Tonight, she was stepping into his world.
Ava Martinez' chest gave the awkward thumping it always does whenever she was nervous, she glanced at her sweaty palms and rubbed them on the sleek black dress she had picked out just for this occasion while scanning the crowd with a calm, calculating glance.
She had spent years chasing the truth and still wondered how after lots of unraveling and years of experience, nothing had prepared her for the legend of Damian Moretti.
"Him", the thought of him alone brought bile to her throat. Ava had no idea why the mere mention of this man's name could bring men to their knees.
Damian Moretti wasn't just another billionaire with a taste for excess. He was a shadow, a myth woven into the very fabric of Las Vegas. His name echoed through the city's darkest corridors, spoken in whispers by those too afraid to say it out loud. He owned casinos, luxury hotels, and high-end nightclubs, but that wasn't all. Everyone knew there was more to his empire than what was on paper.
Ava's job was to find out exactly what.
She adjusted the hem of her sleek black dress as she strode toward Inferno, the most exclusive club in Vegas. It was a place of whispered deals and quiet threats, where the city's elite came to indulge in their vices. If she wanted to get close to Damian, this was where she had to start.
The line outside stretched around the block, but Ava didn't need to wait. She had connections, favors owed to her by people who knew better than to question her motives. Slipping past the velvet ropes, she walked straight into the heart of the beast's lair.
Inside, the atmosphere was intoxicating. Deep red lighting bathed the space, casting shadows over the marble floors and dark leather seating. The scent of expensive whiskey and unspoken secrets filled the air. A sultry melody played, blending with the rhythmic hum of conversation.
Ava moved with purpose, scanning the crowd. She had studied Damian for weeks, learned his habits, memorized his patterns. He rarely made public appearances, but when he did, it was always in Inferno's VIP section.
She spotted the entrance—guarded, of course. Two men in tailored suits stood with their hands clasped in front of them, looking more like soldiers than bouncers. They weren't there to keep people out. They were there to ensure that only the right people got in.
Ava took a slow breath. If she wanted Damian's attention, she had to take a risk.
She made her way to the bar instead, leaning against the polished surface as she signaled the bartender. "Whiskey, neat," she ordered, her voice smooth but firm. She wasn't here to sip on fruity cocktails and blend in. She needed to stand out.
The bartender slid the glass toward her, and she lifted it to her lips, savoring the burn as she glanced at the VIP entrance once more. A movement caught her eye.
And then—there he was.
Damian Moretti.
He didn't walk into a room. He owned it.
The energy in the club shifted as he stepped forward, a silent ripple of acknowledgment passing through the crowd. Conversations hushed, gazes turned. He was tall, commanding, dressed in an all-black suit that fit him like a second skin. His sharp jawline was dusted with a hint of stubble, and his dark eyes held a depth that could drown a person if they stared too long.
But it wasn't just his looks that made people fear him. It was the way he carried himself—effortless power, lethal control. He was the kind of man who didn't need to demand attention. It came to him naturally.
Ava forced herself to look away before she got caught staring.
She had spent years chasing dangerous men, but none had ever made her pulse stutter like this. She needed to remember why she was here. Damian Moretti was a story, a puzzle she needed to solve.
And she had just found her way in.
A man slid into the seat beside her, dressed in an expensive suit that tried too hard to impress. His smile was lazy, his confidence bordering on arrogance. "Haven't seen you here before," he said, tilting his glass toward her. "New in town?"
Ava gave him a slow, practiced smile. "Something like that."
She didn't need to look at Damian to know he had noticed her. She could feel it. The weight of his gaze, the awareness creeping over her skin. If she played this right, he would come to her.
She leaned in slightly, making sure her voice carried. "I was actually hoping to meet someone tonight."
The man beside her smirked, clearly misreading her intention. "Lucky me, then."
Ava let out a soft laugh, lifting her glass to her lips. And then—
A shadow fell over them.
The man beside her stiffened instantly, his confidence vanishing as if someone had cut the strings holding him up. His throat bobbed as he turned, his posture going rigid.
Ava didn't have to turn around to know who stood behind her.
The energy in the room had shifted again, darker this time.
A slow, measured voice broke the silence.
"She's not here for you."
Ava exhaled slowly before turning to face him.
Damian Moretti stood inches away, his dark gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. Up close, he was even more devastating. Broad shoulders, sharp cheekbones, an aura of danger wrapped in effortless charm.
Her fingers tightened around her glass.
This was it.
This was the moment she had been waiting for.
Damian tilted his head slightly, his gaze studying her as if he could see right through her. As if he already knew she wasn't just another woman looking for a thrill.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low, lethal.
Ava smiled, meeting his stare without hesitation while her thoughts ran amok.
"The question isn't who I am," she said, lifting her glass to her lips one last time.
