7 Nights With My Step Brother's Rival

The rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Moretti Tower, blurring the New York City skyline into a mess of grey and neon.

Inside, the silence was heavy. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"Please, Dante. Just listen to me for one second."

Sienna Blackwood stood in the center of the office, her heels digging into the plush carpet. She felt small. Every piece of furniture in this room was designed to make a person feel insignificant.

Especially the man sitting behind the mahogany desk.

Dante Moretti didn't look up. He was signing a stack of documents with a heavy fountain pen. The scratching of the nib was the only sound in the room.

He looked exactly like the tabloids described him: The Ice King. His dark hair was swept back perfectly, and his suit cost more than Sienna's entire college tuition.

"You have thirty seconds, Sienna," he said. His voice was a low, melodic growl that made the hair on her arms stand up. "And ten of them have already passed."

Sienna took a shaky breath. "Julian didn't mean to do it. The investment went south. He thought he could move the funds back before anyone noticed.

If you file those charges tomorrow, he'll go to prison for twenty years. Our father's heart won't take that. Please, settle out of court. We will pay you back every cent."

Dante finally looked up. His eyes were a piercing, cold grey. They stripped her bare, cataloging her fear, her desperation, and the way her pulse was jumping in her neck.

"With what money?" Dante leaned back, crossing his arms. "Your brother didn't just lose my ten million. He gambled away your family's remaining assets to cover his tracks.

The Blackwood name is a hollow shell, Sienna. You're broke."

The truth hit her like a physical blow. She knew things were bad, but she didn't know they were gone. Her stomach lurched.

"I didn't know," she whispered.

"Of course you didn't. Julian was too busy playing the big shot while he dragged you into the dirt with him." Dante stood up.

He was tall, well over six feet, and he moved with the predatory grace of a panther. He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her.

The scent of sandalwood and expensive whiskey hit her. It was masculine and overwhelming. Sienna wanted to step back, but her legs wouldn't move. She was trapped in his orbit.

"I don't want your family's money, Sienna. I have plenty of my own," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Then what do you want? Why did you agree to see me?"

Dante reached out. His fingers were warm as he tucked a stray lock of her damp hair behind her ear. The touch sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, a feeling she hated herself for having.

This man was her brother's enemy. He was the man who had spent five years trying to