The Man Above the Crowd

“I’m not going.”

I folded my arms, leaning against the kitchen counter sipping my favourite cup of coffee as Sofia zipped up her dress with the confidence of someone who already knew she’d win.

“You are,” she said without looking at me. “Because you’ve been walking around like the walls are listening, and I refuse to let you disappear into your head.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

The truth was, the last place I wanted to be was a crowded club filled with strangers, flashing lights, and too many unknown variables. Loud music wouldn’t drown out the feeling crawling under my skin.

She turned, eyes sharp. “You haven’t been fine since that man walked into your café.”

My stomach tightened. “He didn’t do anything. He drank his coffee and left.”

“That’s what worries me.”

I looked away. “Clubs are loud. Crowded. That’s not exactly comforting right now.”

“Exactly why we’re going,” she countered. “No shadows. No silence. Just music, people minding their businesses and some bad decisions.” She said with a devious smile.

I hesitated.

Then sighed with my free hand covering my face. “One drink.”

Sofia grinned. “That’s my girl.”

The club swallowed us whole.

Lights sliced through the darkness, music pounding so hard I felt it in my bones. Bodies pressed together—heat, sweat, laughter. Everyone was wrapped up in their own world, yet my unease only sharpened.

The moment I stepped inside, it happened.

I had that unusual feeling, and I tried to swallow the thick air that just built up in my throat.

Like invisible fingers trailing down my spine. Like someone had been waiting.

My breath caught. My body reacted before my mind could.

I lifted my gaze.

Above the crowd, behind smoked glass and dim gold light, a private section overlooked the dance floor.

And there he was.

A man stood perfectly still, like a painting brought to life.

Tall. Broad. Dressed in black that didn’t look fashionable—it looked authoritative. One hand rested casually on the railing, his posture relaxed but dangerous, as if the entire room answered to him.

His eyes locked onto mine.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

Everything else blurred.

The music faded. The crowd dissolved.

It felt like recognition—deep and unsettling. As though my body knew him, even if my mind didn’t.

I swallowed hard.

“Alessia?” Sofia shouted and shook my stiff body. “You okay?”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just—hot in here.”

But I couldn’t look away.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t signal.

Just watched me like he had expected me to be here.

Then someone stepped beside him.

My breath stuttered.

The man from the café.

The black suit. The man who had his eyes on me the entire afternoon.

He leaned in and whispered something into the stranger’s ear.

The man above stiffened—just barely. His jaw tightened, but his posture remained composed, elegant, controlled.

And suddenly, I understood.

That man hadn’t been watching me.

He’d been reporting on me.

A chill raced down my spine.

“Drink,” Sofia said, pressing a glass into my hand.

I downed it without tasting it. I felt warmth spreading through me, dulling the edge of fear and replacing it with something reckless.

I looked up again—bolder this time.

The man from the café glanced down and met my gaze.

Not openly.

Carefully.

Like he knew he’d been caught.

He murmured something again, then disappeared into the shadows.

The man above didn’t move.

Didn’t stop watching me.

“This place has bad energy,” I muttered.

Sofia laughed. “You say that about every place with attractive men.”

“This feels different.”

I felt his energy around me before I saw him.

That presence—stronger now. Heavier.

A hand brushed the small of my back. Warm. Controlled. Deliberate.

I turned slowly, trying to maintain my gait as I was already feeling tipsy.

He stood too close.

Up close, he was devastating.

Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. A faint scar near his brow that only added to his danger. His cologne wrapped around me—deep, masculine, and sensual, I, wouldn't mind sniffing him out.

“You shouldn’t stare,” he said quietly.

My pulse jumped, but I held my ground. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “You noticed.”

“I always notice.”

His gaze dipped—my lips, my throat, down to my open cleavage—before returning to my eyes. “You look… tempting.”

Heat curled low in my stomach, and my nipples felt erect like someone was controlling them.

“I don’t know you,” I said.

“No,” he agreed softly. “But something in you wants to.”

“That’s a dangerous assumption.”

He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear. “Danger is relative.”

My fingers curled at my sides and my nipples felt tingly for some weird reason.

“Why are you watching me?” I whispered.

He straightened slowly. “Because the sight of you is not something I would willingly miss.”

His words unraveled something inside me—something I didn’t know existed.

“You sound like you know me,” I said, forcing myself back to reality.

“I know of you,” he corrected.

“That’s worse.”

A pause.

Then, quietly, “You should leave.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Tonight,” he said. “Go home with your friend. Don’t be alone.”

The exact words my aunt had used.

Suspicion flared. “And why would I listen to you?”

His eyes darkened. “Because not everyone here is watching you for the same reasons I am.”

Before I could respond, he stepped back, a slow, dangerous smile curving his lips.

“Goodnight, Alessia.”

He vanished into the crowd, leaving heat, confusion—and need—

Dante’s POV

“I think she knows she’s being watched.”

I didn’t look at Luca as he spoke. I didn't realize he was back again. My eyes remained fixed on the spot where Alessia had stood moments earlier.

“I know.”

Luca folded his arms. “She clocked me at the café. And tonight.”

“You were sloppy,” I said calmly.

“I needed confirmation.”

“There was never any doubt,” I replied. I had been watching her for years.

Silence stretched.

“Are you sure it was wise to show yourself?” Luca asked.

My chest tightened. “Enough.”

“She doesn’t know who you are yet,” he continued. “But she feels you. You saw it.”

“I did.”

“And that makes her dangerous.”

I turned sharply. “No. It makes her vulnerable.”

“If she remembers—”

“She won’t,” I cut in. “Not yet.”

I adjusted my cufflinks. “You’re dismissed.”

“And if she starts digging?”

My gaze darkened.

“Then,” I said quietly, “I stop watching from the shadows.”

The music thundered below us.

Alessia Moretti had stepped back into my world.

And this time—

I wouldn’t let her walk away again, our encounter keeps replaying in my head, the warmth from her skin, her erect nipples showing through the little clothing she had on. At that moment, I knew she would be the death of me.