Chapter 26
Emilia
T he house was too quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy and oppressive, like it was waiting for something to break it. I sat cross-legged on my bed, glaring at my phone as Adrianna’s text stared back at me, taunting me with its sheer ridiculousness.
“Emergency! My mom is insisting on a second engagement party because she says the pictures from the first one were ‘unusable.’ TWO DAYS, Emilia. TWO DAYS. HELP.”
I groaned, letting my head fall back against the headboard. Of course, Adrianna’s mother would pull something like this. The woman had a flair for the dramatics and her obsession with appearances was second to none. But two days? That was insane, even by her standards.
And then there was the real problem—me.
I had nothing to wear.
I’d already exhausted my wardrobe for the first engagement party, and the thought of showing up in something recycled was enough to make my stomach twist. Adrianna’s mother would notice. She always noticed. And the last thing I needed was her passive-aggressive commentary about how I “wasn’t living up to the Ricci name.”
With a sigh, I pushed myself off the bed and padded over to my closet, throwing the doors open with more force than necessary. Dresses hung neatly in a row, a rainbow of fabrics and textures, but none of them felt right. Too formal, too casual, too...not me .
I grabbed a few options anyway, draping them over my arm as I headed downstairs. Maybe my brothers would have an opinion—though the odds of that were slim to none.
I found Tony and Gio in the living room, engrossed in some action movie that was so loud I could feel the bass vibrating through the floor. They didn’t even look up as I walked in, my arms full of dresses.
“Hey,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the sounds of gunfire and explosions. “I need your help.”
Tony glanced at me briefly, his expression bored. “With what?”
“Picking a dress for Adrianna’s engagement party,” I said, holding up the options for them to see. “Which one do you think looks best?”
Gio didn’t even bother looking away from the TV. “They all look fine.”
“Fine?” I repeated, my frustration mounting. “That’s not helpful, Gio.”
Tony shrugged, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table. “Just wear the blue one. Or the red one. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter!” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “This is Adrianna’s second engagement party, and her mom is going to be there, judging everyone like it’s her full-time job. I can’t just wear anything.”
“Then wear the black one,” Tony said, finally glancing at me. “Black’s always a safe choice.”
I groaned, dropping the dresses onto the back of the couch. “You two are useless.”
“Glad we could help,” Gio said, smirking as he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth.
I was about to storm off when a familiar voice cut through the noise, smooth and laced with amusement.
“Trouble in paradise?”
I spun around, my frustration sharpening into irritation the moment I saw him. Dante stood there, casually poised against the doorframe, his dark eyes glinting with that maddening mix of conceit and curiosity.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, unbidden and unwelcome, as flashes of our earlier encounter invaded my thoughts. The memory of his skilled fingers brushing against my skin, his touch deliberate, made me feel bare and vulnerable all over again. He had this infuriating ability to unravel me completely while keeping himself perfectly in control. It was equal parts maddening and...intoxicating.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest in a futile attempt to shield myself from his gaze.
“I was just finishing some business with your father,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling into the room like he owned it. His presence seemed to fill the space, making it feel smaller, more charged. “I figured I’d see what all the commotion was about.”
“There’s no commotion,” I said quickly, my cheeks heating further.
Dante’s gaze flicked to the pile of dresses strewn across the couch, then back to me with a raised brow. “Looks like commotion to me.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s nothing. I just...I don’t have anything to wear to Adrianna’s second engagement party, and my brothers are being completely unhelpful.”
“Shocking,” Dante said dryly, his lips twitching into a smirk.
“Shouldn’t you be leaving?” I asked, glaring at him. His smirk widened, and I had the sudden, frustrating urge to wipe it off his face—preferably with one of the dresses I hated.
He ignored me completely, his attention shifting back to the dresses. “You don’t like any of these?”
“No,” I admitted reluctantly, crossing my arms tighter across my chest. “They’re all wrong.”
Dante tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes studying me with the same intensity he used for business deals—or executions. “Then let’s go find something that’s right.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, already pulling his phone from his pocket like this was the most normal suggestion in the world. “I’ll take you shopping.”
“You?” I repeated, disbelief dripping from every syllable. “You want to take me shopping?”
“Why not?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve got nothing better to do, and clearly, you need help.”
“I don’t need your help,” I shot back quickly, though the words felt hollow even to me.
Dante raised a single eyebrow, his smirk widening as he stepped closer, his voice dropping into that infuriatingly smooth, self-assured tone. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re about two seconds away from a full-blown meltdown.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat. He wasn’t wrong, and he knew it.
“And besides,” he added, his voice shifting into something more teasing, more dangerous, “I’ve got a black card with no limit. So, why not let me fix your little problem?” He leaned in ever so slightly, his smirk curving into something more wicked, more tempting. “Unless, of course, you’d rather keep sulking in those cheap knockoffs and pretending everything’s fine.”
My jaw dropped, and I stared at him, heat rising to my face. “Cheap knockoffs?” I hissed, glaring at him. “You arrogant, insufferable—”
“What?” he interrupted, his smirk practically daring me. “I’m just stating the obvious. No need to get so defensive.”
