Page 57 of Made for Sinners

For a moment, there was only silence—heavy, charged, dangerous.

Then, slowly, his head tilted, his expression shifting from amusement to something far more lethal. “Valentina?” herepeated, his voice low, edged with something dark. “What are you—” His eyes narrowed slightly, and then realization dawned. “How much did you see?”

I swallowed, my pulse hammering.

Dante exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I’m going to kill Luca.”

“This isn’t about Luca!” I snapped, my hands curling into fists. “This is aboutyou. About you sitting there with her like—like?—”

“Like what?” he murmured, stepping closer again, his presence swallowing the space between us. “Like I own the place? Because I do.”

I let out a frustrated sound, shoving at his chest. He didn’t move. Didn’t evenflinch. “You’re anasshole.”

His lips twitched. “And you’re jealous.”

I scoffed, but the sound was weak. “I amnot?—”

His hands slammed down on either side of me, caging me against the counter. The movement was so sudden, sodeliberate, that my breath hitched.

Dante leaned in, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “You’re jealous,princess,” he said, his tone almostmocking. “And you don’t even bother hiding it.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze, my nails digging into my palms. “I don’t care what you do.”

His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “Liar.”

I hated the way heknew.

His fingers brushed against my waist, the touch barely there, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “Tell me,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Did you spend the whole night watching me? Or just long enough to get yourself worked up?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But he saw it anyway.

Dante’s hand slid lower, his palm pressing against my hip, his grip firm and possessive. “You don’t like seeing me with her,” he mused, his voice a dark whisper. “Do you?”

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering against my ribs. “You’re delusional.”

He chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Maybe.” His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against my hip, his touch burning through the thin silky fabric. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

I hated the way my body responded to him, the way my breath came faster, the way my skinburnedunder his touch.

His hand moved again, sliding from my hip to my lower stomach, his touch deliberate,possessive.

I should have pushed him away.

I should have slapped him, screamed at him, told him to go to hell.

But I didn’t.

Because the truth was, Iwasjealous.

And Danteknew it.

And worse?

Heliked it.

His lips brushed against my ear, his voice a dark promise. “You belong tome, Emilia,” he murmured. “And no one else matters.”

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