Page 36 of The Contract

Babysitter? “I was not gawking.”

Then it hits me.

Wait.

“Hold on. You saw me?”

That does it. Dante’s jaw clenches—sharp, hard, tight. One muscle twitch away from cracking a tooth.

This time, he’s the one who chews for a while. Long enough for me to start unraveling every possible meaning of that twitch.

I’m two seconds from spiraling into full blown what-the-actual-fuck mode when he shoves another perfect bite toward my mouth, clearly just to shut me up.

And yeah. It works.

For now.

“Look,” he says, blowing out a breath. “A wedding wasn’t exactly on my agenda last night. Father Marc and I had business. Business that your gawking was interfering with.”

“Business?” I deadpan. “Let me guess—he flung holy water at your broody face and screamed, ‘The power of Christ compels you.’”

Dante doesn’t flinch. Though I swear behind the roll of his eyes, I almost see a smirk fight for freedom against those full, frowny lips.

“Something like that.”

Then he leans in.

Just slightly. Just enough.

The space between us tightens, the air thick. I feel the heat of him like static on my skin.

His gaze dips. Not to my mouth, thank God, but just off of it. To my cheek, my neck…to all the bruises I’ve been pretending he can’t see.

And just like that, the smirk is gone. Replaced by something darker. Quieter.

His thumb barely skims my cheek. And for a beat, I don’t move. The air between us thrums, tight and trembling, like we’re suspended by a thread stretched too far.

Then his phone buzzes. And just like that, whatever existed between us fractures like thin ice beneath two people who have nowhere to go but under.

He checks the text. Barely a glance before that signature scowl snaps back into place like it never left. “I need to run.” His gaze flicks to me. Just once. “You can’t leave my club looking like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shower’s through there.” He nods toward a door like he didn’t just ignore me completely.

I throw up my hands. “Last I checked, you’re not the boss of me.”

“Closet’s stocked with everything from casual to couture. Grab what you need.”

I gape. “Did you hear what I said?”

He levels me with a look, equal parts irritation and indifference. “I’ll drive you home after my meeting. Since we’re”—he pauses, the word bitter on his tongue—“family.”

Wow.

Could he sound any more repulsed?

I fold my arms across my chest like armor. “Feels more like you’re my warden.”

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