Page 27 of Made for Sinners

Another pause. This one heavier.

Then, finally, he exhaled, slow and measured. “I’m sending Leo, my head of security to meet you. Your brother can go home.”

I clenched my jaw. “You don’t get to dictate who I go places with.”

“I do,” he said smoothly. “And I am.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Marco shot me a look, shaking his head slightly. I knew what he was thinking—pick your battles.

Grinding my teeth, I exhaled through my nose. “Fine. Whatever.”

There was a pause, then, “Leo will also pick up the contract once you’ve signed it.”

I smirked, leaning back against the seat. “I have notes.”

Dante sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. “Of course you do.”

I could picture him now—pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw tight, his patience fraying at the edges. The image sent a flicker of satisfaction through me.

“You’ll get it when I’m done,” I said sweetly.

“Don’t take too long,” he replied, his voice low and warning. “I don’t like waiting.”

“Then you’re going tohatebeing married to me,” I shot back.

His silence was deafening.

Then, finally, a quiet, almost amused, “We’ll see.”

And then the line went dead.

I stared at the screen, my pulse racing. I hated the way he could make me feel so small, so powerless, even through a phone call. But what I hated more was the flicker of heat in my chest—the part of me that wanted to fight him, to defy him, just so I could see his control crack.

Marco whistled. “Damn. He really has you on a leash already, huh?”

I turned to glare at him. “Shut up and drive.”

He chuckled but obeyed, the car speeding toward the mall.

I didn’t know what irritated me more—the fact that Dante was already pulling strings around me like I was some puppet…

Or the fact that a part of melikedthat he cared enough to try.

9

EMILIA

Three hours later, I sat in the back of the chauffeured SUV, drowning in shopping bags from every high-end boutique the city had to offer. The absurdity of it all—this entire day—reminded me of the first time Dante had taken me shopping. Back then, I’d thought I could resist him. Back then, I’d thought I had a choice.

Leo, the Conti soldier Dante had sent to replace my brother, sat in the front passenger seat like a silent sentinel. His sharp eyes scanned every street we passed, his posture rigid, his presence a constant reminder that even here, surrounded by luxury, I wasn’t truly free.

The driver hadn’t flinched when I handed him Dante’s black card and told him to take me to the most expensive stores in the city. Apparently, working for the Contis made you immune to the absurd. The man probably ferried people around for million-dollar errands on a daily basis.

I leaned back against the plush leather seat, scrolling through my phone as the car glided through the city streets. The thrill I’d felt earlier, tossing designer heels and silk dresses onto counters without a second thought, had dulled. Each swipe of Dante’scard was supposed to feel like some small act of rebellion, a tiny victory in this ridiculous arrangement. But now, as the adrenaline faded, all I was left with was a gnawing unease that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. No handbag or pair of shoes could distract me from the fact that the contract—the chains Dante had wrapped around my life—still loomed over me.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a message from Dante.

Dante:How’s the spending spree?

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