"Tease Me One More Time..." the Mafia Boss Said—She Had No Idea Who He Was

The Grand Bretagne Hotel in Athens was a palace of marble, gold leaf, and crystal.

Classical music echoed through the grand ballroom, where Europe’s elite—corrupt politicians, shipping magnates, arms dealers, and high-society aristocrats—mingled under massive chandeliers.

When Dante Moretti descended the sweeping marble staircase, the entire room seemed to pause.

Beside him, Emily walked with her chin held high, though her heart was pounding like a drum inside her chest. The red silk gown Dante’s stylists had chosen fit her like a second skin. It featured a daring low back, a thigh-high slit, and a sweetheart neckline that highlighted her ivory skin. Her honey-blonde hair was pinned up in an elegant cascade of curls, and a diamond necklace worth more than her Ohio neighborhood rested heavily against her collarbone.

Dante kept his hand firmly resting on the small of her back. His touch was warm, possessive, and surprisingly steadying amidst the sea of hungry, dangerous eyes staring at them.

"Keep your shoulders back," Dante murmured smoothly, leaning down as if whispering a sweet endearment into her ear. "Smile, sweetheart. You are the most captivating woman in this room, and every man in this hall knows it."

"They aren't looking at me because I'm captivating," Emily whispered back under her breath, maintaining a radiant, fake smile. "They're looking at me because they want to know if I'm your new mistress or your latest victim."

"Why not both?" Dante teased softly, his fingers pressing slightly firmer against her back, sending a shiver down her spine.

Before she could bite back a response, a tall, strikingly beautiful woman in an emerald green gown stepped into their path. She had sharp, icy blue eyes, raven hair, and an expression of pure, unadulterated venom.

"Dante," the woman purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "I didn't think you had the courage to show your face in Athens after what happened in Cyprus."

"Bianca," Dante replied calmly, his tone utterly indifferent. "I go wherever I please. The Mediterranean belongs to the Moretti family."

Bianca Volkov’s icy eyes flicked over to Emily, scanning her from head to toe with disgusted contempt. "And who is this little street stray you’ve dressed up in silk? I heard a rumor you picked up a waitress in Santorini."

Emily felt her cheeks flush with anger, but before Dante could speak, Emily stepped forward slightly, meeting Bianca’s glare head-on.

"I may have been a waitress," Emily said, her American accent crisp and unyielding. "But at least I earn my keep. What do you do, Bianca? Spend your father’s blood money on emeralds to hide how pale you look?"

A heavy silence fell over the immediate circle of guests. Bianca’s jaw dropped in disbelief, her eyes flashing with murderous fury.

Behind Emily, Dante let out a low, deeply amused laugh. He stepped up beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against his side.

"Careful, Bianca," Dante warned softly, his voice dropping into a deadly register. "My companion has a temper, and unlike me, she lacks the patience for diplomatic pleasantries."

Bianca glared at them both, her fists clenching at her sides. "My father will hear about this, Dante. Enjoy your night while you can. It will be your last."

She turned on her high heels and swept away into the crowd.

"That was dangerous," Dante murmured near Emily’s ear as they walked toward the VIP terrace. "And entirely brilliant."

"She insulted me," Emily said defensively, though she couldn't hide the small flush of pride in her chest. "I don't care who her father is."

"I know," Dante said softly, stopping near the edge of the darkened stone balcony overlooking the illuminated Acropolis. He turned her around to face him, gazing down at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "You have a brave heart, Emily Hart. It’s going to get you killed... or make you unstoppable."

Before she could process his words, a muffled thud rang out from the gardens below.

Instantly, Dante’s demeanor changed. The calm billionaire vanished, replaced by an apex predator. He grabbed Emily, shoving her behind his body just as glass shattered across the terrace floor.

A high-powered sniper rifle round tore through the marble pillar right where Dante’s head had been a fraction of a second earlier.

Screams erupted inside the ballroom as panic swept through the crowd.

"Lucian! Cover the north exit!" Dante roared into his collar mic, drawing a sleek black pistol from inside his tailored jacket. He grabbed Emily’s hand, pulling her violently toward the service stairs. "Move! Now!"

They sprinted down the dark, concrete stairwell as gunfire echoed from the floor above. Emily’s high heels slammed against the steps, her red dress rustling wildly.

As they burst through the ground-floor exit into the alleyway where Dante’s armored SUV waited, another gunshot echoed through the night air.

Dante grunted softly, his body staggering forward against the vehicle’s side door.