Page 103 of Made for Sinners

We descended the steps in silence, Dante’s hand still gripping mine, his jaw tight and his gaze fixed straight ahead.

When we reached the floor, he turned to me, his voice low. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

But I wasn’t.

Because as we walked back into the crowd, I caught sight of Rocco near the auction table. He was standing there, his hands in his pockets, his expression calm. But his eyes…

His eyes found mine, and for a moment, they held.

And that same prickle of unease slid down my spine.

Because Rocco looked at me like he knew something.

And I was starting to think he did.

I glanced back toward the auction table, my pulse quickening.

The bid sheet was still there, R. Conti’s name still scrawled above mine.

But I didn’t care about the villa anymore.

I cared about the man who’d tried to take it from me.

And why he looked like a ghost from my past.

I squeezed Dante’s hand tighter, my nails digging into his palm.

Because I had a feeling we were about to dig up something neither of us was ready for.

26

DANTE

She tugged on my sleeve.

Not hard. Not panicked. But enough.

Enough to make my pulse spike, to make every muscle in my body lock tight like I’d just heard the safety click off a gun aimed at my skull.

I turned to her, and the second I saw her face—pale, lips pressed tight, eyes wide and unfocused—I knew something was wrong.

Not wrong like she’d spilled wine on her dress or someone had made a snide comment about her being the new Conti wife.

Wrong like danger.

Wrong like blood.

My mind went there instantly—because that’s what it does. It doesn’t wait for facts. It doesn’t ask questions. It jumps straight to the worst-case scenario and prepares to kill whoever’s responsible.

“Emilia,” I said, my voice low, sharp. “What happened?”

She shook her head, but it was too quick. Too forced. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

I didn’t like the way she said it. Didn’t like the way her fingers were trembling slightly, even as she tried to hide it by curling them into her palm.

My body shifted instinctively, stepping closer to her, shielding her from the crowd without even thinking. My hand found her waist, grounding her—or maybe grounding me.

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