Chapter 3: Taming the Mafia… or Trying To

Ishani had survived the first day without getting fired—a personal record, honestly. But this wasn’t just any event. It was the event. A high-profile corporate gala for billionaires, business sharks, and people who probably had offshore bank accounts and questionable morals.

In other words—Dante Valenti’s natural habitat.

Her job? To make sure everything ran smoothly. Which was hard when your boss looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbes: Scariest Rich People Edition.

She was halfway through organizing the guest list when a familiar voice cut through the air. "Still pretending to work?"

Ishani looked up to find Luca De Rossi, Dante’s right-hand man, leaning against the doorway like he had nowhere else to be. With his tailored suit, messy brown hair, and the kind of smirk that screamed "I get away with everything", he was the human version of a walking red flag.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t pretend. I excel.”

Luca chuckled. "You know, you’re either really brave or really stupid talking to Dante like that."

“Maybe both. But hey, I’m still here, right?”

He gave her a mock salute. "Respect. Most people are too scared to breathe around him."

"Good for them." She shrugged. "Fear wrinkles your face. I’m trying to age gracefully."

Luca snorted, pushing off the wall. "Careful, Ishani. If you keep talking like that, you might actually amuse him."

Amuse Dante Valenti? Yeah, right. The man probably considered smiling a cardinal sin.

Still, her curiosity itched. "What’s his deal, anyway?"

Luca’s smirk deepened. "If I told you, I’d have to kill you."

“Classic mafia answer,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She flashed him a sweet smile. "Now, unless you’re here to offer actual help, shouldn’t you be off doing… I don’t know, mysterious mafia errands?"

Luca grinned. "You’re fun. I hope you survive."

That makes two of us, buddy.

Later That Evening…

By the time the gala rolled around, the venue sparkled with obnoxious wealth—gold accents, crystal chandeliers, and an atmosphere thick with rich-people tension. Ishani hovered near the entrance, double-checking everything.

And then he arrived.

Dante Valenti didn’t walk into a room—he owned it. The air shifted, like everyone instinctively knew to stay the hell out of his way. Clad in an all-black suit, crisp and lethal, he was the picture of ruthless perfection.

Ishani swore the temperature dropped a few degrees.

He scanned the room once, eyes landing on her with surgical precision. And great—now he was walking toward her.

Play it cool, Ishani. Be normal.

"You’re on time." His voice was smooth and sharp, like a velvet-covered dagger.

“Shocking, right?” She smiled. "I figured it’s harder to fire someone who’s competent."

A pause. His gaze lingered on her a beat too long. "Hm."

Was that… approval? Or a polite way of imagining her disappearance?

Before she could decide, an older man approached Dante—a big-shot investor, judging by the way people practically bowed in his presence. "Mr. Valenti," the man greeted. "A pleasure, as always."

Dante nodded, the warmth in his voice dialed down to absolute zero. "Mr. Moretti."

Ishani, still standing there like the third wheel to a crime documentary, accidentally bumped the table behind her—sending a glass crashing to the floor.

Well, shit.

Both men turned. Dante’s jaw tightened a fraction, but it was Mr. Moretti who chuckled. "Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?"

Ishani bit back a snarky reply, but before she could speak, Dante did.

"She’s efficient," he said, his tone cool and cutting. "And I don’t keep incompetent people around, Mr. Moretti."

Ishani’s eyes widened. Was that… Dante defending her?

Mr. Moretti hummed, clearly unimpressed, but Dante didn’t seem to care. Without another glance, he turned back to her.

"Clean it up," he ordered softly. "Then meet me on the balcony. You’re coming with me to handle the next discussion."

Wait—what?

Before she could argue—or remind him that she was an event manager, not his PA—he was already walking away.

And just like that, Ishani had gone from barely surviving to officially in over her head.

TBC.

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