Deadline

Friday night. 8:58 PM.

The air outside Helms Cove was freezing. At exactly nine o'clock, Victoria stepped inside. Her crimson leather dress was sleek, simple, and fit like a second skin. She scanned the empty room until she spotted Giordano in a corner booth.

He had a quiet, relaxed posture, completely unbothered that she had cleared out the entire restaurant just to talk to him. On the white tablecloth next to him sat a heavy bouquet of diamond-encrusted roses. It was loud, expensive, and a total provocation.

Victoria walked over, her heels clicking against the floor. Giordano stood up with easy grace, a casual smile on his face.

"Miss De Luca," he said, his voice quiet. "I was starting to think you blew me off."

"Sit down, Giordano," Victoria replied, pulling out her own chair before he could get it for her. "We aren't here to socialize."

"Right. Strictly business," Giordano said, sitting back down and gesturing to the glittering bouquet. "Though I figured a little thank-you gift for the dinner invitation was appropriate."

Victoria didn't touch them. "Diamonds and a blackmail threat. You have a really twisted sense of romance, Salvatore."

Giordano leaned back, crossing his legs. "Hey, you're the one who cornered me in my own elevator. I'm just trying to match your energy."

"Enough," Victoria said, leaning forward. She slid her thumb across her phone screen. "Check your private server. I just routed the file."

Giordano pulled out his tablet. The playful look vanished from his face the second he unlocked the partition. His eyes tracked the data, his brows drawing together.

“This isn't a simple blackout script, Victoria,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “This is a military-grade encryption sequence on a live Soviet core. Whoever was working on this before me completely fried the logic board.”

“Which is why I'm paying you,” she said flatly. “I need the activation matrix cleared and fully operational in three weeks.”

Giordano looked up from the screen, staring straight into her gray eyes. “Three weeks? To crack a quantum cipher that the government couldn't bypass? That’s not a timeline, Victoria. That’s a suicide mission.”

"You told me on Tuesday you were the best," she countered, her voice dangerously calm. "Were you lying, or are you just scared?"

Giordano held her gaze for a long beat, a quiet, reckless spark hitting his eyes. "Fine. Three weeks. But if I blow us both up, I'm blaming you."

The waiter chose that exact moment to step up to the table. "Good evening. May I take your order?"

Victoria didn't look away from Giordano. "The lobster thermidor and a bottle of Dom Pérignon."

"And bring another bouquet of roses," Giordano added to the waiter, flashing a dry smile. "Real ones this time. The lady doesn't appreciate my taste in jewelry. Put it on my card."

The waiter nodded quickly and practically sprinted away.

“You’re efficient, I’ll give you that,” Giordano said, folding his hands on the table. “But let’s be real for a second. What does DanTech actually get out of this? Aside from a bullet if I miss the deadline.”

Victoria offered a small, razor-sharp smile. “You get the De Luca syndicate keeping the authorities off your back. I know about the Naples leak, Giordano. If anyone comes looking for those files, I make them disappear. Consider it insurance.”

She reached into her bag and slid a matte-black folder across the table.

Giordano looked at the paperwork, pulled a Montblanc pen from his jacket, and signed it without theatrical hesitation. 

Victoria took the pen and signed right next to his name.

As their pens lifted from the paper, Giordano leaned back, idly twirling his heavy black fountain pen between his long fingers. A dark, unreadable gleam flashed in his onyx eyes for a fraction of a second before he smoothly capped the pen.

“A perfect contract,” Giordano murmured, his voice low and rich as he tapped the signed document. “You know, Victoria, in cybersecurity, we have a saying: the most beautiful systems are the ones that look completely flawless right before they crash. I wonder if our little alliance will hold up under pressure.”

Victoria dismissed his comment with a cold, mocking tilt of lips. “As long as you deliver my weapon, you won't have to find out.”

The waiter returned, quietly setting down the steaming lobster thermidor and pouring the bubbling Dom Pérignon before vanishing to give them absolute privacy.

They ate in a heavy, charged silence. Neither of them broke eye contact, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife as they drank their champagne. Victoria took her time, enjoying the meal with an elegant, calm precision that showed she was completely in control of the evening.

As they finally finished the food and the plates were cleared, Giordano took a final sip of his champagne, setting the glass down.

“We need a safe house,” he said, leaning forward to get serious. “I can’t build an electromagnetic trigger in my penthouse. The thermal spike alone will register on federal satellites within ten minutes.”

“It’s already handled,” Victoria said, dabbling her lips with a napkin. “Subterranean facility on the West Coast, right under the marine caves. It’s off the grid, naturally shielded, and there's no civilian presence for miles.”

Giordano paused, his eyes widening slightly before he let out a low laugh. “You really don't leave anything to chance, do you?”

“I don’t like failing.”

“And what about me? Am I just another asset for the next three weeks?”

“Exactly,” Victoria said smoothly, looking right at him. “You belong to my syndicate until that core boots up.”

Giordano smiled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. But the server cooling units I need aren't cheap. I'm going to need upfront capital—”

BZZZ.

His phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down. A notification from his encrypted banking app was already flashing a multi-million-dollar deposit.

Victoria stood up, smoothing down her crimson dress. “Three weeks, Salvatore. Don't make me waste my money.”

She picked up the diamond-studded roses, gave him one last unreadable look, and walked out of the restaurant into the night.

The second the cold air hit her face, her earpiece clicked on. Kany’s voice came through—breathless, sharp, and stripped of all its usual professional calm.

“Boss! A secured file just leaked from the inner circle. It’s the original execution log from the night your father died.”