Page 27 of Handsome Devil

Albert whimpered, and his eyes widened with fear. “Wh-what are you doing? What’s going on?” he demanded in a trembling voice.

Dante’s nostrils flared with a burst of anger, and his body vibrated with fury. He could hire someone to take care of this situation for him, but this was personal. This particular task could not be passed on to anyone else. He relished putting assholes like this in their place and hadn’t had the pleasure in a long time.

“Don’t you ever put a hand on my fiancée—my future wife—again,¿comprendes?” Dante asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes,” Albert squeaked immediately.

“If you come near her again, intimidate her again, in any way—words or actions—I will come back to see you and put my foot so far up your ass, you’ll taste leather for months. Do not think I’ll send someone else to do my dirty work. I’ll do it myself. Ilovedirty work.” He bent closer to whisper the next words. “And don’t bother calling the police. I learned a long time ago that life is easier with them on my side. They love me at Houston PD, and Chief Charles and I will be playing golf together on Saturday.”

With one final shove, Dante straightened. He walked out with the same long strides he used to walk in. Albert’s executive assistant hovered outside the door until he had passed, and then she rushed to the aid of her employer.

He heard her whisper, “Are you all right, Mr. Strong?”

He didn’t hear the response and didn’t need to.

All that mattered was Albert Strong had gotten the message loud and clear.

Unfortunately for him, Dante wasn’t done yet.

13

“Shoo,” Grace said, adding the universal hand motion at Annabelle.

Dante’s family had arrived minutes earlier and after meeting them and making sure everyone was settled out on the terrace, Annabelle hurried into the kitchen. She was nervous. Before their arrival, she changed her hair twice, finally settling on a top knot and small earrings.

“I want to make sure everything is perfect,” Annabelle said.

Grace clasped her hands together and directed a motherly look at Annabelle with pursed lips. “Last month I coordinated your engagement party with hundreds of guests. Why do you think I can’t handle a simple dinner with seven people?”

The chef, a burly Black man with a bluesy voice, released a hearty chuckle as he arranged the appetizers—crispy empanadas with a Texan twist, stuffed with smoky barbecued meat and accompanied by pineapple salsa. The entire meal was a fusion of Texan and Venezuelan cuisines.

“Give her a break. She’s nervous about meeting her future in-laws. She wants to impress them,” he said.

“All the more reason why she should go back outside and let us do our job,” Grace said pointedly.

She was right, but Chef was also right. Annabelle wanted Dante’s family to like her. The first time he and she married, she never met his family, and they divorced so quickly they didn’t get a chance to know her. She had no idea what he’d told them about her since then.

“Fine, I’ll go, but?—”

“No buts.” Grace grasped her shoulders and spun her toward the door. “I’ll send out the appetizers shortly.”

With a gentle push, she forced Annabelle through the open door. Reluctantly, she placed one foot in front of the other and headed toward the terrace, wiping her sweaty hands on her slacks.

The sound of laughter greeted her ears as she approached the gathered group. Everyone was dressed casually for the meeting of the families. Dante’s father, Edgar, was in a wheelchair near the pool, chatting with his other son, Emilio, a leaner, younger version of Dante with the same dark hair and dark eyes.

Dante approached, dressed in jeans and a pullover shirt stretched across his broad chest. How did he manage to look sexy in each outfit he wore?

“Everything okay?” he asked in a lowered voice.

“I went to check on the food. Chef and Grace said the meal will be ready on time, and appetizers will arrive in a few minutes.”

“Here. You look like you need this.” Dante handed her a glass of white wine.

Their fingers touched and sent a spark of awareness along her nerves. The other night she’d dreamt about the kiss at the engagement party and the tingly sensations that had swept through her lady parts in his arms. She woke up with a start, the earthy scent of his cologne so real she became temporarily confused because it was as if he was lying right next to her in the bed.

Annabelle gratefully drank a mouthful of wine. “Do I look nervous?”

“I doubt my family notices, but I know you. I can tell you’re… uneasy. Don’t worry, I haven’t said terrible things about you to my family.”

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