Page 54 of Made for Sinners

Me:No.

Adrianna:Perfect. I’ll pick you up in ten.

I grinned, shoving my phone into my pocket.

Getting out was easier than I expected.

Luca didn’t even stir when I slipped past him, his snores deep and steady. I grabbed my purse, my heels clicking softly against the marble as I made my way to the elevator.

By the time I stepped outside, Adrianna’s car was already idling at the curb, Michael in the driver’s seat, looking as exasperated as ever.

“Seriously?” he said as I slid into the back seat. “You couldn’t have picked a worse place?”

I smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Adrianna turned in her seat, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You look like you need a drink.”

“You have no idea.”

The club was packed.

Music pulsed through the air, the bass vibrating beneath my feet as Adrianna and I pushed our way through the throng of bodies. The lights flickered in time with the music, casting the crowd in flashes of neon and shadow. The scent of expensive perfume, sweat, and alcohol clung to the air—a heady, intoxicating mix that made my pulse quicken.

For the first time in days, I felt free.

No Dante. No suffocating penthouse. No constant, looming shadow of danger. Just the chaos of the club, the rhythm of the music, and the promise of losing myself in it—for a little while, at least.

We made our way to the bar, squeezing into a small space between two groups of laughing strangers. Adrianna flagged down the bartender and ordered us drinks, her voice raised above the pounding beat of the music. I glanced toward the dance floor, where people moved together in a haze of lights and motion, their bodies swaying in perfect disregard for the world outside these walls.

Adrianna handed me a drink, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Relax, Emilia. We’re here to have fun.”

I nodded and took a sip, the cold bite of vodka sliding down my throat.

We found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, Adrianna already moving effortlessly to the beat. Her body swayed with the music, her hands lifting into her dark hair as she let herself go, free and uninhibited. I envied her for that—her ability to let go of everything and just be.

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

The tension in my chest wouldn’t ease, and no amount of alcohol was drowning the thoughts swirling in my head. I sippedmy drink and let my gaze drift across the crowd, searching for something to distract me.

And then I saw him.

Dante.

The sight of him stopped me cold.

He was sitting in one of the private booths, his posture relaxed, his long legs spread slightly as he leaned back against the plush leather. His arm was draped casually over the back of the seat, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And beside him?—

Valentina.

My stomach twisted violently, the drink in my hand suddenly too heavy to hold.

She was leaning close to him, her lips painted a deep, perfect red, her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Her fingers traced slow, lazy patterns on the table between them as she spoke, her gaze locked on his. She was smiling, her laugh cutting through the music like a knife, light and flirtatious, as though nothing else in the world existed except him.

And Dante?

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