I could feel the tension in the room tightening like a wire ready to snap. I wasn't going to back down. Not now. Not with her.
"Are you always this forward, Di carlo?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I was so close to her now that I could almost feel the heat radiating from her. My lips were just inches from hers, my breath catching as I spoke. "You think this is a game for me ?" I asked, my voice a mix of amusement and something far more dangerous. "then I assure you, Miss Ashford, this is far from a game."
And then, as if testing me, she leaned in slightly, her eyes locking onto mine, her breath mingling with mine. There was no fear in her gaze, no sign of retreat. She was waiting. Waiting for me to make the next move.
My lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. "So, tell me," I whispered, my voice just barely audible, "what's your next move, Miss Ashford?"
The moment she broke our gaze, my chest felt lighter yet strangely hollow, as if her eyes had tethered me to something tangible, something real. She stood and began tracing the contours of my office with her fingers, her touch delicate yet deliberate. Her eyes moved over every corner, every line of the space, as though she were mapping it in her mind.
Her voice, calm and unyielding, broke the silence. "I don't want power, money, or fame," she said, her tone a mix of amusement and sincerity. "Those things mean nothing to me. I'll let you know what I want when the time is right."
Her words intrigued me, but more than that, they frustrated me. She was always just out of reach, her thoughts locked away behind an enigmatic smile.
She turned to face me again, her expression unreadable but her presence commanding. "You'll get what you want," she continued, her gaze piercing mine. "This collaboration will benefit you more than you realize."
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers steepled under my chin, studying her. "Then why agree to it, if not for the usual reasons?"
She didn't answer immediately, and when she did, her words were vague yet final. "Because it's necessary."
I nodded, masking the flicker of irritation her cryptic nature sparked in me. The truth was, the collaboration itself was secondary to my real motive-being close to her. But I didn't need to say that aloud.
We spent the next hour discussing the details of the deal. Her sharp mind and ability to negotiate left no room for loopholes, and I found myself both impressed and slightly irked by how she controlled the conversation. By the time we concluded, she stood, ready to leave.
Before she could make her exit, I spoke. "Join me for lunch," I said, my tone casual, though the invitation carried weight.
She hesitated, her eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of curiosity, maybe even amusement, as she considered my offer. Finally, she nodded. "Okay."
Before we could leave, there was a knock at the door, and her assistant, Vincenzo , entered. I narrowed my eyes at his impeccable timing.
"What is it?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral, though my irritation simmered beneath the surface.
He looked at her, his expression calm yet attentive. She spoke about our lunch plans, and I watched him closely, expecting annoyance or disapproval. But instead, his expression shifted to mild surprise ?
I clenched my jaw, jealousy spiking through me as she dismissed him with a simple command to arrange her car.
Before he could leave, I interrupted. "If you don't mind," I said, addressing her directly, "I'll drop you off myself."
Both of them turned to me simultaneously, their expressions almost comically synchronized. He left without protest, but I couldn't shake the lingering question. "How did he know you were going to call for him?"
She seemed momentarily surprised by the question but recovered quickly, her voice even as she replied. "That's why he's my assistant. He knows everything about me."
Her words cut deeper than I cared to admit. That level of intimacy between them was something I didn't like. I pushed the thought aside and led her to my private car collection.
Her eyes scanned the rows of gleaming vehicles, and though she tried to hide it, I saw the flicker of appreciation in her gaze. "Impressive," she said finally, her tone cool.
I chose my favorite car and opened the door for her. She paused, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Chivalry, di carlo? I'm shocked."
I smirked at her sass. "I have my moments," I replied smoothly.
She slid into the passenger seat, her movements graceful, and I closed the door behind her before taking my place behind the wheel.
We drove to one of the city's top restaurants-one of mine, of course. The manager recognized me instantly and hurried to arrange a private table for us.
As we sat, she scanned the menu and ordered without hesitation. I couldn't help but notice her choices-hearty, unapologetic. None of the dainty salads or diet-conscious dishes I might have expected. She was different in every way.
For the first time in a long while, I found myself hesitant to speak, uncertain how to bridge the silence between us. It was unnerving, this unfamiliar sensation of nerves.
