Page 94 of Made for Saints

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she reached down and touched the hilt of the dagger, her fingers brushing against mine.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stood slowly, my hands sliding away from her as I straightened. “Don’t thank me,” I said, my tone hardening. “Just promise me you’ll use it if you have to.”

She nodded, her expression serious. “I promise.”

The weight in my chest eased slightly, but it didn’t disappear. It wouldn’t, not as long as she continued to push the boundaries of this world. But at least now, she had something to protect herself with.

And that dagger would serve as a stark reminder of my claim over her—an unyielding symbol of the danger that surrounded her and the lengths I’d go to keep her safe.

As I drove away from the Ricci estate, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d looked at me—like I was both her savior and her undoing. She didn’t realize it yet, but she was becoming a part of me, a part I couldn’t afford to lose.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

Chapter 31

Emilia

The dagger felt heavier than I’d expected, its weight a constant reminder of the man who had insisted I carry it. Dante’s words echoed in my mind as I adjusted the leather straps around my thigh, the cool steel pressing against my skin.You’re going to wear it. Every time you leave this house, it stays with you. He had said it with such finality, like it was a command etched into stone. And now, as I stood in front of my vanity, curling the last strand of my hair, I couldn’t help but glance at my reflection and wonder if the blade made me look dangerous—or just foolish.

The green dress Dante had chosen hung on the back of my door, a shimmering pool of silk and temptation. I’d tried it on again earlier, marveling at the way it hugged my curves and made me feel like a queen and a target all at once. It was bold, daring, and entirely too much, but I couldn’t deny that it made me feel...powerful. And maybe that was the point. Dante had a way of making me feel like I could conquer the world, even as he made me want to throttle him.

The party was in a few hours, and the house was already buzzing with activity. My brothers were downstairs, no doubt not ready yet, and my father was in his study, likely finalizing some deal that would keep the Ricci name at the top of the food chain. As for me, I was left to my own devices, as usual. No stylists, no entourage—just me, a curling iron, and a makeup bag that had seen better days.

I leaned closer to the mirror, carefully applying a thinline of eyeliner. The dagger shifted slightly against my thigh, a subtle reminder of its presence. Dante had been insistent, practically strapping it to me himself after showing me how to wear it. I’d protested, of course, but he’d silenced me with that infuriatingly calm tone of his, the one that made it clear arguing was pointless.If you’re going to sneak out again, you damn well better know how to protect yourself.

I hated that he was right. And I hated even more that I’d probably end up sneaking out after the party, just to spite him.

A knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts. I frowned, setting down the eyeliner and turning toward the sound. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and there he was. Dante Conti, in all his maddening glory. He was dressed in a dark suit that fit him like a second skin, the crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar just enough to hint at the tanned skin beneath. His hair was immaculately styled, the faintest shadow of stubble lining his jaw. He looked every bit the devil he was rumored to be, and the way his dark eyes locked onto mine made my pulse quicken.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Shouldn’t you be intimidating someone somewhere or something?”

Dante smirked, holding up a small velvet box. “The sales associate insisted this was necessary. She called me to pick it up.”

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out,” he said, stepping closer and handing it to me.

I took the box, my fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I quickly looked away, focusing on the box as I flipped it open. Inside was a necklace—a delicate gold chain with a single emerald pendant that matched the dress perfectly. It was understated yet stunning, the kind of piece that whispered elegance rather than screamed it.

“Dante…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

“It’s just a necklace,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes betraying something deeper. “Don’t overthink it.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers brushing over the pendant. “Thank you,” I said softly, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

He nodded, his smirk softening into something almost resembling a smile. “You should finish getting ready. We don’t want to keep your admirers waiting.”

I rolled my eyes, but the faint flush on my cheeks betrayed me. “Get out, Dante.”

He chuckled, stepping back toward the door. “Don’t take too long, princess.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with the necklace and the lingering scent of his cologne—smoky, spiced, and edged with leather. It was familiar now, intoxicating in a way that made my chest tighten, as if he were still there, watching, waiting. No matter how much space he put between us, he always left a piece of himself behind.

The party was already in full swing by the time we arrived. The grand ballroom of the Moretti estate was a sea of opulence—crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors, tables adorned with towering floral arrangements, and waiters gliding through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes. The hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, a symphony of wealth and power that felt as suffocating as it was dazzling.

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