C34 Flare In The Dark

Dante leaned back in his leather chair, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the glossy wood of his desk. The file Mario had handed him lay open in front of him, numbers and projections sprawled across the page, carefully laid out for his review.

Mario had done his due diligence as always. The proposed expansion was sound, logical, and potentially very lucrative. Any other night, Dante would have been fully absorbed, his mind preoccupied with evaluating the risks and analysing the benefits. But tonight, even the pull of business wasn’t enough to drown out the restlessness simmering inside him.

Practical as ever, Mario had not mentioned anything about his outburst earlier. He had gone straight into business even though they both knew his action earlier was out of character for him.

He scowled, annoyed at himself. How had he let this happen? He was a man who prided himself on control, someone who managed both his empire and his emotions with an iron grip.

And yet, here he was, plagued by thoughts of a girl who barely reached his shoulder.

A girl who knew absolutely nothing about his world, and who was foolish enough to look him dead in the eyes with that hateful stare.

A girl pregnant for fuck-knows-who!

"Fuck!" he muttered as he looked at the door Mario had just passed through.

His COO was needed for something and he couldn't keep him waiting on a boss who was barely focusing anyway.

The memory of it still grated on him.

No one dared look at him like that. Especially not her.

“Dante, you’re losing your edge,” he muttered to himself, slamming the file shut.

He felt an urge to escape, to walk the streets, to find anything that would take the edge off. He considered drinking, letting the sharp burn of whiskey soothe the gnawing tension, but quickly discarded the thought.

Drowning himself in alcohol was a sign of weakness, and he was no weak man.

Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the bristle of frustration beneath his fingers. “Maybe I should just sleep with her and get it over with,” he muttered under his breath.

If he could satisfy this...whatever it was that Annabelle had sparked in him, maybe then he’d finally be free of it.

He wasn’t one for personal entanglements, but he was also not one for self-denial when he wanted something.

And Dante Cazador had definitely found himself wanting Annabelle Whitaker.

He leaned back in his chair, a bitter smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Angelo would find her eventually.

She was hiding, but she wasn’t skilled enough to stay hidden from a man like him. Angelo could track a shadow in the dead of night, and for all her bravery, Annabelle was nowhere near prepared to evade someone like him.

Unlike her sister’s case.

Dante’s face darkened, his jaw clenching. It grated on him that they hadn’t yet managed to locate the younger Whitaker. As Angelo said, Jane Phildee must have taken the girl far away from Acdia or something else had happened.

Somewhere out there was the one person who held Annabelle’s total loyalty, and for all his resources, he couldn’t get his hands on her.

He knew his consigliere would be working on it already, though he had not said anything after that report that afternoon.

His mind turned, calculating the angles. If he found her sister first, he could hold it over Annabelle. She’d be indebted to him, maybe even look at him differently.

“Not that I need her gratitude,” he muttered, forcing a dismissive scowl into his face. But he didn’t fool himself. She’d looked at him like he was some kind of monster that night.

With those eyes wide with shock and barely concealed hatred.

Hell, she had fainted on him.

That look had gotten under his skin, irritating him like a thorn he couldn’t pull free.

Sighing, he glanced around his office, a fortress of black leather and polished mahogany. The walls seemed to close in on him. “Damn it,” he muttered, standing up abruptly. He needed to do something, go somewhere.

Business was going fine. Mikhail had cleaned up the Virelli mess smoothly, punishing the idiot who’d dared act against them in Dante’s territory.

It had been a productive day, everything in his world functioning like the well-oiled machine he’d built. He should feel satisfied, powerful, and content. Yet all he felt was a restlessness that refused to die down.

He gritted his teeth, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked out. He was well aware of what had started this.

A slip of a girl with a mind sharper than she let on, a girl who had somehow wormed her way into his thoughts. He’d pushed the memory of women aside for months now, precisely over a year, ever since Isabella’s death.

The memory of his guilt over her death tightened in his chest like a vice, a reminder of what his inaction had cost him.

He’d been enjoying himself, oblivious to the danger she was in, and that night had changed him. Since then, he’d kept his desires on a tight leash, celibacy serving as his penance, a daily reminder of what his negligence had cost.

But then Annabelle had come crashing into his life, and his control had started slipping. He hadn’t been with anyone in over a year, yet she’d somehow reignited a part of him he’d thought long dead. His attraction to her was unwanted, irritating, but undeniable. Maybe if he proved it was nothing more than a fleeting obsession, he could finally put it to rest.

Decision made, he headed to his strip club. He needed a distraction, a way to silence the thoughts churning in his mind. As he entered, the bass from the music vibrated on the floor, the dim lights casting the place in shades of crimson and indigo. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, mingling with the smell of whiskey and cigar smoke.

One could see bodies twisting on the stage and men salivating in their fantasies.

None of them would dare do anything without consent though. His girls were sensible enough to take care of themselves. Dante wouldn't have it otherwise.

“Mr. Cazador,” the manager greeted him with a respectful nod. “Good to see you here.”

Dante waved him off. “Just here to clear my head. Send over the two best girls you have tonight.”

The manager nodded, barely concealing his surprise, and hurried off to find the requested company. Dante made his way to his private booth while his men hung back.

Moments later, two women appeared, both striking in their way, draped in sequined two-pieces that showed off their assets. “Long time no see, boss,” one of them purred, her red lips curving into a smile as she leaned closer.

He nodded absently. Then he gave them a silent command with a tilt of his head.

But as they started twisting and turning in a provocative dance with their perfume heavy in the air, all he felt was a growing sense of detachment. Their practised touches and polished smiles did nothing to stir him.

One of the women grew bolder as she got close to him.

Then she did her best to stir him up with her banging body.

He watched her, looking at her but seeing nothing special.

"This was supposed to work, wasn’t it?" These were his best, the ones who never failed to get him in the right frame of mind.

But nothing. No spark, no reaction, just a hollow sense of annoyance.

“Enough,” he muttered, cutting off their rhythm. “Go on, get out of here.”

They exchanged confused glances, a flash of disappointment crossing their faces, but they didn’t argue.

Within moments, they were gone, leaving him alone again in the dimly lit room, the distant bass of music vibrating through him.

He cursed under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. What was wrong with him?

Frustrated, he pushed himself up, deciding to leave. But as he made his way toward the exit, something caught his eye; a flash of fiery red, standing out in the low-lit club.

A woman was leaning against the bar. Her long, coppery hair cascaded down her shoulders, catching the dim light like a flare in the darkness.

Dante changed his direction.