Chapter 7
Zora
The next morning, my office feels colder than usual. Or maybe that’s just my mood. The skyline stretches behind the floor-to-ceiling windows while my monitors glow in front of me, but my attention keeps drifting elsewhere.
Back to him. Back to last night. Back to every reckless sentence that left my mouth the second Domenico decided to stand too close and look at me like he already knew exactly which nerves to touch.
I should have handled it differently. Calmer. Smarter. Instead, I challenged him like an idiot.
A humorless breath leaves me as I lean back in my chair, rubbing a hand slowly across my face before forcing my attention back toward the screen. The Keegan files remain open in front of me. Encrypted routes, offshore accounts, dead-end surveillance reports.
Still impossible. And now probably even more impossible. Because the only person rumored to breach their systems without getting himself killed is a man I spent half the night provoking.
Brilliant.
I close the file on my screen with more force than necessary and pull up another file in its place. If Domenico Valenti is no longer an option, then I need alternatives. Fast.
Stefano’s offer is too valuable to lose.
A successful deal with him would strengthen my company immediately. New investors, new access, stronger leverage against the people already circling the empire waiting for me to fail. Men like Mikkel already think I’m inexperienced. One wrong move and they’ll start pushing harder.
I don't have the luxury of emotional distractions. Especially not a six-foot-something Ghost with a dangerous mouth and worse eyes.
Another frustrated breath leaves me as I force my attention back to the reports spread across my screen.
Concentrating on work should be easy. Usually it is.
But before I can make any real progress, a knock sounds at the office door and Erin steps inside with a small black envelope balanced between her fingers.
"There wasn't a return name." She says as she sets it down on my desk. "The receptionist said someone left it downstairs a few minutes ago."
My attention shifts immediately to the envelope sitting between us.
I hold my hand out and Erin passes me the envelope silently. The black paper feels expensive beneath my fingertips. Minimal and clean. Threatening somehow.
"Security checked it already." Erin adds carefully. "No issues."
I nod once.
She hesitates briefly like she wants to ask something, but thinks better of it.
The door closes behind her quietly, leaving me alone again.
For a second, I just stare at the envelope resting in my hand. I already know who it’s from. And somehow, that realization irritates me almost as much as the faint anticipation tightening low in my stomach.
Never play with a man’s ego if you want something from him, Zora.
The thought comes too late to be useful now.
I’ve never lost control during negotiations before. Never allowed someone to drag me into pointless verbal sparring just because they knew exactly how to provoke me. But Domenico… Something about him bypassed logic entirely. The worst part? I still can’t decide whether I regret it.
With a quiet exhale, I pull the contents from the envelope.
Inside rests a single black card. No message. No signature. Just a phone number written in elegant handwriting.
I hesitate for a moment before slowly reaching for my phone. Skepticism settles heavily in my chest as I glance down at the card between my fingers.
A phone number.
For a brief moment, I genuinely consider throwing it away.
Last night was already enough of a disaster.
I lost composure, challenged a man whose entire reputation is built around danger, and somehow still managed to spend the drive home thinking about the way he said my name instead of the fact that I probably destroyed my only chance at securing him for the Keegan job.
Objectively humiliating. And yet… my hand reaches for my phone anyway. I enter the number before I can reconsider it further and press call.
The line rings twice. Then…
"Ms. Krogen." The deep voice settles instantly beneath my skin.
It’s ridiculous how quickly my body recognizes it. A subtle chill moves across the back of my neck while my grip tightens slightly around the phone.
I lean back in my chair slowly. "I wasn’t expecting you to answer personally."
A faint pause hums through the line. "Disappointed?"
The question comes smoother this time. Less mocking than last night. More curious.
"No." I answer honestly before I can stop myself. "Surprised."
A low and amused leaves him. "I was beginning to think you wouldn’t call."
"I considered not doing it."
"But you did anyway."
I glance toward the city outside my office windows. "I needed clarification."
"About?"
"Whether that envelope was business-related," I say coolly, "or just another attempt to entertain yourself."
A quiet chuckle travels through the speaker. "You think highly of your effect on me."
"I think men like you usually enjoy games."
"And women like you usually pretend they don’t."
