Page 44 of Made for Sinners

And not from Dante himself.

14

DANTE

The ride back to the penthouse was silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional sharp inhale from Emilia. She sat rigid, her arms folded tightly across her chest, nails digging into the sleeves of her dress like she was trying to hold herself together. Her gaze stayed fixed on the city lights blurring past the tinted windows, but I could feel her emotions radiating off her in waves—sharp, hot, and barely contained.

She was angry.

Good.

Anger was easier to deal with than fear.

I leaned back against the leather seat, resting an elbow on the armrest as I watched her from the corner of my eye. The tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw clenched every time she exhaled—she was barely holding it together, and I knew her well enough to recognize that the second she opened her mouth, it would all come spilling out.

“You’re quiet,” I murmured, breaking the silence.

She turned her head just enough to glare at me, her eyes flashing with fury. “Oh, I don’t know, Dante. Maybe it’s because I was justshot atduring a family dinner.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. “Welcome to the family,cara.”

Her expression hardened, her lips pressing into a tight line. “This isn’t normal.”

“For you? No. For me?” I shrugged, letting the smirk linger. “It happens.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Right. Just another Sunday dinner with the Contis. A little pasta, a little wine, a little gunfire.”

I didn’t bother correcting her.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

She turned her attention back to the window, shaking her head as her fingers tightened their grip on her arms. “Who was it?”

“The Russians most likely.”

Her head whipped back toward me, her brows knitting together. “I thought you had some kind of arrangement with them.”

“We did,” I said calmly.

“And now?”

I met her gaze, holding it steady. “Now, we don’t.”

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to ask more, but she pressed them together again. I could see the wheels turning in her head, the questions piling up, but she didn’t let them spill out. Instead, she exhaled slowly, shaking her head like she was trying to make sense of all this.

“And you’re just… what? Shrugging it off?” she finally asked, her voice incredulous.

My brow arched. “Would you rather I panic?”

She let out a frustrated sound, dragging her hands through her hair before rubbing her temples. “I’d rather you acknowledge that this isinsane.”

I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to something lower, something meant to remind her exactly who she was dealing with. “This is the life you married into, princess. You can either accept it or keep pretending you had a choice.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but her eyes never left mine.

Good.

She was stubborn. I liked that about her.

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