Page 9 of Reckless Sinner

“Well I can recommend another kind of alcohol, if you want to branch out.” Dante sounded fond, like he was genuinely excited at the prospect of helping me expand my horizons.

“I’d just embarrass myself. Sophisticated women drink wine.”

An odd look flashed in Dante’s eyes. “Oh? Where’d you hear that?”

I genuinely had to think about it for a moment. Where had I heard that said? Who had told me that I should only drink wine? “It’s just something I know.”

Probably a magazine at some point, honestly.

Dante hummed. “Well, if you want… I think you’d like this one bourbon. Bourbon’s a bit sweeter than other whiskeys. Goes down real smooth. And it’ll taste good with the sliders you ordered.”

I took a breath that shook in my chest. “Sure, yeah, let’s do that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m paying.” Dante winked at me, then held his hand up for the server. “Could we get a glass of the Van Winkle Family Reserve for the lady? On the rocks, and the twenty year one if you have it.”

I stared at him. “I didn’t take you for a whisky man.”

“I’m not. Vincent, my oldest brother, is. Breaks our father’s Italian heart.” Dante grinned at me as the drink was set in front of me by the server. “He always asks Vincent what’s wrong with a good Florentine red. I think it’s the one thing they’ll argue about until the end of time.”

“Too busy arguing with you about other things?” I teased.

Dante gave an elegant shrug. Yes, that was the key—he exuded elegance. But also something else, underneath it. Something… primal.

An elegant predator. I liked it.

“He might be busy arguing with me if we spoke, but the last time I saw him was my graduation from law school. I think Marco’s keeping our dear father’s hands full these days. Something about a stripper.”

I laughed. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Marco is the definition of trouble. I’m sure he’ll find a way to make this bite all of us in the ass, including me.”

You have no idea,I thought. I took a quick sip of the bourbon for strength—and gasped as the strong, yet sweet burn filled my mouth then slid down my throat. Itwassmooth, like Dante had said, and yet—I liked the fire in it.

A playful, knowing spark danced in Dante’s dark eyes. “You like it?”

“A lot more than I thought I would.”

He chuckled. “I thought so. You’re a lot more daring than you’d like people to believe, aren’t you, Miss Weston?”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I’d always been what you might call ‘demure’. But clearly Dante saw something else in me. Something more.

A craving started up in me—not just to see more of Dante because I wanted him, but a craving to learn more about what he saw in me, the person he thought I was. Or could be.

“Maybe,” I replied.

Dante sipped his wine thoughtfully. “So, exactly how much do I owe you for convincing your father to take a liking to me?”

I nearly choked on my next sip of bourbon. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re the only person who’s decided that I’m not secretly working for my family.”

“Are you?”

“No. I haven’t done anything to help my father. I went to law school and I know he saw there was a possible… asset in that. But everything I’ve done since graduation has been for myself, my clients, and my career.”

I believed him. He had such anger in his voice, like he wasn’t really talking to me, but was speaking to his father, and to all the law-abiding citizens who had already decided that Dante was a bad egg just like the rest of his family. Again, I saw something lurking underneath the carefully constructed exterior, beneath the just-flashy-enough suit and the flawlessly done tie.

“Everyone else will know that, eventually,” I said. “Just because they’re hypocrites doesn’t mean that you can’t beat them. I mean you’re a lawyer, it’s your job to beat people and win arguments.”

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