Page 11 of Made for Saints

I did, though it took effort to drag my eyes away from the growing pool of red at my feet. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes made my breath catch.

He pulled a crisp white linen handkerchief from his pocket—elegant, refined, and completely at odds with the fact that he’d just shot a man dead—and brought it to my face. The gesture was almost tender as he wiped Mario's blood from my cheek. His other hand came up to steady my chin, the rough pad of his thumb grazing the edge of my jaw.

The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me, sharp and unwelcome, like static electricity that left my skin tingling in its wake. I should have flinched, should have pulled away from the intimacy of the touch, but I stayed rooted to the spot,my breath catching in my throat.

The scent of him—smoke and spice—filled the space between us, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to fade into silence. His fingers brushed against my cheek as he folded the handkerchief, the warmth of his skin lingering far longer than it should have.

“There,” he said softly, his voice low and steady, his hand lingering just a second too long before dropping away. “All better.”

But I wasn’t. The blood was gone, but the memory of his touch burned, leaving me unsettled in a way that had nothing to do with the violence of the evening.

I met his gaze, searching for something—an apology, an explanation, anything—but his eyes gave nothing away. They were calm, unreadable, yet I couldn’t help but feel like he knew exactly what his touch had done to me.

And I hated that he did.

"I apologize for your dress," he said, as if he'd spilled wine rather than splattered someone's brain matter across my clothes. "I'll replace it."

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. "It's Valentino."

His lips quirked slightly. "I'm aware."

Around us, the party was already settling back into its rhythm, though conversations were more subdued. My father was directing the crew to deal with Mario's body, his tone suggesting this was just another minor inconvenience to be handled.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice steady, almost bored.

The absurdity of the statement snapped something inside me, and I let out a breathless laugh, the sound bordering on hysteria.

“You just killed a man,” I said, my voice shaking. “And now you’re worried about my dress?”

Dante’s lips curved, a faint smile tugging at the edges. “Priorities, princess.”

I let Dante guide me to a nearby table, my legs trembling as I sank into a chair. My half-finished cocktail sat there mockingly, condensation beading on the glass like tears.

"Drink," Dante commanded, pushing a tumbler of amber liquid into my hands. "It'll help with the shock."

I took a sip without arguing, the whiskey burning a path down my throat. When I looked up, Dante was watching me with that intense focus that made my skin prickle.

"Why?" I asked, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.

"He was stealing from me." Dante's tone was matter-of-fact. "Nobody steals from me."

I thought of his watch, still sitting in my jewelry box at home, and suppressed a shiver. "So you killed him."

"Yes." No hesitation, no remorse. Just a simple fact.

The sunset had deepened to purple and gold, beautiful and brutal like everything else about this world I'd been born into. I could feel Dante's eyes on me, assessing my reaction, waiting to see if I'd break.

"You're taking this better than expected," he said finally, something like approval in his voice.

I met his gaze steadily. "I'm a Ricci. This isn't my first execution."

"No," he agreed, reaching out to brush another spot of blood from my shoulder. "But it is the first time you've been in the splash zone."

The casual way he referenced Mario's death should have horrified me. Instead, I found myself fighting inappropriate laughter. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Depends on your sense of humor." His fingers lingered on my bare shoulder, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

I jerked away from his touch, suddenly angry. "Is that why you did it? To see how I'd react?"

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