Page 92 of Made for Saints

I didn’t answer right away, my eyes still trained on the daggers in the case. The phrase had been circling my mind for days, refusing to leave me in peace. I wasn’t sure why it stuck, why it felt so...her. It wasn’t just that she was reckless—though she was. It was the way she thrived in her chaos, how she rushed headfirst into situations without a second thought, and yet somehow always made it out alive.

It infuriated me. It fascinated me. And no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The inscription was more than words. It was a truth she needed to understand, a reminder she would carry with her every time she held the blade. Because in our world, foolishness wasn’t a luxury—it was a death sentence. And yet, she defied that rule at every turn.

“And a crown, a queen's crown.” I added. “Something intricate. Elgeant.”

The man nodded, already scribbling notes on a pad. “Understood. It will take a couple days to complete.”

“Make it a priority,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.

"It's smaller...We can have it tomorrow?"

"Whatever it will cost." I said nodding.

As he walked away, Rafe let out a low whistle, leaning against the display case with a shit-eating grin. “A dagger with a Latin inscription and a crown? Let me guess—it’s for the Ricci girl.”

I ignored him, but that only seemed to encourage him.

“Oh, it is,” he said, his grin widening. “Dante, Dante, Dante. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Rafe,” I muttered, turning my attention back to the display case.

Luca crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “You did something, didn’t you?”

The question hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, I considered lying. But what was the point? They’d figure it out sooner or later.

“Yes,” I said finally, my voice low. “I claimed her.” I rubbed my hand over my face and through my hair. "To the Russians."

Rafe let out a bark of laughter, clapping me on the shoulder. “Oh, you are so screwed.”

“Not helping,” I said through gritted teeth.

Luca, ever the voice of reason, studied me carefully. “And what’s your plan now? You can’t just claim her and leave it at that. The Riccis are going to expect something concrete. So will the Russians.”

“I was hoping you’d have some ideas,” I admitted, my tone sharper than I intended.

Rafe snorted, shaking his head. “Ideas? Sure. Here’s one—talk to Vincent Ricci. Strike a marriage deal. You know, like a normal mafia boss.”

I shot him a glare, but Luca nodded in agreement. “He’s right. If you’re serious about this, you need to make it official. Otherwise, you’re just painting a target on her back.”

I clenched my jaw, the weight of their words settling over me like a lead blanket. They weren’t wrong. Claiming Emilia had been an impulsive decision, one driven by equal parts anger and...something else. Something I wasn’t ready to name. But now, I was in too deep to back out.

“I’ll handle it,” I said, my voice firm. “But not yet.”

“Not yet?” Rafe repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Dante, you’re playing with fire here. You can’t just—”

“I said I’ll handle it,” I snapped, cutting him off. “Drop it.”

Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk never left his face. “Whatever you say, big brother. Just don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

Lunch was a tense affair, the conversation shifting between business and family matters, but my mind waselsewhere. I kept replaying the events of the past few days—the way Emilia had looked sneaking out of the house, the fire in her eyes when she challenged me, the way her lips had parted ever so slightly when I’d leaned in close.

She was temptation personified, a perfect storm of innocence and rebellion that left me utterly undone. She made me want to shield her from the world and shatter every piece of her composure, all in the same breath. And the worst part? She was oblivious. Completely unaware of the power she wielded, of the way she unraveled me with a single glance. Every time she looked at me like that—eyes wide, daring yet unknowing—it felt like the ground beneath me cracked, and I was one step closer to free-falling into her.

By the time we left the restaurant, I was more on edge than ever. Luca and Rafe had gone their separate ways, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I drove back to the penthouse. The city blurred past in a haze of lights and shadows, but all I could see was her.

The girl who was quickly becoming my undoing.

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