The Dangerous Lover or The Mafia's Boyfriend

‎Elijah's patience was already running thin, and Dante Moretti wasn't helping.

‎The man had waltzed in, taken what Elijah wanted, and now had the audacity to sit across from him with that infuriatingly smug smirk.

‎Elijah leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "So, you dragged me here just to gloat?"

‎Dante tapped his fingers on the table, his expression unreadable. "Not quite."

‎"Then get to the point," Elijah said, voice cool. "I don't like playing games."

‎Dante chuckled, low and amused. "See, that's where we differ, Sinclair. I love games." He leaned forward, locking eyes with Elijah. "Especially when they involve interesting opponents."

‎Elijah refused to look away, refused to be intimidated. He'd dealt with cutthroat businessmen before, Dante Moretti was no different. "If you're looking for a business partner, I'm afraid I don't work with criminals."

‎Dante's smirk didn't waver. "You say that, and yet you're here. Negotiating. With me."

‎Elijah clenched his jaw. He hated that the bastard had a point.

‎"Let's cut the bullshit, Moretti. You stole..."

‎"Acquired."

‎Elijah's glare sharpened. "You acquired property that was supposed to be mine. So, what do you want?"

‎Dante studied him for a moment, then exhaled, as if mildly disappointed. "I expected more from you, Sinclair. Thought you'd at least try to figure it out."

‎Elijah's patience snapped. "If I wanted to deal with mind games, I'd go back to my office and negotiate stock shares with a room full of idiots." He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "This was a waste of time."

‎Dante remained seated, still relaxed, still in control. "Sit down, Sinclair."

‎Elijah raised an eyebrow. "No."

‎That single word changed the air between them. The men around them stiffened, glancing at Dante as if waiting for him to react. But instead of anger, something else flickered across his face; amusement.

‎Dante exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You really don't know when to be afraid, do you?"

‎Elijah held his ground. "I don't waste my energy fearing men who overcompensate with power."

‎The room went dead silent.

‎The nervous businessman from before visibly paled. One of Dante's men; a tall, broad figure dressed in black shifted slightly, as if preparing to move.

‎And Dante?

‎Dante smiled.

‎A slow, lazy, dangerous smile.

‎The kind that usually came before someone ended up dead.

‎"Careful, Sinclair," Dante murmured, his voice smooth but laced with something sharp. "You're playing with fire."

‎Elijah smirked. "Then I guess you'll just have to try and burn me."

‎For a long moment, neither of them moved. The tension stretched tight, thick and almost suffocating.

‎Then, Dante pushed back his chair and stood. The motion was slow, deliberate. He was taller than Elijah not by much, but enough that it forced Elijah to tilt his chin slightly to meet his gaze.

‎"You're lucky I like you," Dante murmured, voice low enough that only Elijah could hear.

‎"I don't recall asking for your approval."

‎Dante chuckled. "No, I suppose you didn't."

‎The way he looked at Elijah then, it wasn't just interest. It wasn't just amusement. It was something far more dangerous.

‎A challenge.

‎An invitation.

‎Dante clapped a hand on Elijah's shoulder, a seemingly friendly gesture that held just enough weight to remind him of the power difference between them. "This was fun, Sinclair. We should do it again sometime."

‎Elijah shrugged off his hand. "I'll pass."

‎Dante only grinned, unaffected. "Oh, I don't think you will."

‎And with that, he turned and walked away, his men following without question.

‎Elijah stood frozen for a moment, his heartbeat annoyingly uneven.

‎Dante Moretti was a problem. A dangerous, smug, irritating problem.

‎And worst of all Elijah had the distinct, gut-wrenching feeling that this wasn't the last time they'd cross paths.

‎In fact, something told him this was only the beginning.