"It's why I'm here."
Damian's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. More like a warning.
Ava had wanted to get his attention.
She had it now, she told herself as her heartbeat thrummed in her ears and her legs almost became wobbly.
She walked toward the VIP section, fully aware of the man following closely behind her. Damian Moretti didn't just move—he prowled. Every step was deliberate, every shift of his gaze a calculated assessment of the world around him.
People parted without a word, stepping aside as if pulled by an invisible force. It was more than power. It was control.
The booth was secluded, bathed in soft golden light that contrasted sharply with the deep red hues of the club. The leather seats gleamed under the glow, and a bottle of whiskey sat in the center of the table, untouched. Damian slid in across from her, his movements smooth, effortless.
Ava met his gaze head-on, refusing to show even a flicker of hesitation. This was what she wanted—what she had been chasing. And yet, now that she was sitting across from him, the weight of his attention was suffocating.
He leaned back, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. "You have my attention. Not many people manage that."
Ava tilted her head, feigning nonchalance. "Maybe not many people try."
His lips curved slightly, but it wasn't amusement—it was curiosity. And curiosity was dangerous when it came to men like Damian Moretti.
"You don't look like someone who belongs in my world," he mused, eyes flicking over her in a way that was less about attraction and more about assessment. "So tell me, why are you here?"
Ava lifted a shoulder, keeping her expression neutral. "Like I said, curiosity."
Damian reached for the whiskey bottle, pouring himself a glass with practiced ease. He didn't offer her one, and she didn't ask.
"Curiosity," he repeated, taking a slow sip. "Do you know what happens to people who get too curious in this city?"
Ava met his gaze without blinking. "They either find what they're looking for," she said evenly, "or they disappear."
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then Damian chuckled—low, dark, dangerous.
"You've done your research."
Ava leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table. "I like to know who I'm dealing with."
Damian set his glass down, his fingers brushing against the rim. "And what have you learned about me, Ava?"
Her breath hitched, but she masked it quickly.
He knew her name.
She shouldn't have been surprised—of course he did. A man like Damian Moretti wouldn't allow someone to approach him without knowing exactly who they were.
But hearing it in his voice, wrapped in something smooth and lethal, sent a shiver down her spine.
Ava refused to let him see how much that rattled her. "Enough to know you don't let strangers into your world easily," she said, keeping her voice even. "Which makes me wonder why I'm sitting here."
Damian watched her for a long moment, as if debating how much to reveal.
"Because you intrigue me," he finally said.
Ava arched a brow. "I'm flattered."
"You shouldn't be," he murmured, lifting his glass again.
Ava's fingers curled slightly against the table. She needed to take control of this conversation before he unraveled her too quickly. "What is it you do, exactly?" she asked.
Damian's gaze didn't waver. "I own businesses."
"Casinos, nightclubs, luxury hotels," Ava listed. "But that's just the surface, isn't it?"
His expression didn't change. He was unreadable, a fortress built of control. "You tell me."
Ava hesitated. This was the moment to push—to see just how far she could go before she hit an unmovable wall.
"There are rumors," she said carefully. "That you control more than just the legal side of this city. That the Moretti name isn't just associated with luxury, but with power. The kind of power that makes people afraid."
Damian didn't blink. "And does that scare you?"
Ava held his gaze, refusing to look away. "Should it?"
Another flicker of amusement crossed his face, but this time, there was something darker behind it. Something dangerous.
"Tell me, Ava," he murmured, "are you here as a woman looking for a thrill, or as something else?"
He emphasized the "something else", she observed as the question sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins.
Damian was testing her. He wasn't fooled by the act, not entirely. He knew there was more to her presence here than just curiosity.
Ava had two choices—play the game carefully or risk losing everything in one move.
She leaned back slightly, tilting her head. "Why? Which answer would make you let me walk out of here in one piece?"
Damian's smirk was slow, knowing. "You assume I would let you walk out."
Her stomach tightened, but she refused to show it. She had stepped into the lion's den willingly—now she had to make sure she could survive it.
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken threats and the sharp edge of intrigue.
Finally, Damian reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black card. He slid it across the table toward her.
"Tomorrow. 9 PM. Meet me at the address on that card." His voice was casual, but there was nothing casual about the weight behind the command. "Unless, of course, you're afraid of finding out what's beneath the surface."
Ava hesitated for only a second before picking up the card. The address was unfamiliar, but she memorized it instantly.
When she looked back up, Damian was watching her like a man who had just placed a bet he knew he was going to win.
"Come alone," he added.
Ava slipped the card into her purse and rose to her feet. "We'll see," she said smoothly.
Damian smirked, lifting his glass once more. "Be careful, journalist," he murmured. "You might not like what you find."