Chapter 2 - The Lion's Den
Hook: "You think I brought you here to protect you from them? No, Ava. I brought you here to protect you from me."
The sleek, armored black Maybach glided through the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan like a phantom. Inside, the privacy glass was up, sealing Ava and Dante into a world of leather, expensive cologne, and high-stakes tension.
Ava sat as far into the corner of the plush seat as her curves would allow, hyper-aware of the ruined, wet state of her clothes against the pristine interior. Dante sat beside her, effortlessly relaxed, pouring two fingers of amber bourbon into a crystal glass.
"Drink," he commanded softly, holding the glass out to her.
"I don't drink on the job, Mr. Russo," Ava replied, trying to maintain a shred of professional dignity despite the fact that her blazer was ruined and her ankle was swelling by the minute.
Dante raised an eyebrow, a dark glint in his eye. "You don't have a job anymore, remember? I believe your manager made that quite clear before I put him out of business." He leaned forward, placing the glass in her hand, his fingers lingering against hers. "And the name is Dante. Use it."
Ava took a sip, the burning alcohol warming her chest. "Why did you do that back there? You don't know me. People like you don't look at people like me unless you want something."
Dante leaned back, looking at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His eyes traced the lines of her face, down to the soft curves of her body that her wet clothes clung to. "People like me know exactly what we want the moment we see it, Ava. And I don't like seeing what's mine mistreated."
"I'm not yours," she whispered, her heart racing.
"Not yet," he murmured, his voice laced with a dark promise.
The car pulled up to a massive, heavily guarded iron gate in the exclusive hills outside the city. A sprawling, gothic estate loomed in the darkness—Dante's private fortress.
When the car stopped, Dante didn't wait for his men. He opened the door, lifted Ava into his arms once more, and carried her through the grand entrance of the mansion. A team of silent, professional staff immediately moved into action, bringing medical supplies, fresh clothes, and ice.
Dante placed her gently on a massive velvet sofa in his private study, a room lined with ancient books, dark mahogany, and the distinct aura of power. A private doctor quickly wrapped Ava's ankle, confirming it was just a mild sprain, before bowing and exiting the room.
Left alone with Dante again, Ava felt the sheer weight of her situation. She was in the home of New York's most feared underground figure.
"There are clothes upstairs for you. Silk, your size," Dante said, standing by the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows across his sharp jawline.
Ava frowned. "My size? How could you possibly know my size? And why would you have women's clothes here?" A sudden pang of jealousy, sharp and unexpected, hit her.
Dante walked over, leaning over the couch, trapping her between his arms. The scent of woodsmoke and expensive amber washed over her. "I know your size because I have eyes, Ava. And those clothes were bought an hour ago, delivered by my assistants the moment I decided you weren't going back to your apartment tonight."
"You planned this?" Ava gasped.
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"I saw a beautiful woman being suffocated by a world too small for her," Dante said, his thumb reaching out to gently trace her lower lip. "Celeste Waverly is a snake. But she’s a snake with powerful friends. By defending you tonight, I made you a target for my enemies. You stay here, where you are safe."
He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "But remember this, Ava... the wolves outside are nothing compared to the lion inside this house. Don't play with fire unless you intend to burn."
