Page 96 of Made for Sinners

As I crossed the room, the crowd seemed to part without effort, their gazes flicking between me and Emilia like they could feel the gravity pulling us toward each other. She hadn’t noticed me yet—too caught up in whatever Adrianna was saying—but I noticed her.

I noticed everything.

The way her dress shimmered under the light, catching like starlight against her skin. The way her fingers curled lightly around the stem of her champagne flute, her nails painted a deep, glossy red that matched her lips. The way she tilted her head slightly when she laughed, the sound low and rich and entirely genuine.

She was breathtaking.

And every step I took toward her felt like a claim, a reminder to everyone in this room that she wasn’t just another beautiful woman in a designer dress.

She was mine.

By the time I reached her, Adrianna had already noticed me, her smile curving into something sly and knowing.

“Dante,” Adrianna said, raising her glass in greeting. Her smile was sharp, but her eyes told a different story. “Come to drag her away already? Or are you just here to remind us all why you shouldn’t be trusted to keep your hands to yourself?”

Her words hit like a blade, clean and deliberate. My jaw tightened as I glanced at Emilia, who stood rigid beside her, her fingers flexing against the stem of her champagne flute.

“Adrianna,” Emilia said quietly, her voice low but firm. A warning. “Not now.”

But Adrianna didn’t stop. She didn’t even look at Emilia. Her gaze stayed locked on me, as sharp and unrelenting as her words. “Not now? Really? Because I think someone needs to remind him that this isn’t something we just sweep under the rug.”

Emilia shifted beside her, her shoulders stiffening, her cheeks flushing. “Adrianna, don’t,” she said, her voice rising slightly, but I held up a hand, stopping her.

“No,” I said, my voice low but steady. “Let her.”

Adrianna arched a brow, her expression daring me to justify myself. The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged, until I finally exhaled and met her gaze head-on.

“She’s right,” I said, the words clawing their way out of me. “I don’t deserve to be let off the hook for what happened that night. I was drunk. Reckless. And that doesn’t excuse it. Nothing excuses it.”

I glanced at Emilia, who was staring at me now, her lips parted, her eyes searching mine. I couldn’t look at her for long. Not yet. Not when I was laying myself bare like this.

“I will hate myself for the rest of my life for hurting her,” I said, my voice rougher now, but I pushed through it. “For losing control. For putting my hands on her in a way that left a mark—a mark I’ll never be able to erase, no matter how much I wish I could.”

Adrianna’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, her gaze turned colder, sharper, like she was dissecting every word, weighing its truth. I didn’t blame her. She had every right to doubt me.

“And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to her,” I continued, forcing myself to meet her stare. “I’ll move every mountain, burn every bridge, drop to my goddamn knees if I have to. Whatever it takes to prove to her that it will never happen again. That I will never lay a hand on her like that again. Ever.”

The words felt like an exorcism, raw and unfiltered, spilling out of me because they needed to be said. Because Adrianna needed to hear them. Because Emilia needed to hear them.

Adrianna tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line as her gaze flicked to Emilia. “Good,” she said finally, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “Because if you ever forget, Dante, I’ll remind you. And trust me, I’m not afraid of you.”

A faint smirk tugged at my lips, though there was no humor in it. “I don’t doubt that,” I said softly.

Emilia let out a shaky breath beside me, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing my arm. “Well,” she said lightly, though her voice carried an edge, “this is officially the most dramatic auction I’ve ever been to.”

Adrianna’s lips curved into a sly smile, raising her glass. “Welcome to the family, darling.”

I reached out, my hand settling on Emilia’s waist as I leaned in closer, my voice low enough for only her to hear. “Are you alright?” I asked, the words rougher than I intended.

She glanced up at me, her eyes soft but guarded, something unspoken passing between us before she gave a small nod. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “But you definitely owe me a castle.”

My lips twitched into a small, genuine smile. “Anything you want, princess.”

Her smile widened slightly, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. She stepped closer, her body brushing against mine just enough to make my pulse quicken. Rising up on her toes, she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, “And that thing you said about dropping to your knees? Wouldn’t be too bad either. You were really good at it last time.”

Heat shot through me, sharp and immediate, my body tightening at the memory of her legs trembling around me, her fingers clutching my hair as I brought her over the edge. My jaw clenched, the glass in my hand suddenly feeling unnecessary. I set it down on a nearby table, my hand flexing against her waist as I forced myself to exhale slowly.

“Careful, Emilia,” I murmured, my voice low and rough. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll drop to my knees right here.”

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