Page 99 of Made for Saints

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to put up a barrier between us, though it felt flimsy at best. “You think?”

He chuckled, the sound low and unbothered, a predator’s amusement. Another step forward. The distance between us was shrinking too quickly, and my pulse thudded in my ears.

“Come now, Emilia,” he said smoothly. “Don’t be like that. I was just trying to have a little fun.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” I shot back, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the unease prickling at the back of my neck. “So if you’ll excuse me—”

I turned quickly, already moving to put space between us, but before I could take a step, his hand shot out. His fingers curled around my arm, yanking me back with enough force to make me stumble.

“Not so fast,” he said, his tone losing its earlier charm as his grip tightened. His nails bit into my skin, and the pressure sent a jolt of fear straight to my chest.

I tried to pull away, but his hand was like iron, unyielding. “Let go of me, Romero,” I demanded, though my voice cracked under the weight of my growing panic.

He smirked, his free hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face as if he had every right to touch me. The gesture was slow, deliberate, and it sent a shiver of revulsiondown my spine. “You’re even more beautiful when you’re angry, you know that?”

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, my free hand curling tightly into a fist at my side. My nails dug into my palm as I fought the urge to swing at him, knowing it would only make things worse.

“You’re playing hard to get,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he ignored my warning. His body shifted closer, backing me against the cold, unyielding wall. “But I know you’re not as untouchable as Dante wants everyone to think. He can’t protect you all the time.”

The mention of Dante sparked something in me—a surge of defiance that momentarily eclipsed my fear. I glared up at Romero, my jaw tightening as the anger burned through the panic. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” I said, my voice low and steady despite the tremor in my limbs.

“Oh, I think I do,” he replied, his smirk widening. His hand slid lower, brushing against my waist, and I flinched at the unwanted contact. He leaned in, his breath warm and sickening against my cheek. “I’ve been watching you. You act like you’re untouchable, but I know better. You’re just waiting for someone to push past that tough little act.”

My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat as I shoved at his chest with all the strength I could muster. It barely budged him, but it bought me a fraction of space. “Get off me,” I spat, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

Romero chuckled darkly, his grip on my arm tightening as he pushed me back against the wall again, harder this time. The impact sent a dull ache through my shoulders, but the sharp panic in my chest drowned out the pain.

“You think Dante’s going to come running if you scream?” he sneered, his voice dropping into something darker, more menacing. “He doesn’t own you, Emilia. No one does.”

I swallowed hard, my breathing ragged as I forced myself to meet his gaze. “You’re wrong,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice trembling with defiance even as fear clawed its wayup my throat.

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head like he was enjoying a private joke. His hand moved lower, and I twisted sharply, trying to break free, but he was stronger—so much stronger. “You’re all alone, sweetheart. No Dante, no guards. Just us.”

My mind raced, panic and rage intertwining as I searched for an opening, for anything I could use to get away. “Romero,” I said, forcing his name out like a weapon, my voice hardening despite the frantic pounding in my chest. “If you don’t let me go right now, I guarantee you’ll regret it.”

He laughed, a cruel sound that echoed in the empty hallway. “And what are you going to do? Call for help? Cry?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I shifted my weight and brought my knee up sharply, aiming for his groin. The movement was quick, instinctive, and it connected just enough to make him grunt in pain and loosen his grip.

I didn’t wait. I yanked my arm free and stumbled backward, falling into an empty room. The door slammed against the wall behind me as I scrambled to regain my footing, my chest heaving with adrenaline. The room was dimly lit, barely furnished, and the stale scent of dust filled the air.

Romero stalked toward the doorway, his face twisted in anger, his earlier smugness replaced by a dark fury that made my blood run cold. He leaned against the doorframe, his hand pressed against his side as he recovered from the blow I’d landed, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“You’re going to regret that,” he hissed, his voice low and venomous.

I backed up further. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned, my voice trembling but sharp.

Romero chuckled darkly, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate movements. “Oh, come on, Emilia,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

“Stay back,” I said again, my voice rising as I tightened my grip on the paperweight.

He ignored me, his steps closing the distance between us inch by inch. His dark eyes gleamed with malice, and I could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on me, making the small room feel suffocating.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his tone almost conversational now, as if we weren’t on the verge of violence. “I'm going to feel that sweet Ricci pussy and no one is going to stop me. Dante’s been coddling you, protecting you, keeping you in this little bubble. But out here? No one’s going to save you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I spat in his face as he cornered me against the wall. “And you have no idea what Dante will do when he finds out about this.”

Romero’s smirk returned, cruel and condescending. “You think he cares? You’re just another pawn to him, Emilia. A pretty face he can use to get what he wants. He’s not coming for you. Not this time.”

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