Page 37 of Made for Saints

The tension between us crackled like a live wire, and I hated how much I wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if he felt as real as he looked. But before I could act on the thought, he stood, his movements slow and deliberate.

He moved closer, his shadow falling over me as he leaned down, his hand brushing against my cheek. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt through me that left me breathless.

“Brave little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, his voice a low rumble that made my skin prickle. “Walking into dark corners…”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“But bravery gets pretty girls killed in this world.”

“Are you going to kill me?” It was supposed to be a brave question, but all I could muster was a whisper.

His fingers slid into my hair, tangling gently as he tilted my head back, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burned with something dark and unrelenting, and my heart pounded against my ribs. My pussy clenching on nothing as my body reacted.

“There are worse things than death, tesoro,” he said, hisvoice a whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Like what?” I challenged, though my voice wavered.

“Like me.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and threat, and I hated how much I wanted to close the distance between us, to see if his lips tasted as dangerous as his words.

But he pulled back, his hand falling away as he straightened, leaving me cold and aching in his absence. He didn’t say another word, didn’t look back as he walked away, his glass of whiskey abandoned on the table.

I stared after him, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and desire. He was dangerous, a storm I couldn’t control, and yet I couldn’t deny the pull he had over me.

With a shaky breath, I reached for his glass, the amber liquid glinting in the candlelight. I hated whiskey, hated the burn of it, but I raised the glass to my lips and drank it down in one gulp, the fire in my throat matching the fire in my veins.

Because no matter how much I wanted to deny it, Dante Conti had already set me ablaze.

Chapter 14

Dante

The party had ended hours ago, but the tension in my shoulders hadn’t eased. My brothers were already waiting when I arrived at the private lounge of our estate. The room was dimly lit, the heavy scent of cigar smoke curling through the air, mingling with the sharp tang of whiskey. Luca sat sprawled in one of the leather chairs, his boots propped up on the glass coffee table, while Rafe leaned against the bar, swirling a glass of bourbon like it held the answers to the universe.

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Rafe drawled, his sharp grin flashing as I stepped inside. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

I ignored him, shrugging out of my jacket and draping it over the back of a chair. The party earlier had been a slow burn of aggravation, and now, with the party behind us, I doubted my brothers’ company would do much to help. Still, there were matters to discuss—business, family, and the growing storm brewing on the horizon.

“Pour me one,” I said, nodding toward the bar as I loosened my tie. I sank into the chair across from Luca, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Rafe slid a glass across the polished surface of the bar before sauntering over, his movements as lazy as they were calculated. “You look like hell,” he said, dropping into the chair beside Luca. “Rough day?”

I took a slow sip of the whiskey, the burn grounding me. “You could say that.”

Luca smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Let me guess. Ricci drama?”

I didn’t respond immediately, my gaze fixed on the amber liquid in my glass. The events of the day replayed in my mind—Emilia’s defiance, her vulnerability, the way she’d looked at me like I was both her savior and her executioner. It was maddening, the effect she had on me. Dangerous.

“You could say that too,” I said finally, my tone clipped.

Luca exhaled a plume of smoke, his expression thoughtful. “What’s the plan, then? With the Riccis, I mean. You think they’re involved in the money issue?”

My jaw clenched. The missing funds had been a thorn in my side for weeks, a problem that refused to resolve itself no matter how many loose ends I tied off. .

“I’m close,” I said, my tone curt. “The forensic accountant will be looking into it. It’s only a matter of time.”

“And when you find out who’s behind it?” Rafe asked, though the glint in his eyes suggested he already knew the answer.

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