Valerio sat in the dimly lit lounge of his family's estate, fingers lazily twirling the glass of whiskey on the table before him. The ice clinked against the glass, an irritating sound that matched the unrest in his chest. His mind kept drifting back to her — Leona Vale — her smile, her voice, the warmth in her laugh that somehow lingered in his ears even now.
He hated it. Hated how she'd slipp"d beneath his skin like a splinter that refused to be dislodged.
"I'm sorry, Valerio… I just don't think this is a good idea."
Her words replayed in his head, a cold reminder of her rejection. She had smiled when she said it — that soft, apologetic smile that somehow made it worse. If she had been cruel or harsh, he could've handled it. But no — Leona had been gentle, almost regretful. As if she didn't want to hurt him.
You're an idiot, Valerio scolded himself. Why did you even try?
He knew why. Leona wasn't like anyone else. She wasn't chasing power, wealth, or the twisted life his world revolved around. She was light in a place where shadows reigned — and that light had drawn him in like a moth to a flame.
Dante's voice suddenly cut through his thoughts.
"You're gonna drown yourself in that drink?" Dante's footsteps echoed as he walked in, his sharp gaze narrowing on Valerio's untouched glass. "Or are you just practicing your brooding face?"
"Maybe both," Valerio muttered, his voice low.
Dante chuckled darkly and sat across from him, stretching an arm over the back of the chair. "Let me guess… Leona?"
Valerio shot him a glare, but the smug look on Dante's face told him he wasn't fooling anyone.
"She's not interested," Valerio said flatly.
"Did you really expect her to fall into your arms the second you showed up?" Dante's smirk faltered. "She's… different, Val. And maybe that's why you're so caught up on her."
Valerio exhaled through his nose, frustration burning in his chest. "I don't know why I thought this would be different. I should've known better."
"You're acting like she spat in your face," Dante muttered, grabbing Valerio's drink and taking a sip for himself. "She's still around, isn't she? She will still talk to you."
Valerio ran a hand down his face, fingers digging into his temples. "Yeah… but that's the problem. She's still there. Still smiling like nothing happened — like she didn't just rip my pride to shreds."
Dante barked a laugh. "Pride? Is that what you're calling it?"
Valerio shot him another look, but there was no heat behind it.
"She's dangerous, you know." Dante's tone shifted, more serious now. "Not in the way you'd expect — not like Vesper or the others we've dealt with. But the way she makes you feel… that's dangerous."
Valerio didn't answer. He didn't have to. The silence that followed said enough.
He knew Dante was right.
Later that night, Valerio found himself outside in the courtyard, the cold air biting at his skin. Cigarette smoke curled from his fingers, drifting into the night sky. He knew he couldn't stay away from Leona. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, something about her kept pulling him back in.
You're dangerous too, Leona Vale, he thought bitterly. And you don't even know it.
The following morning
Morning sunlight streamed through the glass walls of Ember's Edge, casting a warm glow on the polished wood and sleek countertops. The faint hum of morning chatter mixed with the clinking of glasses as the staff prepared for the day.
Valerio walked in with Dante beside him, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. He hadn't wanted to come here again — not after last night — but business was business.
"This better not take long," Valerio muttered, adjusting his watch.
"Relax," Dante smirked. "We'll handle the meeting, grab a drink, and leave before your heartache starts showing."
Valerio ignored him, his gaze scanning the room out of habit — and then he froze.
Leona.
But not the Leona he was used to seeing.
Gone were the loose cardigans and comfortable jeans she usually wore. Instead, she wore a sleek, fitted blouse tucked into tailored pants that hugged her waist perfectly. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, a few soft strands framing her face. There was a confidence in the way she moved — graceful, effortless — as she leaned over the bar, chatting with the staff. Her smile was bright, her laughter soft yet unmistakable in the room.
For a moment, Valerio just stared.
"Looks like someone's enjoying the view," Dante muttered under his breath.
Valerio's gaze snapped away, jaw tightening. "She's just… different today."
"Sure," Dante chuckled. "That's all it is."
As if sensing their presence, Leona turned — and her eyes lit up when she saw them.
"Hey!" she called out, waving them over. She practically bounced on her feet as she approached, her smile radiant. "What are you two doing here this early?"
"We've got a meeting," Dante answered easily. "But clearly, someone's busy being a social butterfly."
Leona laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, I can't leave everything to the staff, can I?" She glanced back at the bar, where two waiters were arranging glasses. "We had a delivery mix-up this morning, so I had to step in."
"You look…" Valerio paused, the words catching in his throat. "…different."
"Good different or bad different?" she asked teasingly, placing her hands on her hips.
"Good," Valerio muttered, feeling his ears heat up.
"Very good," Dante added with a grin, earning a playful glare from Valerio.
