The CEO
Valeria
I had forgotten just how formidable Dante could be in business.
Ever since he decided to bring Wald down, something inside him has reignited. A methodical coldness. An almost ruthless precision.
He mapped out his battle plan with the same calm composure as a general preparing a military campaign.
And now I watch him move his pieces one by one.
Potential investors. Longtime partners. Influential shareholders. Former classmates who have since become executives of pharmaceutical or financial giants.
Dante is methodically reactivating his network.
Business lunches. Private dinners. Closed-door meetings in mansions, exclusive clubs, and hushed salons where empires are truly negotiated.
He’s advancing on every front at once.
And no one can keep track of all his maneuvers.
He’s already negotiating distribution exclusivity agreements for a drug that officially doesn’t even exist yet. Securing production deals. Anticipating the opening of future factories. Preparing logistics chains as though the launch were imminent.
And above all… he’s doing all of it in plain sight.
That’s precisely what makes the situation unbearable for them.
Bianca has become discreet.
Gaspard is nervous.
Even Wald is starting to be.
None of them understands where Dante is heading.
They see the meetings piling up. The rumors spreading. Investment funds that had been avoiding us for months suddenly asking for meetings again. Industry journalists beginning to talk about us once more.
But they have no idea what’s real, what’s exaggerated, and what’s part of the trap.
So they watch.
They search.
They sweat at the thought of missing something important.
And Dante deliberately maintains that pressure.
The more doubt grows, the more predictable they become.
And yet, in the middle of this silent war, something unexpected happens.
Aurenza starts breathing again.
The stock price steadily rises. Employees begin talking about the future instead of survival. Some of them even dare to make long-term plans again.
A forgotten energy seems to be returning to the hallways.
As if the entire company were finally waking from a long sleep.
Without even realizing it, Dante is giving everyone hope again.
“He’s himself again,” Andrea tells me one afternoon as we wait for Dante in a restaurant near the Champs-élysées.
I turn slightly toward him.
“What do you mean?”
Andrea gives a faint smile.
“For two years, he kept moving forward because he had to. But he wasn’t really there anymore. Now he is.”
Henri, seated across from us, nods calmly.
“Before, he reacted. Now he anticipates again.”
He slowly spins his glass between his fingers before adding:
“And when Dante starts anticipating several moves ahead… usually someone ends up ruined.”
And judging by the faint smile on his face, I’m not entirely sure he minds that.
Despite myself, I smile.
And yet, beneath this appearance of control, one question remains.
Will Wald take the bait?
Dante arrives at the manor at 6:45 PM. No matter how grueling his days are, he always makes sure to be home in time to help with dinner.
It’s our ritual—a sacred window of time for us to reconnect and catch up on our days.
Usually, after a quick shower, we gather around the kitchen island to split the chores: he handles the main course, I do the appetizer, or vice versa.
Tonight, dinner is already waiting when he arrives.
For days now, I’ve watched him take back control of the world.
Tonight, for a few hours, I want him to stop being the CEO.
I have big plans for us. Between the embroidered tablecloth, the champagne flutes, and the candles, I’ve gone all out. The moment he sees me, his smile makes every effort worth it. He pulls me into his arms, spins me around, and kisses me with a raw, desperate passion.
Without a word, he lifts me up. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me toward the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss. Once we reach the bathroom, he sets me slowly on the floor and steps back, his eyes locked onto mine.
I know exactly what he wants from me.
Slowly, I slide off my jacket and let it fall to the floor.
Keeping my gaze pinned to his, I undo my blouse, button by button.
His eyes follow the movement of my hands, refusing to miss a single second.
In response, his own hand loosens the knot of his tie, as if he’s struggling to breathe.
I pull back the fabric, revealing the black and deep red lace bra that frames my breasts.
The hand that was removing his tie freezes in mid-air for a heartbeat before continuing its descent.
I slide the zipper of my skirt down, and the fabric pools at my feet.
