Page 115 of Made for Saints

I frowned, about to ask what he meant, when I felt his hand on my thigh. My breath hitched as his fingers brushed against the leather of my leggings, his touch light but deliberate. He didn’t look at me, his attention seemingly focused on the road, but the smirk on his lips told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Dante,” I said, my voice a mix of warning and plea.

“Hmm?” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against my thigh. “Something wrong?”

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, though the words lacked any real bite. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch even as my mind screamed at me to maintain some semblance of control.

His hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the waistband of my leggings, and I bit down on my lip to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape. “You’re going to get us killed,” I managed, my voice trembling.

He chuckled, low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through me. “I can multitask, princess. Don’t worry about me.”

I glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way my breath hitched when his fingers dipped just beneath the waistband. “You’re insufferable.”

“You keep saying that, Emilia. And yet, you’re not telling me to stop,” he countered, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm.

I didn’t have a response for that, mostly because he was right. I should have told him to stop, should have pushed his hand away and demanded that he focus on the road. But instead, I sat there, my body trembling under his touch, my mind a whirlwind of desire and frustration.

By the time we pulled up to the club, I was a mess. My cheeks were flushed, my breathing uneven, and my body thrummed with the kind of tension that made it impossible to think straight. Dante, of course, looked as composed as ever, though the glint in his eyes and the faint smirk on his lips told me he was fully aware of the effect he’d had on me.

He stepped out of the car first, coming around to open my door before offering me his hand. “Come princess,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I took his hand, the warmth of his skin against mine sending a jolt through me as he helped me out of the car. The club loomed ahead of us, its sleek, modern facade glowing with neon lights that pulsed in time with the bass thumping from inside. Not one I recognized, and certainly not one I've ever ventured to alone. A line of people stretched down the block,their eager chatter filling the air, but Dante bypassed them entirely, leading me toward a side entrance guarded by two imposing men in suits.

The guards stepped aside without a word, their gazes fixed straight ahead as Dante led me through the side entrance like he owned the place—which, knowing him, he probably did. The hallway we entered was dimly lit, the muffled thrum of the music vibrating through the walls. It was quieter here, a stark contrast to the chaos I could already feel brewing on the other side of the doors.

Dante’s hand remained firmly on the small of my back, guiding me with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down my spine. Every brush of his fingers against me felt deliberate, a silent reminder that I was his tonight. Maybe always.

We emerged into the main area of the club, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, sweat, and alcohol. The music was loud, a pulsing beat that seemed to sync with the pounding of my heart. Bodies moved on the dance floor in a chaotic rhythm, a blur of glittering dresses and sharp suits under the strobe lights.

Dante didn’t stop to take it in. He moved with purpose, his hand never leaving my back as he guided me through the crowd. People parted for him instinctively, their gazes flicking to him with a mix of curiosity and deference. He didn’t acknowledge them, his focus entirely on me.

We reached a staircase tucked away in the corner, guarded by another set of men in suits. They nodded at Dante, stepping aside to let us pass without question. He led me up the stairs, the noise of the club fading slightly as we ascended. At the top, a set of double doors opened into what could only be described as luxury incarnate.

The VIP lounge was gorgeous. Plush velvet sofas in deep jewel tones were arranged in intimate clusters, accented by gold and marble details. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the dance floor below, offering a perfect view of thechaos we’d just left behind. A sleek bar lined one wall, staffed by a bartender who moved with practiced efficiency, and a small group of people lounged on the sofas, their laughter low and indulgent.

Dante led me to a corner of the lounge, his hand finally leaving my back as he gestured for me to sit on one of the sofas. “Stay here,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’ll be safe. My men are watching.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “And where will you be?”

He smirked, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. “I’ll be close. I have some business to handle, but I’ll be able to see you from the office.” He gestured toward a glass-walled room that overlooked both the lounge and the club below. “You’ll behave, won’t you, princess?”

The challenge in his tone made my blood simmer, but I forced a sweet smile. “Of course. I’m always on my best behavior.”

Dante chuckled, the sound low and dark, before straightening and brushing a finger under my chin. “Good girl. Don’t get into trouble.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the office with the kind of confidence that made people move out of his way without a second thought. I watched him go, my gaze lingering on the broad set of his shoulders and the way his presence seemed to command the entire room.

With a sigh, I sank back into the sofa, my fingers brushing against the cool fabric as I tried to relax. But it was impossible. My mind was still buzzing from the car ride, from the way his hands had felt on my skin, the way his voice had wrapped around me like a velvet leash. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head, the heat of his touch, the hunger in his eyes.

I glanced toward the office, my eyes narrowing as I spotted him through the glass. He was speaking with his brothers, their expressions serious as they gestured toward a tablet on the desk. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the tensionin their posture was unmistakable.

For a while, I just watched him, my gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face, the way his hands moved as he spoke. He was captivating in a way that felt almost dangerous, like staring too long might burn me. And yet, I couldn’t look away.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.

A woman entered the office, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she approached Dante and his brothers. She was tall and striking, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves. Her dress was sleek and fitted, the kind of thing that screamed wealth and confidence. She greeted Dante with a smile, her hand brushing his arm as she leaned in to speak.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Something about the way she moved, the familiarity in her touch, made my stomach twist.

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