"Well," Leona beamed, "don't let me keep you. Go on — mafia business, I assume?"
Valerio's brows lifted. "You shouldn't say that out loud."
Leona shrugged. "Please, half the city already whispers about it. Don't worry — I'll make sure no one overhears."
With that, she turned back toward the bar, her voice carrying softly as she gave instructions to the staff. Valerio's eyes lingered a moment longer than he intended — at the way she moved, at how effortlessly she slipped between her cheerful self and someone who took charge when needed.
"Y'know," Dante's voice broke his thoughts, "you might wanna wipe that lovesick look off your face before someone notices."
Valerio shot him a scowl, but Dante only smirked wider.
"She's dangerous," Dante reminded him again, this time with a warning edge in his tone.
I know, Valerio thought. Leona was dangerous because she made him feel something. Something he never allowed himself to feel.
Valerio clenched his fists beneath the table, the echo of her words from the night before still stinging. He hated how easily she dismissed him — yet here he was, drawn to her again like a moth to a flame.
The morning sunlight barely crept through the heavy curtains in the bar's back room. The air was thick — stale with smoke from the night before. Valerio sat at the table, his fingers drumming rhythmically against the wood. Dante leaned back in his chair beside him, arms crossed, his gaze hard and unflinching.
Across from them sat two men — trusted contacts who knew the underground world well. Today's meeting wasn't about business deals or territory disputes — it was about him.
Elias Greco.
"The police are digging deeper than expected," one of the men muttered. "They've linked the knife to Vesper."
"Of course they have," Valerio said flatly. His fingers stilled, curling into a fist. "They know nothing else."
The image of that blade flashed in his mind — sleek, sharp, and unmistakable with the letter 'V' engraved into the handle. A cruel signature left behind like a twisted warning.
"There's nothing to suggest why Elias was targeted," the second man added. "No debts. No feuds. Whoever ordered this… it wasn't personal."
Valerio's jaw clenched. Not personal? His grandfather's blood had soaked into the floorboards of this very bar, and they had the nerve to say it wasn't personal?
"What about my sister?" Valerio cut in sharply. "The knife was at the scene. If they're targeting our families now—"
"Vesper doesn't kill without a contract," Dante interrupted. His voice was cold. "If your sister was supposed to die, she wouldn't have made it to the hospital."
The room fell silent.
"They're still investigating," one of the men said. "For now, the family should lay low. Vesper's unpredictable."
Valerio nodded stiffly, but his mind refused to settle. His grandfather was dead. His sister was unconscious. And the one person who could answer for both was a shadow that no one could seem to catch.
He stood abruptly, chair scraping harshly against the floor. "We're done here."
Dante followed without a word. As they stepped back into the bar's main area, the tension barely eased. The faint sound of laughter caught Valerio's ear — distant yet oddly grounding.
Dante followed without a word. As they stepped back into the bar's main area, the tension barely eased.
Then he saw her.
Leona was seated at the corner of the bar, fingers curled around a steaming mug of coffee. Her smile was bright — too bright for a place like this — and her eyes danced with something soft and warm. She was chatting quietly with a few staff members, her laughter a delicate hum in the background.
"She doesn't fit here," Dante muttered beside him.
No, she doesn't, Valerio thought. Yet somehow, she stood out even more because of it.
His gaze lingered a little too long before he forced himself to turn away. His mind should've been on Elias, on Vesper… on anything but her.
But Leona's smile lingered like a stubborn flame — soft yet impossible to ignore.
Just as they passed, Leona's gaze flicked up and caught his. She smiled — sweet and effortless — before calling out, "Valerio!"
He stopped in his tracks, turning slowly as she rose from her seat. She grabbed another mug from the counter and approached him.
"Coffee?" she offered, holding it out with both hands.
Valerio stared at her, unsure what to make of it. "I'm not really in the mood." His voice was colder than he intended.
"Still," Leona insisted with a gentle shrug, "it might help."
For a moment, he considered refusing. But something about the way she stood — casual yet oddly persistent — made him reach out and take the cup.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"I figured you'd need it," she said lightly, her eyes glinting with warmth. "You seemed… tense."
Valerio scoffed softly, raising the cup to his lips. The bitterness bit at his tongue — strong, no sugar. Exactly how he preferred it.
"How'd you know how I like it?"
Leona's smile widened as she tapped her temple. "I pay attention."
With that, she turned back to her seat, her soft chatter resuming with the staff.
Valerio stood there for a moment longer, the warmth of the coffee lingering in his hand. She was different — too soft for a place like this, too kind for someone tangled in his world.
Yet somehow, she was starting to slip beneath his skin.
For now, the only thing clear was that Vesper had left them with nothing but questions. And Valerio was determined to get answers — no matter the cost.