Page 120 of Made for Sinners

Eventually, her phone buzzed.

“My driver’s here,” she said, standing and wobbling slightly in her heels.

I walked her to the door, hugging her tightly. “Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime, babe. And if you need backup, you know I’ve got a shovel and a very understanding husband.”

I laughed. “I’ll put you both on speed dial.”

She winked and disappeared down the hallway, her laughter echoing behind her.

I closed the door and leaned against it, the silence of the penthouse settling around me like a blanket. The buzz of the wine still hummed in my veins, but beneath it was something heavier. Something I couldn’t shake.

I wandered into the kitchen, barefoot and slightly tipsy, and leaned against the counter. The overhead lights cast a soft glow over the marble, and I stared at the row of White Claws in the fridge like they might offer answers.

I debated grabbing another one.

And that’s when I heard the door open.

I turned, heart skipping a beat.

Dante.

He stepped inside, his tie loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his expression unreadable. He looked tired. Dangerous. Like he’d been somewhere dark and left a piece of himself behind.

He walked toward me, and without thinking, I reached into the fridge, grabbed a White Claw, and held it out to him.

He took it without a word, cracked it open, and chugged half of it in one go.

I stared.

“Hey,” I said, blinking. “That was half my White Claw.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s garbage. I’m telling the housekeeper to throw them away.”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, my gaze dropped.

And I froze.

The water in the sink was running.

Pink.

He was washing his hands.

Blood.

I raised a brow. “Good day at work?”

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Productive.”

He stepped closer, and before I could react, he wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me onto the counter. The marble was cold against the backs of my thighs, and I gasped as he stepped between my legs, forcing them apart.

He braced his hands on either side of me, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“I had business to take care of,” he said.

“Bloody business,” I pointed out.

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