That earns a faint narrowing of my eyes. I should end the conversation before it turns into another pointless sparring match.
Instead, I say, "I'm calling because there's a job."
The shift in his tone is immediate. The teasing disappears, along with any trace of amusement.
"Talk." Straight to the point. Good.
"The one from the envelope." I say. "I'm assuming you read it."
Silence follows, but it isn't confusion. It's consideration, careful and deliberate, and I wait patiently for him to reach whatever conclusion he's working toward.
"You're ambitious." He says eventually.
"I'm practical."
"The Keegans don't leave many people alive after they notice them."
"Which is why I'm not calling ordinary people."
Another brief pause follows before he asks, "What exactly are you looking for?"
"Financial routes. Hidden assets. Internal movement."
"You already have someone backing this operation."
It's not a question. I let the silence stretch for a moment, and apparently that tells him everything he needs to know.
"Rinaldi." He says.
Interesting. He reached that conclusion faster than I expected.
"You know him?"
"I know of him."
"He approached me." I say carefully. "The arrangement benefits both of us."
"And you trust him?"
The question catches me slightly off guard. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the way he asks them.
"I trust mutual interest." I say after a moment. "That's usually more reliable."
A quiet hum sounds through the line, thoughtful in a way I can't quite explain.
"Smart answer."
I ignore the strange flicker of satisfaction those two words give me.
"So?" I ask instead. "Are you interested?"
His response doesn't come immediately. Somewhere in the background, something metallic shifts before the silence returns.
"I don't discuss work over the phone." He says finally.
"Convenient."
I turn the pen resting beside my keyboard slowly between my fingers. "Then I assume this is the part where you disappear mysteriously and leave me waiting for a week."
That earns a quiet laugh from him.
"You expected me to be dramatic?"
"I expected you to be difficult."
"I am difficult."
"At least you admit it."
A faint pause follows before he says, "I’ll meet you tonight. We’ll discuss the details properly."
I straighten slightly in my chair. "Location?"
"I’ll send it."
"Very secretive."
"You attended an illegal auction last night, Ms. Krogen. Surely secrecy isn’t surprising anymore."
Fair.
My gaze drifts unconsciously toward the black envelope resting beside me on the desk.
"And if I decide not to come?"
A brief silence follows before he answers. "You won't."
The certainty in his voice should annoy me more than it does.
"I haven't agreed yet."
"But you're curious enough to consider it." He replies smoothly.
Before he can say anything else, I force my attention back to the reason for this call.
"One thing before tonight. If this works, I expect results. I'm not interested in reputation."
His tone shifts when he answers, becoming quieter and somehow more dangerous. "I'll send the address within the hour."
"Fine."
"And Elf?"
I close my eyes briefly at the nickname. "I hate that."
A low chuckle reaches me through the speaker. "I know."
Then the line goes dead.
I stare at the phone in silence for several seconds afterward. Annoyance rises at the fact that every conversation with him somehow feels like he’s reading half the thoughts I don’t say aloud. But beneath the irritation sits something far more dangerous. Curiosity. And worse… Anticipation.
I lower the phone slowly onto the desk and lean back into my chair, staring up at the ceiling for a brief second.
This is going to be complicated. Men like Domenico Valenti don’t follow instructions. They don’t negotiate normally, don’t think normally, probably don’t even view danger the same way other people do.
Everything about him feels unpredictable in a way that should concern me far more than it currently does. And yet the concern isn’t the problem. The problem is that part of me enjoys it. That realization irritates me immediately.
I’ve spent years learning how to navigate powerful men. Politicians, investors, criminals pretending to be businessmen, businessmen pretending not to be criminals. Men who underestimate me first and grow threatened later. I know how to handle those men.
Domenico feels different. Not because he’s louder or more controlling. Because he watches too carefully. And every conversation with him feels like standing half a step too close to the edge of something dangerous while pretending not to notice the drop beneath you.
I exhale quietly and force myself upright again.
The Keegan situation still exists regardless of whatever unsettling effect he seems to have on my nervous system. I need information. Stefano needs results. And if working with Il Fantasma is the fastest way to secure both, then that is all this becomes. Nothing more.