Dante’s eyebrows raise. “Just enjoying the show.”

“Oh yeah?” I bite my lip, feeling a flush rise in my cheeks. “You think you’re better than us?”

“I know I am.”

I laugh, louder than I intend, and the whole table turns to look at us. Aunt Carla’s eyes flick between me and Dante, her grin widening.

“What’s going on over there?” she teases. “You two having your own little party?”

“Maybe,” I say, my voice a little too playful. I can’t help it.

The wine has gone to my head. And the way Dante’s watching me...it’s making me forget everything else.

Like all the reasons I’m supposed to hate him, all the reasons I shouldn’t be flirting with him right now.

“Maybe,” Dante echoes, sending a thrill up my spine.

Aunt Carla waggles her eyebrows like she’s just found her new favorite source of gossip. “Well, well, well...”

I wave her off, laughing again. “Nothing to see here, Aunt Carla.”

But there’s something to see, and I know it.

I can feel it.

There’s heat between me and Dante, simmering under the surface.

Like a fire that’s about to burst into flames.

I’m tipsy, reckless, and bound to get burned.

As the game winds down, the rest of the family begins to disperse. People head off to bed or wander into the living room to watch a cheesy Christmas movie.

Aunt Carla gives me a knowing look before heading off with the others. Then, it’s just Dante and me at the table.

Alone.

The lodge is quiet now. I can hear the crackling of the fire in the next room and the faint sound of Christmas music playing in the background. The warmth from the wine is still buzzing through me.

It’s making everything feel softer, more dreamlike. And Dante...he’s still watching me, his gaze heavy, unreadable.

I stand up, swaying slightly as the room tilts. I steady myself, but the alcohol hit me harder than I thought.

“Careful,” Dante says, standing up to catch my graceless body.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, waving him off. But I’m not fine.

My head’s spinning, and the heat that’s been simmering between us all night is suddenly unbearable.

I need to do something.

Say something.

Anything to break this tension.

I take a step toward him, my pulse quickening. His eyes darken, and I can see the shift in him, the way his body tenses.

He knows what’s coming.