**Title: "Twisted Devotion"**
Elena's fingers twitched as she carefully adjusted the strap of her gown, her eyes scanning the opulent ballroom with sharp precision. Her fractured left hand was hidden beneath a glove, more for concealment than comfort. The mission was simple: retrieve the files and leave. Her former life as an assassin had taught her the art of blending in, but tonight, she felt more like prey than predator.
She moved through the crowd, her senses on high alert. The files were supposed to be in the study upstairs, a quick in-and-out job. But just as she reached the staircase, a familiar presence made her skin prickle.
Dante.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart race. He was younger than her, maybe by a few years, but there was nothing youthful about him. His reputation was that of a ruthless mafia leader, a man who commanded fear and respect in equal measure. Elena had crossed paths with many dangerous men in her life, but Dante was different. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her blood run cold.
"Elena," Dante greeted her, his voice smooth as silk, yet laced with something darker. "I didn't expect to see you here."
She forced a smile, even as her instincts screamed at her to run. "Just here for business, Dante. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"Business?" He stepped closer, blocking her path. "Or something more personal?"
Her eyes narrowed, but she kept her voice steady. "I don't mix personal with professional. You should know that."
Dante chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "I think you and I have very different definitions of 'professional,' Elena."
Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "I'll see you later."
Elena’s pulse quickened, but she maintained her composure, sidestepping him and continuing up the stairs. The files were her priority, not Dante’s unnerving attention.
After securing the documents, she slipped out of the mansion, relieved to be away from Dante’s suffocating presence. She ducked into a nearby alley, needing a moment to breathe. But as she reached the end of the narrow passage, she was greeted by a group of young men, their expressions lewd and mocking.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of them sneered, stepping forward.
Elena’s eyes flashed with cold fury. She may have been out of the game, but she hadn’t forgotten how to handle herself. Even with a fractured arm, she was more than capable of dealing with them.
In a blur of movement, she disarmed the first attacker, using his momentum to send him crashing into the wall. The second man lunged at her, but she ducked under his swing, delivering a sharp kick to his knee, sending him to the ground with a grunt of pain.
The fight was over in seconds, the men groaning in pain as Elena stood over them, breathing hard. She was about to leave when she felt someone grab her arm. She whirled around, knife in hand, only to find herself face-to-face with Dante.
His grip on her wrist was firm, his dark eyes filled with something that made her stomach turn. "I knew you were dangerous," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "But seeing it... it’s intoxicating."
"Let go of me, Dante," Elena hissed, pressing the blade to his throat.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, his body pinning her against the wall. "Do it," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. "Show me that fire."
