Page 92 of Made for Sinners

But the truth was still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind like a splinter I couldn’t dig out.

I stared at myself in the mirror, sitting at the vanity Dante had installed in the corner of the bedroom. The lights around the mirror cast a soft glow over my skin, blurring the sharp edges of my thoughts but not enough to dull them completely.

My dress was a deep, midnight blue—almost black in the right light. It hugged my body like it had been poured on, the fabric smooth and cool against my skin. The neckline dipped low, scandalously low, and the slit up my thigh was just shy of indecent.

It was the kind of dress that said: I’m not here to be polite.

I was here to be seen.

My hair was swept up into a sleek twist, a few loose strands framing my face with practiced elegance. My makeup was sharp—winged liner, smoky eyes, a deep red lip that made me look like I’d bitten someone on the way out the door.

Maybe I had.

I stood, smoothing the fabric over my hips, and slipped into my heels—black stilettos with gold accents that matched the delicate chain around my neck and the thin bracelets stacked on my wrist.

I looked like a woman who belonged in Dante Conti’s world.

I wasn’t sure if that made me proud or sick.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

“Emilia.”

Dante’s voice was low, steady, and far too calm for the storm raging inside me.

I didn’t respond immediately, my eyes flicking to the door in the mirror’s reflection. His silhouette was faintly visible through the frosted glass, tall and immovable.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to relax my grip on the vanity. “What?”

“We need to leave soon,” he said, his tone neutral but threaded with that unmistakable edge of authority he carried everywhere. “Are you ready?”

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as I turned back to the mirror. “Depends on your definition of ‘ready.’”

There was a pause, long enough for me to picture the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his jaw would tighten at my sarcasm.

“Open the door, Emilia.”

I hesitated, my fingers brushing over the edge of the vanity before I stood, smoothing the fabric of my dress. The weight of the photo still lingered in the back of my mind, but I pushed it down, burying it beneath the layers of silk and defiance I’d wrapped myself in.

When I opened the door, Dante’s gaze swept over me, his dark eyes dragging over every inch of the dress, the hair, the makeup.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything.

Then, his lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that made my heart skip for all the wrong reasons.

“You look…” He paused, his eyes meeting mine. “Dangerous.”

I arched a brow, stepping past him into the hallway. “Good.”

His hand found the small of my back as I moved, the heat of his touch bleeding through the fabric like a brand.

“Do you plan on behaving tonight?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

I glanced at him over my shoulder, my lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Not a chance.”

His smirk deepened, his fingers pressing slightly against my back as he guided me toward the elevator. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

I took the chance to look him over. He looked like sin.

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