Page 75 of Made for Sinners

Rafe’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, his dark eyes narrowing. “The alumni fund?”

“Yup,” Luca said, his tone brimming with mock enthusiasm. “For all the poor, struggling heirs of crime families who didn’t inherit enough empires to buy their way into a better future. Truly a noble cause.”

Rafe snorted, shaking his head as he leaned forward to grab the whiskey bottle. “Sounds like a room full of assholes trying to outbid each other for bragging rights. What’s next? A silent auction for who has the biggest yacht?”

Luca grinned, pointing at him. “Exactly. And knowing Dante, he’ll probably end up buying half the shit just to keep the peace.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s not about the auction.”

“No,” Luca agreed with a smirk. “It’s about pretending we’re all so civilized while secretly plotting how to stab each other in the back.”

Rafe chuckled, raising a brow at me. “You sure you don’t want to skip this one? Let the wife handle the schmoozing while you stay home and drink in peace?”

I shot him a dry look. “If I let her go alone, half thoseSt. Gabriel assholeswill spend the night trying to get her attention. And I’m not in the mood to bury anyone this week.”

Luca laughed, kicking his feet back up on the table. “Ah, the devoted husband. So protective.”

“Shut up, Luca,” I muttered, tossing back the rest of my drink.

Rafe, his amusement tempered with practicality, glanced at me. “So what’s the angle? Why even go? Besides the whole ‘showing off the wife’ thing.”

I set the glass down with a muted thud, exhaling slowly. “It’s business. A room full of people who want to tear my organization apart, and I get to smile, shake hands, and pretend I don’t know what they’re planning.”

Rafe leaned forward, his elbows braced on the table. “And the real reason?”

I smirked, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Because it’s better to keep your enemies close. And nothing brings them all together like an overpriced gala.”

Luca raised his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to charity.”

“Here’s to bullshit,” Rafe added, clinking his glass against Luca’s.

I sighed, pushing back from the table and rising to my feet. “I’ll bring my credit card. Ready to support more rich fucks who want to tear me down.”

“Spoken like a true philanthropist,” Luca called after me, his laughter following me out of the room.Chapter

The house was too quiet.

It wasn’t the kind of silence that brought peace—it was the kind that settled over you like a weight, pressing down until you couldn’t breathe.

I was restless.

Dante had been pacing the house for hours, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and clipped as he handled whatever business had decided to ruin my day. He barely looked at me. Barely acknowledged my existence beyond the occasional glance, like I was just another piece of furniture in his perfectly controlled world.

And I hated it.

I hated that he could ignore me so easily. Hated that I wanted his attention.

I hated that I wanted him.

It had been days since our dinner on the rooftop, since the moment where, for a brief second, I thought we might be something other than enemies locked in an endless battle of wills. But that moment had passed, and now we were back to this—him consumed by his business, and me left to stew in my own frustration.

I needed a distraction.

And if Dante wasn’t going to give me one, I’d make my own fun.

I smirked to myself as I stood in front of my closet, running my fingers over the dresses he’d bought me. He had good taste, I’d give him that. But I wasn’t looking for something elegant tonight. I wanted something that would make his blood boil.

Something that would make him snap.

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