Page 55 of Made for Sinners

He wasn’t touching her, but he wasn’t pulling away either. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on hers as though he was humoring her—or maybe indulging her.

My grip tightened around my glass, the condensation on the outside slick against my fingers.

Adrianna noticed my stillness, her dancing slowing as she followed my gaze. Her eyes landed on Dante, then Valentina, and her expression darkened.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked, her voice low.

I did.

I should have.

The rational part of me knew that staying would only make it worse. That watching them would only feed the ugly, burning thing clawing its way up my chest. But my feet wouldn’t move.

I stood frozen, my heart pounding in my ears, my mind racing as I watched Valentina tilt her head back in laughter, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. Dante’s lips quirked, the faintest hint of a smile that made my stomach churn.

Something hot and ugly burned in my chest, spreading like wildfire.

Jealousy.

It burned, sharp and unrelenting. I hated the way she laughed, the way she leaned in like she belonged there. But most of all, I hatedhim—for making me care.

I lifted my glass and downed the rest of the drink in one go, the alcohol burning its way down my throat. It did nothing to douse the fire in my chest, but at least it gave me the courage to act.

“Let’s go,” I muttered, slamming the empty glass onto the bar.

Adrianna didn’t argue. She looped her arm around mine, tugging me toward the exit, her sharp gaze darting toward Dante one last time before we pushed through the crowd.

But I couldn’t resist one last glance over my shoulder.

Valentina leaned closer to him, her hand brushing his arm as she said something into his ear, but he didn’t look at her.

The cool night air hit me like a slap, sharp and sobering as we stepped outside. My chest ached, my stomach still twisted with jealousy and anger and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Emilia,” Adrianna said softly, her voice careful.

“Don’t.” I shook my head, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “Don’t say anything.”

She didn’t.

But the silence between us was heavy as we walked away, the pulsing beat of the club fading into the distance.

16

EMILIA

Michael drove me home, the car ride silent except for the occasional glances Adrianna kept shooting me. I could feel her concern like a weight on my shoulders, but I ignored it, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past.

My anger simmered just beneath my skin, hot and relentless.

I had snuck out for less than an hour.

An hour.

And for what?

To seethat?

The image of Dante and Valentina sitting together—her leaning in close, laughing like she had every right to be there—was seared into my mind. It replayed over and over like a cruel loop, each repetition twisting the knife deeper.

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