Page 79 of Made for Saints

I stared at the dress, my cheeks flushing. “Are you serious? That’s...that’s way too much.”

“It’s perfect,” Dante said with conviction, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Go try it on.”

“I don’t know…” I hesitated, my fingers brushing against the silky fabric. The dress was undeniably gorgeous, but it screamed attention—something I wasn’t sure I wanted.

“Emilia,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze met mine. “Trust me.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten, and before I could talk myself out of it, I snatched the dress from his hand and headed for the fitting room.

Inside, I slipped into the dress, the cool silk sliding over my skin like water. It fit perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places, the slit revealing just enough leg to make me feel both powerful and exposed. When I stepped out a few minutes later, my movements hesitant, Dante’s reaction stopped me cold.

His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something softer, something almost...reverent. His dark eyes swept over me slowly, lingering just long enough to make my cheeks flush.

“See?” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Perfect.”

I shifted nervously, my hands smoothing over the fabric. “It’s a little...revealing.”

“That’s the point,” Dante said, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’ll turn heads. Including Adrianna’s mother’s.”

I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Won’t you have to kill every man in the venue if I wear this?”

He contemplated this for a moment, his lips curving into a familiar, dangerous grin. “Probably,” he said. “But that’s not your concern.”

Before I could protest, he slipped his black card to the sales associate waiting nearby and nodded toward the counter. “We’ll take it. And anything else she needs.”

“Dante,” I said sharply, stepping forward. “I can pay for my own dress.”

“Not today,” he said without looking back, his tone final as he returned to his phone, scrolling as if the matter was already settled.

I stared after him, my heart pounding in my chest, unsure how to take this new dynamic.

The sales associate handed me a garment bag for the green dress, her smile a little too knowing for my liking, and I followed Dante out of the boutique. His long strides carried him ahead of me, his phone already back in his hand as he typed out a message with practiced efficiency. The man could multitask like no one I’d ever seen—effortlessly balancing his criminal empire, a phone call, and, apparently, my wardrobe.

I clutched the bag tighter, my mind still reeling from the way he’d looked at me in that dress. It wasn’t just the usual smirk or the teasing remarks. It was something heavier, something that made my pulse race and my knees feel just a little unsteady. And the worst part? I liked it. I liked the way his eyes had lingered, the way his voice had softened when he told me to trust him.

“Where to next?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as we stepped into the bustling mall corridor.

“I need a few more things,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Shoes, accessories...maybe another dress or two.”

“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing ahead with a flourish. “I’m at your service.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, stepping ahead of him. He reached out and took the garment bag from me before motionion ahead once more. Watching him as I headed toward one of the larger department stores at the far end of the mall. Dante followed closely, his phone still in hand, but I could feel his attention flicker toward me every so often, like he was keeping tabs on me even while pretending to be distracted.

Inside the store, I made a beeline for the eveningwear section, pulling a few options from the racks as I went. A slinky silver dress, a bold red one with a high neckline, and a navy gown with delicate beading along the bodice. I hesitated over a black cocktail dress with a plunging back, wondering if it was too similar to the green dress Dante had already chosen.

“You’re overthinking it,” Dante said from behind me, his voice startling me out of my thoughts.

I turned to find him leaning casually against a nearby display, his phone still in hand but his dark eyes fixed on me. “I’m not overthinking,” I said defensively, holding up the black dress. “I’m just...considering my options.”

“Try it on,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a huff, I added the dress to my pile and headed for the fitting rooms. The attendant led me to a spacious stall with a full-length mirror, and I quickly slipped into the black dress. It fit like a glove, the fabric hugging my curves and dipping low enough in the back to make me feel both elegant and daring.

I stepped out of the fitting room, smoothing my hands over the fabric as I turned to face Dante. He was still leaning against the wall, his phone now tucked into his pocket, his attention fully on me.

“Well?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way my heart was pounding.

He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over me slowly, deliberately. “It’s good,” he said after a moment. “But the green one’s still better.”

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