Page 76 of Made for Saints

My heart leaps into my throat as my father’s gaze lands on me, sprawled on the couch, my hair a mess and my cheeks stillflushed with heat I can’t entirely blame on exertion.

“Emilia?” he says, stopping short as he takes me in. His brows knit together, not in suspicion, but mild confusion. “What are you—?”

Before I can even begin to stammer out a reply, there’s the sound of a chair shifting. Dante rises from where he’s now seated a safe distance away, his movements slow and deliberate. His expression is calm, composed, and utterly unbothered, as if he hasn’t just witnessed—or caused—my current state of disarray.

He steps forward, extending a hand toward my father with a confidence that seems to ooze from him naturally. “Mr. Ricci,” Dante greets, his voice smooth and professional. “My apologies for arriving earlier than planned. I didn’t mean to intrude. I let myself in and accidentally interrupted Emilia during her workout. She was kind enough to take a break and keep me company while I waited…quite the show, these Utah housewives.”

My father’s confusion immediately melts away, replaced by a look of approval. He clasps Dante’s hand in a firm shake, chuckling. “Not a problem at all, I gave you clearance for a reason,” he says, his booming laugh echoing through the room. “Emilia, thank you for keeping Dante entertained. But if you’re going to work out in the living room,” he adds, gesturing toward the couch. “Make sure you bathe before sprawling out like that. That’s expensive fabric.”

The room erupts with laughter as my brothers howl like hyenas. “Yeah, Emilia,” Marco teases. “Don’t go stinking up the place.”

“Can we even afford a new couch if she ruins this one?” Giuseppe chimes in, grinning ear to ear.

Heat floods my face as I sit up straighter, shooting them both a glare. “Oh, shut up,” I snap, my voice sharp enough to make them laugh even harder.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch it—a fleeting smirk tugging at the corner of Dante’s mouth, there for just asecond before it disappears. He schools his features into polite neutrality so quickly I almost think I imagined it. Almost.

My father waves a dismissive hand at my brothers, their laughter fading as they walk out of the room. “All right, that’s enough,” he says, shaking his head. “Come on, Dante, let’s get to business.”

Dante steps toward the hallway, but not before casting a quick glance in my direction. His dark eyes flick to mine, holding them for just a beat too long. There’s no smirk now—his face is perfectly composed—but the spark of mischief in his gaze is unmistakable. It’s enough to send my stomach into a tailspin.

“Thank you for the entertainment, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, just loud enough for me to hear. “And for being so…responsive.”

My breath catches, but before I can summon a reply, he turns and follows my father out of the room, his voice already shifting into businesslike professionalism as he engages in conversation.

I slump back against the couch, exhaling shakily. The sound of their voices drifts down the hall, fading into the distance, but the tension in the room lingers like a heavy cloud. My heart is still pounding, my cheeks still burning, and the echo of his words plays on a loop in my head.

Damn him. Damn his smug face, his talented fingers, and that infuriating ability to make me feel like I’ve already lost a game I didn’t even know we were playing.

And damn me for liking it.

Chapter 26

Emilia

The house was too quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy and oppressive, like it was waiting for something to break it. I sat cross-legged on my bed, glaring at my phone as Adrianna’s text stared back at me, taunting me with its sheer ridiculousness.

“Emergency! My mom is insisting on a second engagement party because she says the pictures from the first one were ‘unusable.’ TWO DAYS, Emilia. TWO DAYS. HELP.”

I groaned, letting my head fall back against the headboard. Of course, Adrianna’s mother would pull something like this. The woman had a flair for the dramatics and her obsession with appearances was second to none. But two days? That was insane, even by her standards.

And then there was the real problem—me.

I had nothing to wear.

I’d already exhausted my wardrobe for the first engagement party, and the thought of showing up in something recycled was enough to make my stomach twist. Adrianna’s mother would notice. She always noticed. And the last thing I needed was her passive-aggressive commentary about how I “wasn’t living up to the Ricci name.”

With a sigh, I pushed myself off the bed and padded over to my closet, throwing the doors open with more force than necessary. Dresses hung neatly in a row, a rainbow of fabrics and textures, but none of them felt right. Too formal, too casual, too...not me.

I grabbed a few options anyway, draping them over my arm as I headed downstairs. Maybe my brothers would have an opinion—though the odds of that were slim to none.

I found Tony and Gio in the living room, engrossed in some action movie that was so loud I could feel the bass vibrating through the floor. They didn’t even look up as I walked in, my arms full of dresses.

“Hey,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the sounds of gunfire and explosions. “I need your help.”

Tony glanced at me briefly, his expression bored. “With what?”

“Picking a dress for Adrianna’s engagement party,” I said, holding up the options for them to see. “Which one do you think looks best?”

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