Page 90 of Made for Saints

“Valentina? Really? You’re asking me about her? What, are you feeling nostalgic? Missing her perfume or the way she used to throw wine glasses at your head?”

Dante’s jaw tightened, and I could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Cut the crap, Rafe. Just tell me what she’s up to.”

Rafe let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, for someone who claims to be over her, you sure do ask about her a lot. Should I send her flowers on your behalf? Maybe a nice bottle of vodka to rekindle the old flame?”

“Rafe,” Dante growled, his tone a warning.

“Alright, alright,” Rafe said, laughing. “Relax. Last I heard, she’s still playing house with that hedge fund guy. What’s his name? Charles? Chad? Something insufferably preppy. Anyway, they’re living it up in Manhattan. She’s probably spending his money faster than he can make it.”

Dante’s grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly, though his expression remained hard. “And the Russians?”

“Nothing new there,” He said, his tone turning more serious. “She’s keeping her distance. Smart move, considering how things ended. Why? Did she pop up on your radar again?”

“No,” Dante said quickly, his tone clipped. “Just making sure she stays off it.”

Rafe chuckled. “You’re so predictable, brother. Always cleaning up messes before they even happen. You know, one of these days, you’re going to have to let someone else handle the dirty work.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Dante said dryly. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone shifting back to playful. “Tell Emilia I said hi.”

My eyes widened, and I shot Dante a panicked look. He didn’t even flinch, his expression unreadable as he ended the call without another word.

“Did he just—” I started, but Dante cut me off with a sharp glance.

“Don’t,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I bit my lip, holding back a laugh that threatened to escape. Rafe’s sass was unexpected, but it was also the first time I’d seen Dante even slightly off balance. It was...oddly satisfying.

“You know,” I said, unable to resist, “I think I like Rafe. He seems fun.”

Dante shot me a look that could’ve frozen water. “Rafe is a pain in the ass.”

“Maybe,” I said, grinning now. “But he’s your pain in the ass.”

Dante didn’t respond, but the flicker of annoyance in his eyes was too good to pass up. I leaned back in my seat, the grin still on my face. “Besides, not all pains in the ass are bad, you know. Some are…” I paused, letting the words hang in the air before delivering the punchline with a sly smile. “...entirely enjoyable. Like a good spanking.”

Dante’s jaw ticked, but the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed him. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close enough to make my chest tighten.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, the tension between us easing into something quieter, more contemplative. By the time we pulled up to my house, the weight of the night was starting to settle over me, exhaustion creeping in at the edges.

Dante killed the engine and turned to me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Stay out of trouble, Emilia.”

I rolled my eyes, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’ll do my best.”

As I reached for the door handle, his hand snapped out grabbing my wrist, stopping me.

“And one more thing,” he said, his tone softer now, thoughno less serious. “If another man sees you in that lingerie I bought, I’ll rip his eyes out.”

I froze, my cheeks flaming as I turned to glare at him. “What?”

"I mean it, Emilia. Don’t test me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. There was something in his expression—something raw and unguarded—that made my pulse quicken. Instead, I huffed and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool night air.

“Goodnight, Dante,” I said over my shoulder, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Goodnight, princess,” he replied, the smirk in his voice unmistakable.

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