Page 27 of The Broker

Her eyelashes are so long. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how lush they are. I trace the line of her jaw with my fingertip, and she shivers and takes a step closer, tilting her head up, her lips soft and full.

My head is spinning; I can’t tear myself away from her. I dip my head lower, and my lips settle against hers, soft as a feather, for the merest fraction of a second.

And it feels like coming home.

She sucks in a breath. “Dante,” she whispers.

What the fuck am I doing?“It’s late,” I say harshly, drawing back. “I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. The haze clears slowly from her eyes. “That’s a good idea. Me too.” She takes off my coat and hands it back to me. “Good night, Dante.”

I watch her leave, only one thought in my mind.

I’m so fucked.

14

VALENTINA

Dante Colonna, my nemesis, the bane of my existence, was about to kiss me.

And worst of all, I wanted him to. If he hadn’t stopped, I would have kissed him back. When his lips grazed mine, oh-so-briefly, a shock of need jolted through me.

Not just need. Standing in that moonlit garden, hugging Dante’s woolen coat around my shoulders and my face tilted up toward him, I felt something far more dangerous than need.

It felt likerecognition.

Like this is where I wasmeant to be.

Like every path and every detour I took in life culminated inthis.

In him.

It felt like Dante Colonna was what I’d been searching for. He was mydestination.

The whiskey has clearly gone to your head, Valentina. It’s the only explanation. Alcohol-fueled temporary insanity.

The weird, sharp need still swims in my blood, in my veins. Dante said he was going to shower and go to bed. Is he in the shower now, water cascading lovingly down the taut muscles of his body? Or is he toweling himself dry, chasing stray droplets that cling to his skin? If I tiptoed up the stairs and peeked into his bedroom, would I discover that he sleeps naked?

“Enough,” I say out aloud, my voice sharp. “Cut it out.” It’s one thing for me and Dante to have something of an extended truce while I’m at his house and tacitly agree that we don’t want to bicker in front of Angelica. After the year she’s had, I don’t want to do anything to upset her, and if Dante and I are at war, it will only worry my child.

But it’s another thingentirelyfor me to have lustful thoughts about Dante. Or worse,romanticthoughts. And it’s another thing entirely for me to see the photo Leo took of the three of us at Angelica’s ballet recital in January on Dante’s dresser and let myself imagine us as a family. That road is paved in folly and heartbreak, and I will not subject Angelica to it.

Thankfully, whatever this madness is, it’ll end soon. I’m pretty sure the moment I tell Dante I have a date on Saturday, our truce will come to an end.

Monday is a whirlwind. I hit snooze on my alarm three times before jumping out of bed in a panic. Angelica is going to be late to school.

But when I go into her bedroom, she’s not there. I follow the sound of her voice to the kitchen, where she’s eating breakfast with Dante. “Uncle Dante gave me cereal for breakfast,” she announces when she sees me.

“Because you told me that’s what your mother would give you.” Dante gives her a mock glare. “Right, Angelica?”

“I have cereal for breakfastsometimes.”

My lips twitch. “She has cereal for breakfastrarely,on the days her mother oversleeps. Otherwise, it’s eggs and toast.” I can’t be too mad. Angelica is awake, dressed, and ready for school, and I’m not the sort that looks a gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks for getting it, Dante.”

“It was nothing.”

I can barely look at him this morning. Like Angelica, he’s already dressed for the day. He’s wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of russet-brown corduroy pants, and annoyingly, he’s managing to make the casual outfit look like a million bucks.

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