Dante’s gaze ignites at the sight of the garter belt holding up my black stockings and thong.
He swallows hard. I can see his trousers tighten visibly as he begins to unbutton his shirt, almost unconscious of his own movements.
I take a step to the side to push my skirt away and prepare to peel off my stockings when he stops me with a firm gesture.
“No. Stay like that. I want you with your lingerie on.”
I stand there, motionless, watching him strip.
His shirt opens to reveal a chest and abs I want to sink my teeth into.
And when he finally frees his hardness, I nearly swoon from sheer desire.
In two strides, he’s on me, claiming my lips again.
His tongue meets mine; the taste of him is addictive.
I want more. He makes me completely unravel; I lose all control.
I don’t even remember how we ended up there, but suddenly I’m with him under the spray of the hot shower. I’m pressed against the wall with him behind me, his hands freeing my breasts from their lace cups while his mouth lingers on my neck. I can feel his erection pressing hard against my backside.
One hand leaves my breast to slide beneath my thong, searching for my clitoris. He caresses me everywhere—with his hands, his mouth, his entire body.
“Tell me what you want...” he whispers, his voice barely coherent.
“You.”
He brings his face close to mine and we kiss just as his hand pulls my thong aside, allowing him to penetrate me slowly.
“Fuck...” he groans.
Our lips part and he begins to move, sliding in and out of me in short, sharp thrusts.
It’s so intense. I moan; he growls. Waves of pleasure crash through me, building in intensity.
His hands grip my hips, his pace quickening.
The water pours over us, amplifying the sound of our skin slapping together. I’m shaking with pleasure.
“Yes, yes... right there...”
“Do you want more?”
“Yesss... please. More.”
I’m nearly folded in half, him wrapped tightly around me. His hands give my nipples a light pinch before letting go. The pleasure crashes through me so hard I nearly lose my footing. I clench around him.
His rhythm becomes erratic.
Then everything explodes.
We collapse together onto the bathroom floor, breathless.
As we slowly come back down to earth, I burst out laughing.
“Fuck. Let’s do that again whenever you want.”
He smiles and helps me up. Then, very gently, he removes my soaked lingerie and tosses it aside before beginning to wash me.
His touch becomes infinitely gentler.
Much later, we finally sit down to eat. The dinner is light and cheerful. We talk about the future—the houses we’re going to visit and how we want to design them. I barely touch my champagne, but he doesn’t even notice, still lost in the haze of our ecstasy.
We don’t stay up late; he has a long day ahead of him tomorrow. As always, the moment I lie down, he pulls me against him. Firmly. His arms wrap around me with that familiar urgency: the fear that if he lets go, I might disappear again.
One day, I’ll have to help him let go of that fear.
Especially now.
I stay curled against his chest, my lips brushing his warm skin.
“I have something important to tell you.”
“I’m listening.”
His voice is low.
I take his hand and place it against my stomach.
He frowns slightly, not understanding.
Then he realizes.
His entire body goes still.
Very slowly, he pulls back just enough to look at me.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yes, Dante.”
His breathing falters.
A second passes.
“With our baby.”
Disbelief crosses his face first. Then hope. Then the realization truly reaches him.
I watch the emotion hit him in waves.
His arms close around me again with almost desperate force.
“We’re having a baby?”
He says it like a prayer.
“Yes.”
He holds me even tighter.
I hear him breathe carefully, as though he’s trying to contain something too vast for words.
“I’m going to be a father. With you. No one is taking this away from us.”
Then I feel tears against my temple.
“Your health isn’t getting worse, is it?” he whispers.
“When I saw how tired you’d been... the nausea... I was scared. Scared there was something you hadn’t told me.
Scared something was seriously wrong.”
His throat tightens.
“But it’s not that. You’re having a baby. Our baby.”
His voice breaks.
And suddenly I understand what is affecting him so deeply.
The future he thought he’d lost.
The family he believed was impossible.
I cup his face in my hands and rest my forehead against his.
“We’re going to become parents. Together.”