She saved me the trouble by starting the conversation herself. "Tell me something about yourself," she said, her tone curious but guarded.
I leaned back, considering her request. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything," she replied, her gaze steady. "What do you enjoy, what drives you?"
I gave her honest answers-hobbies, interests, little pieces of myself I rarely shared. As I spoke, her expression softened slightly, as though she were seeing a part of me .
"What about you?" I asked, turning the question back on her. "What do you like?"
She hesitated, her eyes flickering with something unspoken. "Not much," she admitted finally. "But I like the night sky here."
"Here?" I echoed, intrigued. "What do you mean by that?"
Her lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. "In the city, you can't see the stars. The lights drown them out. But in the hills , away from all that... you can see everything."
I nodded, filing that little piece of her away in my mind. She wasn't the power-hungry, fame-driven woman people might assume. She was a girl who valued simple things-a quiet sky full of stars.
But even in her simplicity, her presence was powerful, magnetic.
The lunch had gone surprisingly well, though my thoughts were anything but calm. She was an enigma, and every moment spent in her presence only heightened my intrigue. Now, as we left the restaurant and she gave me her address, I nodded without question.
Driving through the streets, I was acutely aware of her beside me. She sat with perfect composure, her hands resting on her lap, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. Her demeanor was maddeningly indifferent, as if sitting in the car with me-me, Lucifer-was the most mundane thing in the world.
For the first time, I felt a twinge of something foreign: frustration. Women usually couldn't keep their eyes off me, even when they tried to play it cool. But she? She didn't so much as glance in my direction. It wasn't indifference born of pretense; it was genuine.
I kept my eyes on the road, though my thoughts were a storm. What was it about her that made her so untouchable?
Then, out of nowhere, her body language shifted. She straightened in her seat, her eyes darting to the rearview mirrors with sharp focus.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice breaking the silence.
She didn't answer immediately, her eyes scanning the road behind us. Then she spoke, her tone low and clipped. "You're going to be attacked."
Her words were so calm, so matter-of-fact, that I almost laughed. "Attacked?" I repeated, glancing at her. "By who?"
Before she could answer, a loud crack echoed through the air. My instincts kicked in as I realized what it was: a gunshot.
My car was bulletproof, so the shot didn't penetrate, but the sound was unmistakable. My hands tightened on the wheel as I quickly scanned the mirrors, spotting a black SUV trailing us.
I cursed under my breath. "Of all the times," I muttered, huffing inwardly at the sheer inconvenience of it. It wasn't the first time one of my enemies had tried to pull a stunt like this, but why now?
What struck me most was her reaction-or lack thereof. She didn't flinch, didn't panic. She sat with an eerie calm, her eyes still focused on the mirrors.
"How did you know?" I asked, my voice laced with suspicion and curiosity.
She turned her gaze to me for the first time since we'd gotten in the car. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes holding something I couldn't quite place. "They've been following us since we left the restaurant," she said simply. "I noticed them in the reflection of the glass door."
I blinked, stunned by her observation. I had bodyguards and security teams trained to notice these things, and yet she, sitting calmly through lunch, had seen what I hadn't.
"Impressive," I said, my tone begrudgingly admiring.
Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.
Another shot rang out, and I gritted my teeth. "Hold on," I said, my voice firm as I gripped the wheel and swerved into a side street, trying to lose them.
She remained calm, her gaze sharp as she assessed the situation. "There's another car ahead," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
"How the hell do you-" I began, but before I could finish, she leaned forward, pointing to a narrow alleyway on the right. "Turn there."
I hesitated for half a second before following her instructions, veering into the alley and accelerating. The narrow walls of the buildings on either side made it a tight squeeze, but it was enough to put distance between us and the pursuing cars.
When we emerged onto a quieter street, I glanced at her, my heart still pounding. "You're full of surprises," I said, my tone half-amused, half-serious.
She shrugged as if it were nothing. "You don't survive long in this world without paying attention."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. There was more to her than I'd realized-more than her beauty, her sharp mind, her unyielding presence.
For the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of something unfamiliar: respect.
And perhaps, something more.