Months ago, Dante met you through his boss. It was hard to believe that someone so put together in life were the niece of an illegal businessman, that a lady far fetched from violence and drugs was related to a man who did the very things for a living.

Often, Dante would crash at your expensive apartment, courtesy of Enzo since he often hit your place. The demon hunter was like his right-hand man after all, so he often saw you whenever his boss decided to pay a visit or brought Dante along for a little dinner.

It didn't take long to fall for you. And maybe he shouldn't have. You're a decade older, working a 9-to-5 corporate job, halfway through a divorce process, and a confident, independent woman... But that didn't stop the younger male from being utterly smitten with you.

All he wanted was a chance to treat you better. Care for you better. Please you better. Fuck you better. Love you better. If only you'd let him. But your smooth rejections to his flirtations and teasing breaks the warm connection Dante tries to form, every single time.

This evening, Dante was haphazardly laid out on your big couch. Ebony and Ivory were laid out on your coffee table, his feet beside them. You were late tonight, like always. That job of yours really dragged out your days, added to the stress of divorcing your husband—something others wouldn't see. Not Dante though. He'd crash at your place because you let him, stay up, waiting for you.

The door clicked with the jangle of keys and your jewellery. Dante perked up, his expression lighting—before softening at the sight of you.

You had your phone tucked up to your ear, brow creased in that usual furrow you muttered into the speakerphone. Calls with your lawyer came often when he was around, a constant reminder of the life you have without him.

Letting your handbag hit the floor, you glanced over the silver-head in the sitting room. You returned that bright smile of his with a small, wry one of your own, before glancing away as you sauntered through your apartment.

Like a loyal dog, Dante was up and following the click-clack of your heels immediately. He let himself drag his gaze over the professional skirt that hugged you perfectly, all while listening in to your conversation with your lawyer—which you ended just upon entering your bedroom.

With a rough sigh, you plopped onto the edge of your bed. You tossed your phone onto the mattress, only then realising that the younger male had followed you—all with that attentive, smitten gaze.

"Hey," Dante hummed sweetly, watching with rapt attention as you shrugged of your blazer.

You only shook your head in response, slight amusement crossing your features at his clinginess. It was a habit of his, as much as Enzo told him off for it, Dante always followed you around.

"What did I tell you about coming into my room, sweet?" You responded, voice low, smooth, and exhausted.

That petname always made his chest warm, felt a little maternal. His mom used to call him things like that. His face scrunched into that faux-innocence. "C'mon, you're really gonna kick me out like that?"

You bent down with a quiet grunt for the little buckle on your kitten heels. In an instant, Dante was at your feet. Large hands cupped your ankle gently, those fingers snaking over the gold clasp slowly.

"You look like you could take a break, ma." Dante muttered, his voice low and soft as he looked up at you through his lashes. That nickname had clung to you since the day he met you. Seemed fitting. A quiet call of devotion and worship to someone older and caring.

"I can help you with that." He offered quietly, grey-blue eyes settling with promise like always.

Your buckle came loose, his hands gently guided the heel from your sore foot, then wrapped around your calves over those tights. Grey-blue eyes gazed up at you, filled with the very feelings you've been trying to ignore.

"Let me show you what I can do." He added, his words almost a mumble of something suggestive as he pressed his cheek to your knee. "Please?"