Page 136 of Made for Sinners

Me: You’re delusional.

Dante:You’re still wet from thinking about it, aren’t you?

I let out a strangled laugh and tossed my phone onto the couch, face-down, like that would somehow stop the heat crawling up my neck. It didn’t. The man had a gift for turning me into a puddle with nothing more than a few words and that damn smirk I could hear even through text.

I picked up my coffee again, taking a long sip to cool myself down—emotionally, not physically. That ship had sailed the second he mentioned posing naked for a statue.

The truth was, things had been… good.

Which was weird.

And unsettling.

And made me want to throw something, just to see if the universe would flinch.

But for the first time in weeks, there were no bodies to hide, no betrayals to uncover, no knives waiting in the dark. Just me, a penthouse that no longer felt like a prison, and a husband who alternated between being the most infuriating man alive and the only person who made me feel like I could breathe.

I glanced at the clock. Still hours until Dante got home.

Which meant I had time.

And I was bored.

A dangerous combination.

I picked up my phone again.

Me:I’m going out.

The reply came almost instantly.

Dante:No, you’re not.

Me:You don’t even know where I’m going.

Dante:Doesn’t matter.

Me:I could be going to the grocery store. Or the museum. Or to adopt a dog.

Dante:You’re going to the bar.

Me:…Maybe.

Dante:No.

Me:You’re not the boss of me.

Dante:Legally, I am.

Me:Ugh. You’re no fun.

Dante:I’m plenty of fun. You just have to stay home to enjoy it.

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my past lives.

Me:Bye

Dante:Emilia.

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