Elena didn’t expect to see him again so soon. Not outside of the café. Not standing in front of her apartment building like he belonged there.

  Dominic Moretti leaned against the black car parked at the curb, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding a cigarette he hadn’t even lit. His eyes found hers the second she stepped out.

  “You shouldn’t walk home alone,” he said, voice low and smooth, almost scolding.

  She stopped short. “You followed me?”

  “I waited,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

  “That doesn’t make it less… weird.”

  He gave a half-smile, like her defiance amused him. “Maybe. But it makes it safer.”

  Elena crossed her arms. “Why are you really here, Dominic?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walked up to her, slow and unhurried, like a predator that knew exactly when to strike. The air between them thickened as he closed the space.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That usually means trouble.”

  “For you or for me?” she asked, heart hammering.

  His eyes dropped to her lips for just a second. “Both.”

  They stood inches apart now. No one else around. The quiet hum of the streetlamps buzzed faintly above them, but everything else faded—his gaze anchoring her in place.

  “I don’t play games, Elena,” he said. “If I want something, I take it.”

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  A thrill danced down her spine, even though the words should’ve scared her. Maybe they did, in a way. But it wasn’t fear that made her pulse race—it was anticipation.

  “And what if I don’t want to be taken?” she asked, her voice tighter than she meant it to be.

  His smile was slow, dark, dangerous. “Then I wait. Until you do.”

  She should’ve stepped back. She knew that. But instead, she looked up at him and asked the one question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to.

  “Why me?”

  Dominic’s eyes softened just slightly—only slightly.

  “You’re real,” he said. “You look me in the eye like I’m just a man, not a monster. And you have no idea how rare that is.”

  Elena swallowed hard. Something about those words struck deep. Like he wasn’t just flirting—he was giving her a glimpse of something hidden beneath all that danger and power.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, even though her breath shook a little.

  “You should be,” he murmured.

  And then… he reached out.

  Not to touch her skin, but to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed the edge of her cheek, and even that light contact burned like fire.

  She closed her eyes for a second, just breathing him in—his cologne, the warmth of his presence, the quiet intensity that always followed him like a storm waiting to break.

  When she opened her eyes, his were already fixed on hers.

  “I should go,” she whispered.

  “You should,” he agreed, but made no move to leave.

  Seconds passed. Long, drawn-out seconds that curled like smoke around them.

  Finally, she stepped back. “Goodnight, Dominic.”

  He let her go, but not before saying, “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. They both knew she’d be expecting him.

  ---

  Elena didn’t sleep much that night.

  She lay in bed, heart racing, the memory of his voice, his nearness, the almost-touch of his hand playing on repeat in her mind. Her fingers brushed the spot on her cheek where he’d touched her, and a shiver ran down her arms.

  She didn’t want this.

  Or maybe… she did.

  There was a heat growing between them, one that danced just on the edge of something explosive. But she couldn’t afford to fall into that fire. He was danger dressed in silk. A man with shadows under his skin.

  And yet, she couldn’t stay away.

  ---

  The next day, he returned. Of course he did.

  Same time. Same table. Same dark eyes that watched her like they saw right through every wall she tried to build.

  But this time, he didn’t just watch.

  When her shift ended, he was already waiting outside, hands in his pockets.

  “Walk with me,” he said.

  And before she could say no, she found herself moving beside him, the city streets stretching out in front of them.

  They didn’t speak much.

  Just the rhythm of footsteps. The occasional brush of their shoulders. The way his presence made everything around her blur.

  At one point, they stopped in front of a quiet shop window, the glow reflecting them both. He turned to her, studying her face like it held secrets.

  “I don’t want to rush you,” he said. “But I won’t pretend I don’t want more.”

  She met his gaze. “More of what?”

  “You,” he said simply. “All of you.”

  Her breath caught again. That pull between them wasn’t just chemistry—it was gravity.

  But still… she wasn’t ready to fall.

  Not yet.

  So she smiled, soft and a little unsure, and said, “We’ll see.”

  And the way his eyes lit up—like that was a challenge—told her this was far from over.

  This was just the beginning.