Page 2 of Sold to the Silver Foxes (Forbidden Hearts #6)

DANTE

Amber swirls in my glass, and I’m left wondering if this is really the best I can do with my evening. My choices tonight were this place or sitting at home, watching TV.

I hate TV.

Nico told me to stay out of trouble for the night, so here I am. This quaint French bistro tucked away on a side street, apparently “the place to be” if you’re seeking subtle elegance and artisanal pastries. It’s cute, but not as nice as anything in Paris.

Honestly, I stumbled in because I spotted the discreet sign and felt like grabbing a decent drink—plus, I needed to escape the stifling air in Sal’s office. He doesn’t drink like he used to, so there was no chance he’d keep up with me tonight.

Four scotches later, here I am, trying to recall the last time something truly thrilled me.

I’ve swum with sharks off the coast of South Africa, flown a wingsuit over the Swiss Alps, and summited mountains that left me gasping in awe.

But now, at thirty-eight, I’m…bored. Not just a little bored— existentially bored.

“You doing okay there, pal?” the bartender asks, arching an eyebrow as he polishes a wineglass. He’s tall, with a neat goatee and a casual swagger. His name tag reads Gabriel .

“I’m peachy,” I say with a dry laugh, twirling the glass in my hand. “Just taking a moment to reflect on the joys of a midlife crisis. You know, that special time when you’ve done everything you can think of, and suddenly it all feels…stale.”

I’m not usually the type to pour out my soul to some random bartender, but four scotches have loosened my tongue. Besides, he seems unfazed by my rambling. Occupational hazard for him, I suppose. I’ll be sure to tip him well to make up for it.

He sets the wineglass aside. “Yeah? That’s rough. Especially if you’re used to seeking out thrills.”

I let out a short snort. “Thrills, yeah. I’ve done it all.

Look, I’m Dante Moretti—you might’ve heard of Moretti Brands?

High fashion, crazy runway shows, overpriced handbags.

That’s my family’s empire. I’m supposedly the VP of marketing, but really I just do as I please.

Travel around, claim it’s for ‘location scouting.’” I use air quotes and nearly knock my glass over.

“Still, it’s all on the company dime, so I shouldn’t complain…

except that I’m bored out of my mind. Spoiled little rich boy, right? ”

He chuckles lightly. “Sounds like you’ve had a life most people would envy.”

“Yeah, you’d think so. I’ve flown to Tokyo for a fugu dinner.

I’ve gone skydiving at dawn and hit the beach by noon for kitesurfing.

I’ve got more stamps in my passport than most folks do in a lifetime.

I could do all that again tomorrow, and it wouldn’t give me the same spark it used to.

I know, because I’ve tried.” I swirl the scotch, watching the liquid coat the sides of the glass.

“Did a tour of my greatest hits, and I kept thinking, is this it? Am I doomed to float through the next few decades like a zombie with a trust fund?”

Gabriel props an elbow on the bar, giving me his full attention. “Thirty-eight isn’t exactly ancient, you know.”

My phone buzzes on the counter, probably my brother Nico checking if I’m heading back to the office anytime soon. Technically, I was supposed to attend a meeting about next year’s summer collection. But after an hour stuck with him and Salvatore bickering over spreadsheets, I bolted.

Let them handle the actual business. I’m useless when it comes to that stuff.

“How about women?” Gabriel asks in a mild tone. “You find no excitement there?”

I let out a half laugh, half groan. “There’s always been a supply of them around—models, brand influencers, socialites looking for a fling, gold diggers…I’ve met them all. I can’t remember the last time I actually cared about a date.”

“Maybe what you need isn’t a fling. Maybe it’s something…bigger.”

I arch an eyebrow. “My family has enough drama without adding a wedding to the mix.”

“If you really feel like you’ve tasted everything life has to offer, maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“You got a secret treasure map hidden under the counter? Because I’ve done treasure hunting, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Without a word, he reaches into his back pocket and slips out a sleek black business card. When he slides it across the bar, I notice there’s no logo, just a phone number in silver lettering that catches the light.

I pick it up, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not about to sell me your script, are you?”

“You want color back in your life? Give that number a call, in private. Tell them Gabriel says hello.”

I examine the card, running my thumb over the embossed digits. “You’re not gonna elaborate?”

“Let’s just say it’ll be interesting enough to at least get your attention.”

I can’t help the wry grin that tugs at my mouth. “Interesting is good. I’m starved for interesting.”

“Call them.” Gabriel’s expression stays calm, like this is business as usual, but I notice a flicker of satisfaction. “You won’t regret it.”

I stand, straightening the cuffs of my suit jacket. It’s casual black, since I didn’t plan on making a formal appearance anywhere. I briefly recall Nico lecturing me that I should dress in “classic Moretti” to promote brand synergy. I told him synergy can blow me.

Sliding a few bills onto the bar—far more than my tabs usually warrant—I give Gabriel a polite salute. “Thanks for the conversation. And a mystery.”

I turn to go, and a flash of auburn hair behind the hostess stand catches my eye.

Gorgeous. Maybe it’s the scotch, maybe it’s my aimless mood, but I find myself drifting in her direction.

She’s busy with a few stray menus, so she doesn’t see me approach until I’m practically at her elbow.

When she turns around, her green eyes lock on mine, and for a second, I’m caught off guard. She looks like trouble.

Perfect.

“May I help you?” she asks.

I open my mouth, but words momentarily escape me. Something about her strikes me, and I can’t put my finger on it. “I suppose if there’s anything I need, I’ll come back and ask for you.”

She blinks, then recovers with a small professional smile. “Of course. Enjoy your evening.”

It’s a throwaway exchange, but it leaves a spark I haven’t felt in a while. I linger another moment, eyes flicking down to the name tag pinned to her shirt. Tabitha. Suits her, I think. My typical lines feel cheesy under her gaze, so I just nod and head for the door.

Outside, the air is crisp, hinting that summer’s nearing its end. My limousine awaits at the curb—another perk of being a Moretti. The driver steps out to open the door, but I wave him off. “Give me a sec, Luca.”

I fish the black card from my pocket. Glancing up and down the quiet street, I step a few paces away from the bistro’s entrance, leaning against a lamppost. My phone’s in my other hand, and I punch in the digits, heart thumping more than I’d like to admit.

It’s ridiculous. For all I know, this is some hoax or a shady business deal I want no part of. Only one way to find out.

On the third ring, a smooth voice answers, “Good evening. Who may I say is calling?”

“Dante Moretti. Gabriel says hello.”

There’s a pause on the other end—just a breath, really—then the voice brightens. “Ah, Mr. Moretti. Very good. Are you alone at the moment?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to be connected to the coordinator of our virginity auction?”

For the first time in a while, I’m speechless. My pulse thrums in my ears. I blow out a breath, scanning the empty sidewalk to make sure no one overhears me. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.” No hint of a joke or denial.

I’ll call their bluff. “Yes.”

“One moment, please.”

The virginity auction coordinator has classy jazz piano hold music. What the actual fuck?

“Adventure number ten thousand and one,” I murmur to myself. Maybe I’ve finally found a new mountain to climb. And if it leads me nowhere, at least I can say I tried. If it leads me somewhere unexpected—well, that might be exactly what I need.

For the first time in a while, I’m not bored.