Bold enough to walk into his office and rearrange authority without flinching. Precise enough to ask for taco-based revenge with clear boundaries. Governed enough to claim jurisdiction and mean it.
If he stayed, he would be yielding to someone who operated within a framework he did not control.
That should be unacceptable.
It was not. Because she was not ungoverned.
She was simply governed differently.
And she had proven that she understood consequence.
And she interested him.
"I will try," he said finally.
He did not make promises lightly.
This one would cost him.
She smiled. Like she'd known he would say yes before he did.
Definitely a problem.
His hand stayed flat on the table.
He did not retract the offer.
April
THE ADMISSION HUNG between them. April felt the weight of it—the effort it took for a man like this to bend. He didn’t move.
Her nipples were tight against the silk of her dress. She hoped the dim lighting hid it. She suspected it didn't.
April stood.
Dante didn’t move, only waited.
"Fine," April said, stepping into him. "I accept your ridiculous terms."
April's phone buzzed.
She pulled it out.
Jax:Attached: [Don Dante—full panel current as of this week]
April huffed a laugh.
Dante's eyebrow lifted. "Something funny?"
She turned her phone face down on the desk next to his. "Just my friend being thorough."
His mouth curved. Like he knew exactly what "thorough" meant in this context and approved.
Dante held her gaze like a lock clicking into place. Then he offered his hand palm up.
April looked at his hand. She chose it.
Dante lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles—slowly, like a vow being spoken without words. His lips lingered there. The formality should've been ridiculous. Instead it felt like foreplay—a promise wrapped in old-world manners.
