More Than a Deal

The night lingered longer than Sienna had expected, the heaviness of the gathering pressing in on her with every passing hour. Dante’s presence was inescapable, his voice echoing through the room as he handled business with the same calm, calculated precision she had come to expect from him. Yet, through every conversation, every deal that was struck, Sienna couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting. That the air between them—between her and Dante—was thickening, becoming charged in a way she didn’t know how to handle.

The words he had said to her earlier in the garden replayed in her mind. You’re part of something much bigger than yourself.

But what did that really mean? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that being near him left her restless, her thoughts tumbling over themselves, as though trying to find some sense of control in a world that was slipping further out of her grasp.

As the evening wore on, the tension in the room never quite subsided. Sienna tried to focus on the people around her, but her mind kept drifting back to Dante, to the way he moved, how he commanded respect without a single word more than necessary. He wasn’t just a mafia boss. He was something else entirely—something dangerous. And yet, there was an allure to him that she couldn’t deny, one she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried.

Eventually, the night wound down, and the guests began to file out, their conversations dying down as they made their way toward the door. Sienna stood near the exit, watching them, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten.

As the last of the guests left, Dante appeared at her side, his presence as commanding as ever. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his eyes scanning the room before settling on her. For a brief moment, she thought he might say something about her behavior, about how she'd kept her distance, how she'd barely spoken to him all night.

But instead, he simply leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You did well tonight," he murmured, the praise low and almost intimate.

Sienna stiffened. "I didn’t do anything. I just sat there."

Dante chuckled, the sound dark and smooth. "Exactly. And that’s what made the difference. You didn’t draw attention, you didn’t cause a scene. You played your part."

Her chest tightened at his words. Part of her wanted to argue, to say that she wasn’t a part to be played, that she was a person. But she knew better than to challenge him on that front. She’d learned that lesson well enough by now.

Before she could respond, Dante stepped back, taking a moment to look her over. His eyes traced the line of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, and for a second, she felt exposed, like he was seeing something in her that she couldn’t hide.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, his voice quieter now, the edge of command replaced with something else. Something almost… personal.

Sienna felt a flush rise to her cheeks, but she quickly suppressed it, forcing her eyes to meet his. “I’m just here because I have to be.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he replied, his tone softer now, almost teasing. “You might surprise yourself.”

The words hit her harder than she expected, and she swallowed, suddenly feeling a strange sense of vulnerability in the pit of her stomach. Dante had a way of making her question everything she thought she knew about herself, about her choices. He had a way of twisting everything, turning the world on its head with just a few words.

Before she could respond, Dante’s gaze darkened, his expression shifting into something more serious. "I think it's time we have a conversation, just the two of us. In private."

Sienna’s pulse quickened, a sense of unease settling over her. She wasn’t sure what this conversation was going to be about, but she knew it wouldn’t be anything simple. It never was with him.

“Where?” she asked, her voice betraying none of the nerves she felt.

“Follow me,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll show you.”

Dante led her through the winding halls of the mansion, the low lights casting long shadows on the walls. They moved in silence, the tension thick between them, as if the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of them in this quiet space.

When they finally arrived at a large, elegant study at the far end of the hall, Dante closed the door behind them with a soft click. Sienna glanced around the room—the leather-bound books lining the shelves, the rich dark wood of the desk, the plush chairs by the fireplace. It was a space that spoke of power, of wealth, and of control. But as her gaze flickered back to Dante, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.

He was standing by the fireplace now, his hands resting casually in his pockets as he studied her, his gaze unwavering.

“You’ve been distant tonight,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Why?”

Sienna hesitated, unsure how to respond. She had to be careful. Dante didn’t ask questions unless he already knew the answers. He was probing, searching for something beneath the surface. But what did he expect her to say? That she was struggling with feelings she didn’t want to have? That every time she thought of Ethan, she saw his face—and then, just as quickly, Dante’s face took its place? That she didn’t know who she was anymore?

“I’ve been fine,” she said at last, her voice steady, though she could feel the lie hanging in the air. “Just… tired, I guess.”

“Tired?” Dante repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’re not fooling me, Sienna.”

His words were sharp, and Sienna felt a pang of frustration. She was trapped in a game she didn’t understand, in a world she didn’t want to be a part of. And no matter how hard she tried to keep up the facade, Dante always saw through it.

“What do you want from me, Dante?” she finally asked, her voice hoarse, the question more vulnerable than she had intended.

He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. His eyes never left hers as he leaned in, his presence overwhelming.

“What I want,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, “is for you to stop pretending.”

Sienna’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to pull away, to step back, but something about the intensity of his gaze kept her rooted to the spot. Something in the way he was looking at her, the way he was slowly closing the space between them, made it impossible to think clearly.

“I’m not pretending,” she said, though even she didn’t believe the words anymore.

Dante’s smirk was slow, knowing, as he took the final step toward her. “We’ll see about that.”

And in that moment, as he stood inches away from her, Sienna realized that the line between defiance and surrender was closer than she had ever imagined.