Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 : The Dante Valentino

~ Eve Moretti

The sun shone through the curtains, casting a soft light on the little bedroom I called my own. It wasn't anything spectacular, a bed, dresser, and shelves, but it was more than I had when I woke up with no memory and a name that didn't resonate. I did not even recognize my own face.

All I knew was that, I was going to die and I was saved by a good Samaritan woman who took care of me until I was well. I get flashbacks of being in a car, hurt and bleeding and being pushed out of the car ruthlessly. I was left to die. I did not know why or who killed me. I am alive now, hoping to remember my past.

Eve Moretti.

That's who I was now. That woman who rescued me was kind enough to let me use her last name.

The woman who saved me; Lina Moretti, would always say. "You were given a second chance," she'd said the first morning I woke up in her care. "So you need a new name. Something beautiful. Like Eve."

I didn't fight. I couldn't. I didn't know who I was, where I came from. My body bore the marks of something violent, something cruel. But my mind was an empty space. No family. No past. No memories. Just nightmares that would sometimes wake me up in a cold sweat.

I met Lina in the kitchen after a hasty shower. She was humming a tune, turning pancakes, the smell of vanilla and butter was familiar, it filled the kitchen. I don't think I would ever get used to it, it was like the first time every time. Her smile was motherly and warm. I owe my life to her.

"You'll be late," she said, giving me a plate.

" I've got time." I took a bite of it, savoring the taste. She always cooked like it was the one good thing left in the world.

"I'll cut your hair for you when you get back. We can't have it grow out, can we?" Lina said, grinning.

I nodded. Lina had helped me trim my long hair, short after I felt better. It transformed my looks different from the time I just woke up. My killers, if they were looking for me, would not be able to recognize me.

By twelve noon, I had on my usual work clothes—black pants, button-down shirt, and flats. Nothing fancy. Enough to pass as a bar waitress in a downtown pub that received its share of drunks, tourists, and wealthy men with too much time on their hands. I always did afternoons in the pub.

But today was. different.

The moment I stepped into the bar, the air was electric. Employees stood a little straighter, moved a little faster. The manager, Marco, was pacing by the door with sweat already wetting his face.

He clapped his hands, calling all those around him. "Listen up, everybody! No mess-ups today. We've got a very important visitor arriving in a while. I don't care what he tells you to do—you do it. No questions, no attitude. Got it?"

There was murmuring.

"Who is it?" someone complained beside me.

Marco didn't reply. He just ran a hand over his face and left.

We returned to our stations. I was behind the bar, polishing glasses, when the door opened and the temperature seemed to go ten degrees lower. The sound of boots, slow and commanding, came next. I half-turned to see him walk in.

Dante Valentino.

The man beside me whispered his name as though it represented something—and it did. Even I, sensed the importance that his name carried.

Feared. Powerful. Untouchable. The name itself was enough to silence a room.

Dante towered, dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit that hugged his muscular build like a second skin. His dark hair was brushed back, not a strand out of place. Chiseled jawline, chiseled cheekbones, lips twisted into a hint of a smirk as though he was aware the world groveled at his feet. His eyes—icy grey—swept the room, calculating. Dangerous.

He walked by me, and our eyes met briefly.

A shock? Fear? Something indescribable happened to me.

I turned away quickly, my heart racing inside me.

I thought he was gone when I turned around.

But he wasn't.

He was standing right in front of me. He must have caught me staring hard at him.

I inhaled sharply, almost stepping back and falling over. His smirk increased slightly, then he turned to Marco.

"Have her serve me."

Marco didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir."

Everyone's eyes focused on me with shock and some kind of secretive sympathy. Some murmured words of warning as I braced myself and did what I was instructed to do.

"Be careful," one of the servers whispered. "Just do what he wants."

I wasn't sure what they meant exactly, but something inside of me would not just agree to that. I was a server. Not a pet. Not a plaything. I must have been defiant in the past.

I carried the tray of drinks to the private lounge where he waited.

His guards stood like statues along the walls within. A man sat beside him with some papers in his hand, sweating as if the room wasn't cold from all the air conditioning. I had just stepped in when he raised a hand. "Everyone out."

The guards and sweating man left without hesitation, leaving only the two of us.

There was silence between us as I walked over to the table, my hands fixing him a drink with accuracy. My hand trembled and I compelled it to be still.

"What is your name?" he asked, his voice low and with a hint of interest.

"Huh?" I answered, surprised that he would address me.

"Name." He shortened.

"Eve," I replied simply.

He repeated it, to himself more than me. "Eve."

I could not stir until he reached out, his hand closing around my wrist, stopping me from pouring the drink. My breath was caught in my throat.

He took his other hand and raised my chin up, studying me with narrowed eyes, as though he was trying to uncover a truth under my skin.

There was something in the way he looked at me that was… invasive. Like he could see right through me. His hand on my skin had felt electric. I should have been frightened, but I enjoyed it.

I stepped back, clearing my throat and trying to get some distance between us. "Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?"

"Yes," he replied. "Work for me."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said.

I shook my head. "I'm not interested."

He didn't flinch. He reached for the small device on the table and pressed a button. Marco appeared seconds later, panting.

"She's going with me," Dante said matter-of-factly, like it was his practice. He drops by the bar and simply takes someone along.

Marco's face paled. He turned to me, silently pleading, then stepped closer to whisper, "You don't understand, Eve. If you say no, this facility could be shut down. He has that kind of power, Eve. Please. Think of the rest of us."

My throat dried and my fists clenched.

I hated being cornered.

But I wasn't only watching out for myself now. I was watching out for Lina. Marco. All of them here. Their livelihoods were resting on me.

I forced a nod. I didn't ask what kind of work I'd be doing for him but I knew I wouldn't allow myself to be used. "Alright. I'll work with you."

Dante stood, a satisfied spark in his eye. "Good choice, Eve. You'll be well compensated."

Good?

It didn't feel good.

It was the start of something that I couldn't comprehend.

And perhaps, just perhaps, something that I would not survive.