Page 14 of Made for Sinners

“You will do as you’re told,” my father said again, his voice like steel. “This is your duty.”

My knees felt weak, my chest tightening as the weight of his words settled over me. I turned back to Dante, my vision blurred with unshed tears. “You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please. Don’t do this.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—something that almost looked like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, calculating man I’d come to know.

“It’s already done,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “My lawyer will draft the contract. Once it’s signed, we’ll celebrate.”

Celebrate. The word made my stomach churn. There was nothing to celebrate here. Nothing but my complete and utter defeat.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered, my voice trembling with anger and grief.

Dante’s smirk was a dagger, sharp and cutting, as he leaned closer. The air between us felt electric, crackling with tension that made my skin prickle and my chest tighten. He was too close—close enough that I could smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath, the subtle spice of his cologne that still haunted my dreams.

“A monster?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, like velvet wrapping around steel. “Perhaps. But I’m the monster keeping your family alive. Remember that, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. “I’m not your princess. I’m not your anything.”

His dark eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker there—something raw and unguarded. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the cold, unrelenting mask he always wore. He straightened, his movements slow and deliberate, as if to remind me that he was in control here, that he held all the power.

“You’ll learn,” he said simply, his tone maddeningly calm. “You’ll learn what it means to belong to me.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, and I hated the way my body betrayed me, the way my pulse quickened and my breath hitched despite the fury burning in my chest. I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my composure.

“This isn’t over,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “You can’t just?—”

“Enough,” my father barked, cutting me off. His face was a storm of fury, his hands clenched into fists on the desk. “You will do as you’re told, Emilia. This is not a negotiation.”

I turned to him, my chest heaving as I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Do you even care what this is doing to me?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Do you care at all?”

My father’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he stared me down. “What I care about is this family’s survival,” he said coldly. “And if this is the price we have to pay, then so be it.”

The finality in his tone was like a slap, and I felt the tears I’d been holding back spill over, hot and stinging as they streaked down my cheeks. I turned away, unable to look at him, unable to face the man who had just sold me off like a piece of property.

“Emilia,” Dante said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. But when I turned to him, his expression was anything but kind. His dark eyes were hard, unyielding, as he reached for me again, his fingers brushing against my chin before tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of a promise I couldn’t bring myself to believe. “When you’re still breathing, when your family is still standing, you’ll understand why this had to happen.”

I shook my head, my tears blurring my vision as I pulled away from his touch. “I’ll never thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and grief. “I’ll never forgive you for this.” I spat on the floor at his feet. "Fuck you."

His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile, and he stepped back, his hands sliding into his pockets as he regarded me with an intensity that made my chest ache. “We’ll see,” he said simply, his tone laced with a quiet confidence that made my stomach twist.

“Dante,” Luca’s voice broke through the tension, drawing both of our gazes. He was leaning casually against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene unfold with a faint smirk. “The lawyer’s on his way to ours.”

Dante nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned back to me. “You should get some rest, princess,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

I opened my mouth to respond, to tell him exactly what I thought of his so-called concern, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the study, my footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors as I made my way down the hall.

The tears came harder now, unstoppable and overwhelming, and I hated myself for it. Hated the way he had reduced me to this—a trembling, broken mess. Hated the way my father had betrayed me, the way my family had stood by and let it happen. But most of all, I hated the way a part of me still wanted to turn back, still wanted to fight for the man.

The hallway felt endless, each step dragging me further into the abyss of my own despair. My chest heaved with silent sobs, my hands trembling as they clutched at the fabric of my dress, trying to hold myself together. But it was futile. I was unraveling, piece by piece, and there was no one to stop it.

I reached my bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me, leaning against it as I slid to the floor. The tears came harder now, hot and relentless, and I buried my face in my hands, letting the weight of everything crash over me.

Dante’s words echoed in my mind, cruel and unyielding.“Now you belong to me.”

My stomach twisted, the nausea rising again as I replayed the way he’d looked at me—like I was a prize he’d claimed, a possession he could control. But beneath the anger, beneath the grief, there was something else. Something I didn’t want to admit, even to myself.

Fear.

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