Page 34 of The Broker

Dante sidesteps the question. “That is a lovely dress,” he says smoothly. “You look beautiful.”

I ball my hands into fists. Is that desire in Dante’s voice? Does he find her hot? I don’t have any video of this nauseating conversation, just audio, but I snooped on the city website earlier and found a photo of Lara, who has lustrous black hair cascading down her shoulders and white, even teeth displayed in a wide smile. She looked pretty and polished, charming and graceful.

I look down at my gray sweatshirt and my cargo pants. Ugh. The clothes are clean; that’s about the nicest thing I can say about my outfit. And polished, I am not.

And why do I care?

Lara and Dante make small talk over drinks. An Aperol Spritz for her and an espresso for him. I learn that they met when Dante was visiting the mayor. Why was Dante in the mayor’s office? Not a clue; I’m not privy to his every move. Although, given that his nickname is the Broker, he was probably making a deal of some kind.

“I love this restaurant,” Lara says with another giggle. “It’s so romantic.” She giggles again, and I grit my teeth to keep from screaming. When is that damn Viagra showing up? I almost want to throw down the headphones and go take a shower. Scrub out the thoughts in my head with soap and shampoo. Why am I putting myself through this? Why am I torturing myself?

The waiter arrives and asks them if they’re ready to order food. Dante orders a shrimp appetizer, and Lara suggests the two of them share. I roll my eyes. “Get your own damn food,” I mutter grouchily. Dante probably has no idea—guys are clueless—but Lara’s ploy is all too obvious. Share a plate of appetizers, reach for the same piece of shrimp as Dante, and make sure your fingertips brush against his? Oops, that was a total accident; I didn’t plan thatat all.

Where the hell is that delivery driver, anyway? He should be here by now.

He finally arrives just after the waiter has set down the mains. “Signor Colonna,” a man’s voice says, interrupting Lara’s story about one of her co-workers. “I have a delivery for you.”

This is my moment of triumph, but I can’t go through with it. I tear off my headphones and throw them down on the desk. I can’t hear any more of this. I shouldn’t have fucked with Dante’s date. It’s none of my business what he does in his personal life. And if Lara is the woman he’s meant to be with, then so be it. I’m not miserable; the ache in my stomach is probably just indigestion.

I’m so lost in my recriminations that I don’t hear Dante come up the stairs. I don’t hear him enter his bedroom. It isn’t until he enters his office that I realize he’s back home.

He stalks into the room, his dark eyes flashing, menace radiating from every line of his body. I rise from my chair on instinct, but it’s too late to escape. Dante is between me and the door. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Not that I was planning to run.

I turn and face him, my chin raised. “Didn’t like my present?” I taunt. “What’s the matter? Did Lara run away when she found out about yourproblem?She wasn’t understanding about your little blue pill?”

“Listening in on my date?” He moves closer, caging me between his body and the window. My ass presses against the cold glass, and I shiver. Dante notices, and his nostrils flare. “You never answered my question, Valentina,” he says. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shoot back. “I don’t.”

“Is that so?” He laughs, his voice low. “You planted a bug on me because you don’t care? You hacked into my credit card and sent Viagra to a restaurant because you don’t care?” He strokes my lower lip with his thumb. Heat flares through my body, a sudden flame that almost makes me moan aloud.

“Such a pretty mouth.” His tone is hypnotic. His touch, even more so. “Such a pretty, lying mouth. Try again, Valentina. Why do you care?”

I want him. I want him so damn much. But it’s Dante Colonna. My nemesis. Angelica’s uncle. Can’t let myself forget that.

“You go out on so many first dates,” I say sweetly. My breath feels like it’s coming in ragged gasps. “Never see the same woman again. You obviously have a problem.” I stare into his darkly inviting eyes. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Mmm.” He slips his thumb between my lips. I lick it, just a little, and his eyes darken. “So, according to you, the reason I’m not planning on seeing Lara again is because I can’t get it up? That’s what’s keeping me from being in a relationship.”

“Exactly.” Don’t suck his thumb into your mouth. Do not suck his thumb into your mouth. Do not wrap your lips around it and lick it like a popsicle. And whatever you do,definitelydon’t think about doing the same with his cock. “What other reason could there be?”

The pulse in my neck beats like the wings of a caged bird. Dante lowers his mouth to that spot, his tongue a live current of heat and desire. I’ve kept this feeling contained for almost ten years, but Dante’s skillful lips set the genie in the bottle free.

He presses his body against mine. I feel his erection touching my stomach, a hard bar that makes a liar out of my words. “Because she’s not you,” he says, anger and frustration coating every syllable. “That’s why I’m never going to see Lara again. That’s why I never see any of those damned women again. Because none of themare you.”

And then Dante Colonna, my nemesis, the bane of my existence, kisses me.

On Saturday, when Dante showed me his moonlight rooftop garden and grazed his lips across mine, I felt tingles everywhere. But that was only a preview of the real thing.

The real thing is. . . fireworks. Heat. A raw current of desire. He slides his tongue into my mouth, his hand cupping the nape of my neck. My heart thumps erratically. It’s been ten years, but that’s not the only reason for the shiver that runs through me. Underneath the lust, underneath the drugging desire that fills my blood, is something far more dangerous. It’s the feeling like this is where I was always meant to be. It feels like coming home.

Dante kisses me like I’m a cold glass of water on a hot summer day. No, that’s not quite it. He kisses me like a man who’s been dying of thirst, aching need in every swipe of his tongue, in every nibble of his lips. I kiss him back, a thrill shooting up my spine. “You think I need Viagra?” he growls into my ear. “I only have to look at you, and I’m hard.”

There are a thousand reasons this is a bad idea. I can’t remember any of them now. All thought has fled my brain, and what’s left is pure, potent desire.

Dante nibbles a path down the side of my throat, slow and heated, and this time, I can’t hold back my gasp of pleasure. A fire ignites in me, and I press into him, my breasts smashed against his muscled chest, my nipples swollen with need, my fingers bunching in his cashmere sweater.

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