Page 86 of Made for Sinners

It was about betrayal.

And if that was the case, then I wasn’t just a pawn in someone else’s game.

I was the key to unraveling it.

I needed to talk to Dante.

Now.

I stood abruptly, the album clutched tightly in my hands, and made my way toward the door.

Because if I was right?—

If this man had anything to do with the missing money?—

Then I had just found our thief.

22

EMILIA

The silence in the car was deafening.

It was the kind of silence that made me fidget with the hem of my dress, made me glance out the window more than necessary, made the air feel like it was thick with anticipation. Like it was waiting for something.

Dante sat beside me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. He looked as calm as ever—composed, unreadable, the kind of calm that made me want to scream just to see if I could crack it.

The low hum of the engine was the only sound between us, and I hated how the quiet seemed to magnify everything else. The steady rhythm of my breathing. The soft rustle of fabric as I shifted in my seat. The way my heart seemed to beat just a little harder because of the man sitting next to me.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble that darkened his skin. He looked like the embodiment of control, like nothing in the world could touch him.

I wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to break him.

He didn’t speak until we were halfway through the winding road that led to the Conti family estate.

“I spoke with the architect yesterday,” he said suddenly, his voice low, smooth, and infuriatingly casual. Like we were picking up a conversation we’d already had.

I blinked, turning to look at him fully. “The architect?”

“They’ll have preliminary plans drawn up by next week,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

I frowned, my mind scrambling to catch up. “Plans for what?”

“The house,” he said, glancing at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “The one we looked at last week. The lake property.”

The lake property.

My stomach twisted slightly, the memory flashing in my mind. I remembered the sprawling estate overlooking the water, the way the sunlight had danced on the surface of the lake like a thousand tiny diamonds. I remembered how Dante had stood beside me, his hand resting lightly on my back, pointing out the features he liked while I’d barely listened, convinced he couldn’t possibly be serious.

I stared at him now, my disbelief clear on my face. “Oh. You were serious about that?”

Dante’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but close enough to make my pulse skip. “Of course I was serious.”

I folded my arms across my chest, leaning back against the seat. “You say that like it’s obvious.”

“It should be,” he said, his tone calm, measured, as if we were discussing nothing more important than the weather.

I shook my head, letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You don’t exactly have a track record of including me in decisions, Dante. Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

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