Page 3 of Made for Sinners

And here I was, fighting to keep my composure while my world quietly fell apart.

The champagne in my hand was warm now, the bubbles long since gone, but I clung to the glass like it was a lifeline. The alcohol had dulled the edges of my pain, but only slightly. It wasn’t enough to erase the memory of Dante’s voice, sharp and cutting, or the way his eyes had burned with something I couldn’t quite name—anger, frustration, maybe even regret.

I took another sip, the liquid bitter on my tongue, and forced a smile as one of Adrianna’s distant cousins approached me, his words lost in the haze of my thoughts. I nodded politely, murmuring something noncommittal, but my mind waselsewhere, replaying the argument in the garden over and over again.

You’re mine.

His words had been a claim, a declaration—but they felt like a curse. Dante had always been possessive, always teetering on the edge of control, but tonight... Tonight, he’d crossed a line. The bruises on my arm were proof of that, faint but undeniable, a physical reminder of the storm that raged inside him.

And even now, with the sting of his grip still fresh in my memory, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him.

“Emilia!” Adrianna’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, her hand brushing against my arm as she appeared at my side. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with joy, and for a moment, I envied her. I envied her ability to find happiness in the midst of all this.

“There you are,” she said, her smile warm and genuine. “I was starting to think you’d disappeared.”

“Just needed some air,” I lied, forcing a smile as I gestured to the champagne in my hand. “And maybe another drink.”

Adrianna laughed, her gaze flicking to the nearly empty glass. “Careful, or you’ll be the one needing rescuing tonight.”

I managed a weak laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “Don’t worry about me. Tonight’s about you.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, I thought she might press further, might ask why my laughter didn’t quite reach my eyes. But before she could, one of her new in-laws called her name, waving her over to join a group near the dance floor.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, squeezing my arm gently before disappearing into the crowd.

I watched her go, the knot in my chest tightening as the weight of the evening settled over me like a shroud. The music was too loud, the laughter too bright, the champagne too bitter. Icouldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t stand here and pretend like I wasn’t breaking apart at the seams.

Setting my glass down on a nearby table, I made my way toward the edge of the garden, weaving through the crowd with a practiced smile and polite nods. When I reached the shadows cast by the towering hedges, I pulled out my phone and texted Adrianna.

Feeling a little under the weather—too much champagne, I think. Heading home early. Love you.

The lie burned as I hit send, but I couldn’t face her. Not like this.

A driver was waiting for me at the estate’s entrance, his expression neutral as he opened the car door and helped me inside. The ride home was a blur, the city lights flashing past the windows as I stared out at the world beyond, my chest tightening with every mile that brought me closer to the solitude of my apartment.

By the time I stepped through the door, the composure I’d fought so hard to maintain had crumbled entirely. My chest tightened, the weight I’d been carrying all day suddenly too heavy to bear. My breaths came faster, shallow and uneven, as my vision blurred. Warm streaks slid down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying. I wiped at them with trembling hands, but it was useless—more followed, spilling over in a torrent I couldn’t control.

My knees buckled, and I lurched toward the bathroom, gripping the edge of the door frame as if it would steady the storm inside me.The cold tile bit into my feet, grounding me enough to keep standing. The mirror loomed in front of me, catching my red, swollen eyes and the dark streaks of mascara carved into my cheeks. I couldn’t look at myself for long.

My hand found the faucet, twisting it on until water splashed against the porcelain sink, the sound filling the silence of theroom. I leaned over it, gripping the edges so tightly my knuckles turned white, my whole body trembling with the force of the sobs I tried to choke back. My shoulders shook, and I pressed my forehead to the cool glass of the mirror, hoping it might somehow soothe the ache clawing its way through my chest.

But it didn’t. Nothing did. The tears kept coming, relentless, as if they’d been waiting all day for this moment to break free.

I turned on the shower, the sound of the water cascading against the tiles drowning out the sobs that wracked my body. My dress pooled at my feet, forgotten, as I stepped under the spray, the scalding heat searing my skin but doing nothing to ease the ache in my chest.

The fight replayed in my mind, every word, every glance, every touch. Dante’s voice, rough and raw, telling me I mattered more than anything else in his life. The way his hand had tightened around my arm, his grip firm enough to leave bruises but not enough to break me. The way he’d walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart in my throat and tears threatening to spill.

I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, the water washing away the salt of my tears but not the heaviness in my chest. I hated him. I hated him for making me feel this way, for pulling me into his world and then pushing me out again. But more than that, I hated myself for still wanting him, for still aching for him even after everything.

My fingers traced over my arms, every inch of my skin feeling raw, scrubbed too hard in a futile attempt to erase the memory of the day. The steam faded, replaced by a creeping chill. I stayed under the water until it seeped into my bones, leaving me trembling—not just from the cold—before I finally turned it off.

The bed sat waiting, its wide expanse feeling impossibly empty as I climbed in. The sheets were cool, the fabric soft, butit offered no comfort. I curled into myself, pulling the blanket up to my chin, and for a moment, I thought the tears were done.

But they weren’t.

They came again, slipping silently down my cheeks, soaking into the pillow beneath me. An unbearable pressure swelled in my chest, the sobs too quiet to be heard but powerful enough to leave me trembling. I buried my face into the blanket, as if hiding from the world might make it all disappear, but the emotions refused to be ignored.

I cried until my body gave out, until the exhaustion of the evening dragged me under like a riptide. My eyes burned, my throat raw, but even as sleep claimed me, there was no reprieve.

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