Page 20 of Made for Saints

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached around me, his arm brushing mine as he grabbed the kettle from the stove. The movement was deliberate, his proximity suffocating. My breath hitched as I felt his chest graze my shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a net.

“You’re making it wrong,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm as he set the kettle down and opened a cupboard. “Loose-leaf tea is better. And you’re supposed to boil the water first.”

I turned to glare at him, but the words died in my throat when I realized just how close he was. His dark eyes met mine, and for a moment, the air between us felt charged, like the seconds before a thunderstorm. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

“I didn’t realize you were such a tea expert,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

He smirked, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips beforereturning to my eyes. “I’m full of surprises, Emilia. You however I think i’ve got you figured out”

The way he said my name made the heat pool low in my stomach. I stepped back to put some distance between us. But the counter was behind me, and there was nowhere to go. He didn’t move, his smirk deepening as if he enjoyed watching me squirm.

His hand brushed against mine as he reached for the tea jar, and I hated the way my skin burned at the contact. I watched his hands as he measured out the tea leaves with precise movements, noting the expensive watch on his wrist. Not the one I'd stolen, I noticed. This one was even more impressive.

“Pretty bird in a gilded cage. Isn’t that how you see yourself?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. “Stop assuming you know anything about me.”

“Assuming?” He tilted his head slightly, a slow smirk curving his lips, though his eyes remained sharp, unrelenting. “I don’t assume. I only speak to what I’ve seen.”

He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking until the heat of him coiled around me. “And what I’ve seen,” he murmured, his voice soft but cutting, “is a girl who was born into a world that would chew her up and spit her out without a second thought. A girl who walks through it with her eyes half-closed, as if she doesn’t see the wolves circling her.”

My stomach twisted, but I forced my expression to stay neutral, even as his words scraped against something raw inside me.

“You sneak out of this house,” he continued, his tone dropping lower, more intimate, “like it’s a game. Like there aren’t men out there who would do far worse than just kill you if they caught you.”

My pulse thundered in my ears, but I refused to look away. “You don’t know anything about why I do what I do,” I said, my voice steady, though I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.

His lips curved again, but this time there was no humor in it. Just something dark and knowing. “Don’t I?” His gaze flicked down, lingering on my lips for a moment too long, before dragging back up to meet my eyes. “I know you take risks that make no sense. Stealing from men who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in you. For what? A thrill? To feel alive?”

Before I could respond, his hand rose, slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing along the line of my jaw. The touch was maddeningly light, but it burned all the same, sending a jolt through me I couldn’t hide.

“You have everything,” he said quietly, his thumb pausing just below my bottom lip. “And yet you throw yourself into danger, like none of it matters. Like you don’t matter.” His voice softened, the words sinking deep. “But you do, Emilia. Your life does matter. Even if you can’t see it.”

I swallowed hard, my breath catching as his thumb grazed the edge of my lip. “Then maybe you should stop pretending you’ve figured me out,” I said, my voice sharper now, though it wavered at the edges.

Dante didn’t move. His gaze stayed locked on mine, unflinching, as if he could see straight through me. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until he finally spoke—his tone infuriatingly calm, like I hadn’t just tried to push him away.

“You know,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to the teacup on the table before returning to me, “you shouldn’t steep tea for longer than three minutes. Otherwise, it becomes bitter.”

"Like you?" The quip slipped out before I could stop it.

"Careful, princess. I'm being unusually patient with you."

His hand shot out, fingers brushing my hair as he tucked a loose strand behind my ear. The gesture was gentle, almost intimate, but there was nothing soft about the way he looked at me.

"Patient?" I turned my head slightly, immediately regretting it when I realized how close his face was to mine. "Is that what you call this?"

His eyes darkened dangerously. "Would you prefer Ishowed you impatience?"

The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke the moment. I quickly stepped away from Dante, though the counter had left me nowhere to go. My father appeared in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral as he took in the scene.

"Dante." He nodded in greeting. "I see you've found your way in."

"Your security needs work." Dante's tone was casual, but I caught the implied threat. He still hadn't moved away from me.

My father's eyes narrowed slightly. "Emilia, don't you have plans this evening?"

"Yes." I seized the excuse to escape, though my voice came out shakier than I'd like. "I'm meeting Adrianna. She's getting married to Michael next month, we’re planning."

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