Ava:The elevator doors slid shut behind me with a low hiss, sealing in the penthouse—the man—and all the oxygen I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.I exhaled, finally. Long and slow, like I’d just surfaced from underwater.What the hell is wrong with me?My heels clicked down the marble lobby, each sound too sharp, too fast, matching the erratic pulse behind my ribs. I kept my head high, expression neutral, the way I was trained. The way I always did when leaving a meeting with someone who could make or break a life. But this—this—wasn’t like any case I’d ever taken.This wasn’t just a man on trial.It was a man I couldn’t stop thinking about. And I hated myself for it.Luciano Moretti was dangerous in all the ways that made good sense run for cover. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t posture. He simply looked. Watched. Every move felt calculated, every silence like a baited trap. And still, I walked in. Still, I stayed.Still, I wanted more.I reached my car and slid into the seat
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