Page 47 of The Contract

Dante’s promise swims through my veins, but beneath it, an undercurrent of reckless courage.

I could scream right now.

Spill every filthy secret straight onto the FBI’s doorstep. Hell, throw in some extra bullshit for flavor—just enough to watch Enzo dragged away in cuffs.

But then Dante’s warning coils tight around my throat, choking off every single word.

If true crime podcasts taught me anything, it’s that rich assholes always have lawyers on speed dial. Bail is just pocket change.

And once he’s out—then what?

Is there anywhere on God’s green earth Kennedy and I could hide?

Dante’s palm settles at the small of my back, deceptively gentle, though it’s lightyears from innocent. Possessive. Branding. Burning straight through my psyche in a take-no-prisoners demand. “Answer him, Riley.”

And just like that, reality crashes back in. A reminder that, oh yeah?—

I hate him.

Hate his touch.

Hate his scowl.

Hate knowing that if I don’t obey—if I don’t do exactly as he says—I’ll be punished.

But most of all, I hate the molten heat pooling low in my belly, spilling shamelessly down my thighs. The power this man has over me is infuriating.

My eyes narrow into slits.

“Everything’s fine,” I grit out, forcing each syllable through teeth tight enough to crack walnuts.

Dante’s hand retreats, replaced by a cold, empty chill. Goddamnit, I hate that too.

“You heard her, Knox,” Dante drawls smoothly. “Everything’s fine.”

Caleb just nods. “Well, then, how about a ride, Riley. I’m happy to take you wherever you want.”

Dante slides between us—protective, possessive—his voice giving all the warmth of a steel trap. “She has a ride. Me. And we were just leaving.”

It’s like I’m stuck somewhere between the prize he cherishes and the territory he’s determined to piss all over.

The thing is, I know none of his macho horseshit is actually about me. It’s all for Knox, and frankly, I’m done being Dante’s personal fire hydrant.

Defiance surges beneath my skin like molten lava. Knox tosses me a casual salute, but before he can turn away, I snatch back the reins to my dumpster-fire life.

“Actually,” I chirp sweetly, flashing my brightest smile straight into Caleb’s eager face, “I could really use that ride.”

My innocent eyes and batting lashes aren’t lost on Dante. Hell, the steam pouring from his ears could power a freight train. He remains silent.

Score one for me.

“You heading uptown?” I ask Caleb, taking a cautious step toward him. Then another. Then another.

He beams back, practically glowing. “Anywhere you want, Riley.”

“Ahem.” Dante clears his throat.

I’m not sure what he’s about to do, but he simply extends a black card stamped with a pitchfork and sleek gold lettering.

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