Page 127 of Made for Sinners

He didn’t say anything.

He just kissed me.

Hard.

Like he’d been waiting years for me to catch up.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his hands on either side of me, caging me in.

“I’m going to marry you again,” he said.

I blinked. “We’re already married.”

He shook his head. “Not like that. Not in secret. Not in a courthouse. I want the whole thing. A dress. Vows. A room full of people who know exactly what it means when I say you’re mine.”

I stared at him, stunned.

“You’re serious,” I whispered.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled then—rare and real and devastating.

And I knew, in that moment, that whatever came next—whatever blood had to be spilled, whatever truths had to be faced—we’d face it together.

Because he was mine.

And I was his.

And nothing would ever change that.

Not even war.

32

EMILIA

Dante’s closet was bigger than most apartments. All dark wood and glass, the kind of space designed for a man who didn’t just wear power—he curated it. Rows of tailored suits, polished shoes, and silk ties lined the walls like a museum exhibit on how to intimidate a room without saying a word.

I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of his bedroom, adjusting the neckline of my dress. It was black—of course. Sleek, backless, and just this side of indecent. The kind of dress that whispered elegance while threatening to start a war. I’d chosen it because I knew exactly how Dante would look at me in it.

And because I knew exactly how his family would.

He stepped out of the closet, still buttoning the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, his black slacks hugging his hips in a way that made my mouth go dry. He looked up, and for a moment, he just stared.

“Don’t wear anything irreplaceable,” he said, voice low, amused.

I arched a brow. “That a threat or a promise?”

He smirked, crossing the room in a few long strides. “Just a precaution. You know how Conti dinners go.”

“Blood, wine, and passive-aggressive toasts?”

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