Page 14 of Made for Saints

“It’s askill,” Logan insisted. “If the casino’s dumb enough to let you do it, that’s on them.”

“You’re dumb enough to think you of all people would get away with it,” Luca muttered, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Don’t act like you’re above it,” Logan fired back, before his gaze flicked to me. His grin widened instantly, as he turned to me and I could already tell he was about to say something stupid. “We’re just keeping the mood light. You looked like you were about to combust over there.”

Luca smirked, but Logan wasn’t done. His grin widened, a little too cocky for his own good. “Though, I gotta say, if you’re all broody like this because of Emilia, I get it.”

My jaw tightened instantly, but Logan kept going, oblivious to the warning signs.

“She’s always been a smokeshow,” he said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “I mean, come on, half the guys were obsessed with her. I don’t blame you for—”

“Logan,” I interrupted, my voice low and steady, though there was no mistaking the edge beneath it.

He stopped mid-sentence, glancing at me with a raised brow.

“I like you, and for some reason, my brother has some sort of loyalty to your friendship,” I said, my tone calm but unyielding. “But I’m not afraid to break your nose.”

The words hung in the air for a long moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Logan blinked, his grin faltering as it finally registered.

Rafe chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the show.

“What did I say?” Logan asked, turning to Luca as I rose to my feet, my movements deliberate and controlled.

“You’re an idiot,” Luca muttered, taking another sip of his drink.

I didn’t wait for any more commentary. The sound of their voices faded as I strode toward the exit, the cooler night air a welcome relief from the suffocating heat of the room.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. What the fuck was wrong with me? I wasn’t the kind of man who let anyone get under my skin like this.

And yet, Emilia was everywhere. In my head. Under my skin. In the air I breathed.

I cursed under my breath, shaking my head. I needed to get a grip—before the distraction became dangerous.

Rafe watched me with a knowing smirk, but I ignored him, striding toward the exit without a backward glance.

The cool night air hit me as I stepped onto the deck, the distant sound of waves crashing against the hull filling the silence. The party had mostly dispersed by now, the remaining guests too drunk or too shaken to linger. Good. I needed the quiet.

Leaning against the railing, I stared out at the dark expanse of water, my thoughts a tangled mess. Emilia’s face lingered in my mind, her wide eyes and trembling hands, the way she’d laughed despite the fear. That dark hair that I wanted to wrap around my fist so bad. She was an enigma, pulling me in when I knew better than to get too close. And for a man like me, that was dangerous.

I didn’t want to care about her. Didn’t want to feel this...pull, this maddening need to protect her. She was a complication I couldn’t afford, a distraction in a world where distractions got you killed.

And yet, I couldn’t stay away.

The sound of footsteps behind me broke through my thoughts, and I turned to find Emilia standing there, her arms wrapped around herself as if to ward off the chill. Her dress was gone, replaced by a simple sweater and jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked softer like this, more vulnerable. But her eyes were just as fierce as ever.

I wasn't sure if she looked better like this, or dressed in designer. Either way, she had a knack for making it impossible not to notice her.

“You’re brooding,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of mischief, echoing Rafe’s earlier words.

I arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. “And you’re not?”

She tilted her head, crossing her arms tighter as if bracing against both the cold and the conversation. “I don’t brood. Ireflect.”

“Is that what you call it?” I asked, stepping closer, unable to help myself. “Because from here, it looks suspiciously like brooding.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t let the smile break through. “Well, excuse me if I’m not in the mood to smile and wave after the day we’ve had.”

“Fair point,” I said, nodding slowly, “but I think you’d look better if you tried. You know, smiling. Maybe even laughing. I hear it’s good for the soul.”

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