C130 Loser's Place

Antonia stepped cautiously into the dimly lit room, her sharp heels clicking against the tiled floor.

The sound echoed ominously, and she grimaced, hating the vulnerability it betrayed.

Her black silk blouse clung to her figure, paired with tailored trousers that ended just above her sleek stilettos.

A bold gold chain sat at her throat, the only splash of brightness in her otherwise shadowy attire. She was a picture of elegance and authority, but even her poise couldn’t mask the faint tension humming beneath her skin.

The room was sparse, with a single overhead bulb casting a sickly yellow glow.

The faint smell of mildew lingered, mingling with the faint coppery tang of dried blood.

A detail Antonia noted with distaste.

She was used to making powerful moves in grander spaces, where polished marble and expensive wood told stories of wealth and influence.

This was different.

This was desperation.

She took a steadying breath.

Her men were positioned just outside.

If this bastard tried anything, they would be in here within seconds.

The thought bolstered her courage, and she straightened her shoulders as the shadowy figure across the room turned to face her.

“Well, aren’t you brave,” the man drawled, his voice like sandpaper.

He leaned against a battered table, his posture casual but his dark eyes alert. “Most wouldn’t dare step into a room with me alone.”

Antonia raised an unimpressed brow, letting her lips curl into a smirk. “Save the theatrics. You must be Tad.”

The man gave a low chuckle, his teeth flashing briefly in the dim light. “And you must be the infamous Antonia Virelli. I’ve heard about you.”

“And I’ve heard about you,” she shot back, her tone laced with mockery. “A no-good, small-town piece of shit who doesn’t know when to stay in his lane.”

Tad’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes sharpened. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, sweetheart. It’s dangerous.”

Antonia stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her heels ground against the floor like a predator’s claws. “Did you have something to do with Dante’s disappearance?”

Tad tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Why do you care?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her voice dropped to a menacing purr. “Let me make something clear. You can try to bring him down a peg. Hell, take the whole damn city if you think you’ve got the balls. But Dante’s body…” she jabbed a manicured finger toward him, “...is mine. If you’ve harmed him, I’ll carve your name into his bullet before I fire it.”

Tad held up his hands in mock surrender, amusement flickering in his expression. “Relax. I have no intention of killing him. I want what belongs to me…and the city.”

Annabelle.

Antonia bit the inside of her cheek to keep her composure.

She didn’t trust him for a second. But for now, she’d play along.

“And if Dante comes back?” she asked, her voice syrupy sweet. “You think you’ll just… walk away unscathed?”

Tad’s grin widened. “I’m not worried about Dante.”

Antonia laughed, a light, derisive sound. “You should be.”

The tension in the room thickened as Tad’s expression darkened. “Do you think he’s still alive, Antonia?” he asked casually, his tone at odds with the weight of the question.

Antonia crossed her arms, feigning boredom. “I have no idea.” She smirked. “But if you’re so big and bad, why are you sitting here in the shadows like a rat? Why don’t you take the city now?”

Tad’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

Instead, he chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

“I like you, Virelli. Let’s cut a deal.”

When Antonia finally left the room, a chill raced down her spine.

The faint smell of Tad’s cheap cologne lingered on her skin, mingling with her rising unease. She’d seen dangerous men before, but there was something about Tad that felt… wrong.

Her research on him had painted him as petty and impulsive, but this?

This was a different beast entirely.

Still, she doubted Dante was gone for good. If anyone could claw his way back from the brink, it was him.

And when he did, she would be there as always.

His steadfast ally, ready to help him rebuild what he’d lost.

But first, she needed to deal with Annabelle.

Antonia’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she thought of the woman.

The naive little doll wouldn’t stand a chance against her.

Annabelle was nothing more than a distraction.

An irritating blip in Dante’s otherwise brilliant life.

As she slid into the back seat of her car, Antonia pulled out her phone and barked an address to the driver.

She needed to blow off some steam, and there was no better place for that than the pulsating beats of a high-end club.

She smiled with anticipation in her blood as she stepped out in front of the club.

She cut straight to the front of the line and the bouncers let her in immediately while some losers grumbled in the back.

If she wasn’t in such a good mood after the deal she had cut that night, she would have taught those fools a lesson.

“Losers should learn to stay in their place after all.”

But she was in a good mood that night and just needed the excitement of a night.

Maye she might even choose a good stud to fuck for the night.

As she blew a drooling idiot a lascivious kiss, she headed straight for the bar where the bartender immediately ignored the people in front of him to attend to her immediately.

The club was everything she needed.

Flashing neon lights, pounding bass, and the intoxicating swirl of bodies moving in sync.

After downing two quick shots of her favourite, Antonia stepped onto the dance floor.

Her designer heels clicked against the tiles as she threw herself into the rhythm.

She eyed the panting fools around her waiting for a chance of her corking her finger to any of them.

After all, no fool would dare to approach Antonia Virelli without an invitation.

For now, she let them pant as she cut a swatch through the space that had been created for her on the dance floor.

For now, she would dance the night away, celebrate her calculated moves, and wait for the game to play out.

Tad’s obsession.

Annabelle’s naivety.

And Dante’s inevitable return, for she was sure that he would be back.

“He wouldn’t let something as small as a bomb stop him,” she thought with confidence as the music picked up.

Everything was falling into place.

And when the dust settled, she would be the one standing at Dante’s side, exactly where she belonged.

The thought was a comforting balm to her pride as she lost herself in the music.

The scent of ambition and alcohol swirled around her like a heady perfume.

Like an imperious queen granting a serf an audience, she corked her finger at a buff guy in a biker’s jacket and wild tattoos.

Just perfect.