Page 27 of Shadows of Steel
“Keep dreaming,” I say, lifting my chin slightly. “That will never happen.”
Dante laughs, a low, dark sound that lingers in the air, brushing over my skin like velvet. “One should never speak in absolutes.” He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “Everyone has their urges.”
I know exactly where he’s heading with this, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction. “Unquestionably,” I cut him off, a smirk curling at the corner of my lips. “And I’ll satisfy mine elsewhere.”
I see the moment his entire expression shifts. His smirk vanishes, his jaw tightens, and his pupils darken, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface. A vein pulses at his temple. I know I’ve struck a nerve. Faster than I can blink, he’s in my space again, and this time, there’s nowhere to go. His hand circles my throat, big enough to encase it completely, his grip firm. With a push, my back meets the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him. His fingers press just enough to make me gasp, applying pressure but not enough to steal my air. The champagne flute in my hand tilts, the golden liquid nearly spilling over the rim.
“From this moment forward, you’re mine, Harlow. Every breath, every thought, belongs to me. No man will touch you.” His voice is a growl, his grip tightening, stealing my breath, his presence suffocating.
“Your attention is mine alone,” he whispers, his lips grazing my ear. “I’ll leave a trail of dead bodies in my wake for anyonewho dares to touch what’s mine. If you want that blood on your conscience, feel free to indulge.”
His thumb presses against my pulse, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath my skin. I don’t look away. I won’t.
A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before he releases me, stepping back, adjusting his suit like nothing happened. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, champagne still in hand, my breath uneven.
What the fuck just happened?
***
The rest of the evening passes in a hazy blur.
As we depart the restaurant, I press a gentle kiss to my grandfather’s cheek before turning toward Michael. “I’ll see you at the wedding.” I murmur, the words surreal as they slip from my lips.
The event is merely days away.
Five, to be precise.
The urgency feels entirely unjustified, yet my opinion appears inconsequential, a fact that irks me beyond measure.
I approach my father and brothers, offering my farewells, each exchange weighted more heavily than I anticipated. Darion's eyes linger on mine, assessing me quietly. “Are you certain you don’t wish to stay at our estate?” His tone remains deceptively casual, though an undertone of tension is evident. “It feels as though we’ve only just found you, yet we’re already losing you again.”
A peculiar tightness grips my chest, but I swiftly suppress it. “Yes, I'd prefer to spend these last few days at my apartment, alone, if you don't mind.”
Giovanni steps forward, his expression inscrutable yet softened by quiet sincerity. “I hope you’ll visit us while you'restill in Palermo. We have a few days remaining before the wedding, and I’d like to take advantage of that time.”
I nod, forcing a delicate smile. “I will. I promise.”
Niccolò moves in, enveloping me in a firm embrace, holding me for just a heartbeat longer than expected, before he steps back, leaving a lingering warmth behind.
I glance past him, catching the way Giovanni’s eyes narrow as he looks at Dante. They exchange a silent conversation, one I don’t quite understand, one that, if I had to guess, is some kind of unspoken warning.
Dante, of course, remains utterly composed.
Enzo clears his throat, shifting the tension. “I’ll take you home,” he offers. “I’ll have a valet bring the car around.”
Before I can answer, Dante speaks.
“That won’t be necessary.”
His voice is final. Enzo’s eyes narrow slightly, but Dante doesn’t waver.
“I’ll see thatmy fiancéegets home safely.” He exhales a quiet, humourless chuckle before adding under his breath. “If you can even call that apartment a fucking home.”
I don’t miss the way he glances at me when he says it. Tension stretches between him and my brothers, but it’s Dante who wins. Without waiting for further argument, he reaches out, pressing a firm hand against the small of my back and guiding me toward the valet station.
He tosses his keys to the young man standing there, but when the valet’s eyes flick to me, Dante’s expression turns lethal.
“Bring the fucking car and stop gawking at my fiancée.” He growls lethally. “Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you move, now.”
