Page 117 of Made for Saints

“Your company is the last thing I need right now.”

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t move. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the heat rising to my cheeks betrayed me. “Why don’t you go back to your...friend?”

Understanding flickered in his eyes, and his smirk softened into something more knowing. “Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

I turned away, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his tone maddeningly calm. He leaned back slightly, his arm draping over the back of the sofa as if he owned the space—and me along with it. “But for the record, there’s nothing going on with her.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “I didn’t ask.”

“No,” he agreed, “but you’ve been watching us for the past ten minutes, so I figured I’d save you the trouble.”

I bristled, my jaw tightening. “I wasn’t watching. I was...observing.”

“Observing,” he repeated, his voice laced with amusement. “Right. And what exactly were you observing, princess?”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, finally turning to glare at him. His dark eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and something else—something that made my pulse quicken despite my irritation.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly. “Youdon’t seem to mind when I call you mine.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I couldn’t think of a single retort. He leaned in slightly, his gaze steady and unflinching.

“You’re jealous,” he said simply, his tone devoid of mockery. “Admit it.”

I let out a sharp laugh, though it sounded hollow even to my own ears. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, his fingers brushing lightly against my arm in a way that sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. “But you’re still upset. And I think we both know why.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to deny the accusation outright, but the words tangled in my throat. Dante’s dark eyes glinted with challenge, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk that made me want to slap him and kiss him all at once. My silence was answer enough, and his expression softened, the sharp edges of his amusement giving way to something deeper, something that made my breath catch.

“You don’t have to be jealous, Emilia,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like the soft scrape of velvet over steel. “I don’t want her. I don’t even see her. Not the way I see you.”

The sincerity in his tone was disarming, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. My chest tightened, my pulse thundering in my ears as his fingers brushed against my arm again, this time lingering. His touch was warm, grounding, and it sent a jolt of electricity through me that I couldn’t ignore.

“Dante…” I started, my voice trembling, but he cut me off with a soft, knowing smile.

“Do you know how hard it is to focus on anything else when you’re in the room?” he asked, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter. “You’re like a storm, Emilia. Beautiful, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as his words settled over me, heavy and undeniable. The tension between us crackledlike a live wire, the air thick with unspoken truths and unrelenting desire. I wanted to push him away, to tell him he was wrong, but the truth was, I didn’t want to be ignored. I didn’t want him to look at anyone else the way he looked at me.

“Then prove it,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice was quieter than I intended, but the challenge in my tone was unmistakable. “Prove that you mean it.”

Dante’s smirk widened, his dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous and thrilling. “Careful, princess,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near growl. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe I do,” I shot back, my chin lifting in defiance. My heart was racing, my skin tingling with anticipation as I held his gaze. “Maybe I want to see if you’re all talk.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, his dark eyes giving nothing away, the tension between us coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like I might snap. Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke in a voice so low it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t forget who you’re dealing with, Emilia,” he said, his breath warm against my skin. “I don’t just talk. I deliver.”

Before I could respond, his hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. His lips found mine in a kiss that was agonizingly controlled, every movement intentional and maddening despite the fire burning between us. His other hand rested on my thigh, his thumb tracing slow, teasing circles against the leather of my leggings, sending a jolt of heat through me with every pass.

I melted into him, my hands gripping the front of his shirt as I kissed him back with equal fervor. The world around us faded, the noise of the club and the faint hum of conversation from the other VIPs disappearing until it was just us—just the heat of his body against mine, the taste of him on my lips, the feel of his hands claiming me in a way that left no room for doubt.

But Dante didn’t let me lose myself completely. He pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his forehead resting against mine as we both caught our breath. His hand on my thigh tightened, his fingers digging into the leather as his dark eyes searched mine.

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