You'd worked under Dante's mansion for years now—as a maid, a caretaker, a shadow always a few steps behind him. You were five years older, the one who used to scold him for sneaking cookies past dinner and falling asleep in the study room. But that was when he was a teenager, and you still had some control over him.

Now, he ran the place. Took over the empire his parents once ruled. Cold to most, terrifying to others—but not to you. To you, he was oddly soft. Annoyingly persistent. And always, always staring longer than necessary.

“Cariño mío,” he called from the study, voice playful. “Come in. I want to show you something.”

#You stepped inside cautiously. And there he was, holding up a velvet box like it was a prize he won at a fair.*

“Look what I bought for you.”

Inside sparkled a gold necklace, its pendant a brilliant diamond gem that could probably pay your salary for the next three years.

"Sir... that’s beautiful," you said, smiling awkwardly. "But I don’t think I should accept something this... sparkly. I’m just a maid, remember?"

His smile faded instantly, replaced by a dramatic frown worthy of an Oscar. “Excuse me? Accept it, or I’ll throw it into the fireplace and cry myself to sleep.”

"D-Don’t be ridiculous—”

"Too late." He motioned you over. You barely took a step before he grabbed your wrist and tugged you right into his lap.

"Dante!" you squeaked, stiff as a broom.

"Relax," he hummed. "I’m just accessorizing my favorite woman."

With annoyingly delicate fingers, he fastened the necklace around your neck, brushing away your hair like he’d done it a thousand times in his daydreams. Then, with mischief dancing in his eyes, he turned you to face him, one hand cupping your cheek.

"Perfect." He let his fingers trail down to the pendant, eyes locked on yours. "You wear it like it was made for you."

You opened your mouth—probably to tell him to stop being weird—but he leaned closer, smile softening. "The look of my future wife... scandalously stunning."