Page 58 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

“You’re making a scene, Dante,” I say in a hushed tone.

“What, you’re worried your boyfriend will get jealous?” His breath tickles my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“He’s not my boyfriend. And you should be more concerned about your own fiancée. You know, the woman you’re going to be married to in a few weeks, jerkhole.” I push against his chest, trying to create some distance between us.

He rears back and looks at me with an unreadable expression. Then his arm snakes around my waist, and he drags me off the stool and right against his body. I’m still trying to tug down my hem when he grabs my purse and steers me away from the bar without letting me go.

Bodies part as he walks us toward the door, my body plastered against his side.

“Stop fidgeting and smile for the cameras,” he bends to whisper in my ear. “We’ll be all over the internet by morning.”

And that’s when I notice the raised phones.

How is this even happening to me right now?

The moment we get outside and the cool night air hits my flushed skin, I snatch my purse from him and wrench myself out of his arms. “Get off me, Dante. I have a life and job, you know?”

I notice Pietro has followed us outside, his hulking form stands guard a few feet away.

“It’s not a crime to be photographed with a man, Addy,” Dante says.

If only he were just a man. “I know that. I’m just not prepared to deal with unnecessary online speculation.”

And if what my dad said is true, whoever is out to get me shouldn’t know that I’m in Chicago right now.

Dante takes a step closer. “So why did you come here tonight, Addy? What do you want from me?”

“You think I came back for you?” I scoff, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Please. Don’t even flatter yourself.”

“What am I supposed to think when you keep showing up uninvited in my house?”

I shake my head, not even willing to dignify that with a response. I simply spin on my flats and start to walk toward my rental car, trying my damnedest not to limp.

His voice stops me. “Adele.”

My lids fall closed. It’s unfair that Dante Vitelli calls me like that, drawing my name to three syllables. Raspy, musical, provocative. I hate what it does to me.

“What?” I ask, not turning around.

“Tell me you came here for me tonight. That you couldn’t get me out of your mind, so you tagged along with Kira, wearing that dress and letting some asshole put his hands all over you to get my attention.”

“I didn’t come to get your attention.”

“Well, you have it now. All of it.”

I feel myself melting, so I grit my teeth and stiffen my spine. “I don’t want it, Dante. You can shove it up your ass. I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are.” The next thing I know I’m up in his arms and he’s stalking toward a huge black SUV.

“Dante, where are you taking me?” I push against his chest, my hands meeting solid muscle.

“Home.”

“Oh my God. You wouldn’t fucking dare.” My heart races with a mix of fear and excitement.

“I told you not to come back, Addy. What I didn’t warn you about was what would happen if you did.”

“So, what, you’ll keep me prisoner?” I squirm in his arms, but his grip is unyielding.

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