“I’m not defensive!” I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. “And for your information, this dress is vintage Alexander McQueen. ”
His gaze flicked over me lazily, his head tilting in mock consideration. “Vintage? Is that what they’re calling ‘faded and falling apart’ these days?”
My hands clenched into fists, and I fought the overwhelming urge to throw one of those supposedly “cheap” dresses at his head. “It’s chic, you idiot. Not that someone like you would understand. You probably think style is just throwing on the most expensive suit in your closet and hoping for the best.”
He chuckled, low and deep, the sound grating on my nerves and sending an infuriating shiver down my spine. “And yet, somehow, I still look better than ninety-nine percent of the people in this city. Including you.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, throwing my hands in the air.
“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.
“Don’t patronize me,” I shot back, pointing a finger at him. “You don’t get to waltz in here, insult my clothes, and then act like you’re doing me a favor.”
Dante raised his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “Relax, bambina. It’s just an observation. If it makes you feel better, you can insult me back. Though I’d advise against it. I don’t think you’ll win.”
“Oh, trust me, I could win,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “You’re not as untouchable as you think, Dante.”
He stepped back slightly, his smirk softening into something more amused, more thoughtful. “Careful, Emilia. I might start thinking you like this little game of ours.”
“I don’t,” I said flatly, though the heat rising to my cheeks betrayed me.
“Of course you don’t,” he said smoothly, turning toward the door and adjusting his jacket like he hadn’t just insulted me into a near meltdown. “But the offer still stands. Shopping, my treat. Think about it.”
I stared at him, seething, as he strolled out of the room like he hadn’t just turned my entire morning into chaos.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, snatching my bag from the counter and following after him. “But don’t think for a second I’m going to thank you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dante said over his shoulder, his smirk firmly in place as he opened the door.
The mall was bustling with people, the hum of conversation and the faint strains of upbeat, generic music filling the air. The bright overhead lights glinted off polished floors as shoppers moved from store to store, their arms heavy with bags. Beside me, Dante walked with his usual composed stride, his phone in one hand as he scrolled through what I assumed were emails or messages. He hadn’t said much since we arrived, which, honestly, was fine by me. His presence was distracting enough without him trying to make conversation—or worse, comments.
I wandered through the racks of dresses, pulling a few options and holding them up for inspection. Dante trailed a step or two behind, his focus firmly on his phone, expression unreadable.
“Are you even paying attention?” I finally asked, my frustration bubbling to the surface as I held up a sleek black dress for his opinion.
“I’m multitasking,” he said, not bothering to glance up.
“Right,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Because God forbid you put your phone down for five seconds.”
That got his attention. Dante finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. “If you want my opinion, all you have to do is ask.”
I huffed, shoving the black dress into his hands. “Fine. What about this one?”
He held it up, his gaze sweeping over the fabric before shaking his head. “Too boring.”
“Boring?” I repeated, snatching the dress back. “It’s classic.”
“It’s safe,” he corrected, his tone firm. “You can do better.”
I glared at him, feeling my cheeks heat with annoyance. “ Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the expert on women’s fashion.”
“Do you want my help or not?” he replied smoothly, his mouth curving into that infuriatingly smug smirk.
Before I could argue, he turned toward the racks himself, his long fingers deftly parting hangers as he scanned through the options. I watched in disbelief, half expecting him to pull out something ridiculous just to mess with me. But then he stopped, his hand closing around a dress—a sleek, emerald-green number with a plunging neckline and a thigh-high slit.
“This,” he said, holding it up for me to see. “This is the one.”
I stared at the dress, my cheeks flushing. “Are you serious? That’s...that’s way too much.”
“It’s perfect,” Dante said with conviction, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Go try it on.”
“I don’t know…” I hesitated, my fingers brushing against the silky fabric. The dress was undeniably gorgeous, but it screamed attention—something I wasn’t sure I wanted.
“Emilia,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze met mine. “Trust me.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten, and before I could talk myself out of it, I snatched the dress from his hand and headed for the fitting room.
Inside, I slipped into the dress, the cool silk sliding over my skin like water. It fit perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places, the slit revealing just enough leg to make me feel both powerful and exposed. When I stepped out a few minutes later, my movements hesitant, Dante’s reaction stopped me cold.
His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something softer, something almost...reverent. His dark eyes swept over me slowly, lingering just long enough to make my cheeks flush.
“See?” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Perfect.”
I shifted nervously, my hands smoothing over the fabric. “It’s a little...revealing. ”
“That’s the point,” Dante said, his gaze never leaving mine. “You’ll turn heads. Including Adrianna’s mother’s.”
I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Won’t you have to kill every man in the venue if I wear this?”
He contemplated this for a moment, his lips curving into a familiar, dangerous grin. “Probably,” he said. “But that’s not your concern.”
Before I could protest, he slipped his black card to the sales associate waiting nearby and nodded toward the counter. “We’ll take it. And anything else she needs.”
“Dante,” I said sharply, stepping forward. “I can pay for my own dress.”
“Not today,” he said without looking back, his tone final as he returned to his phone, scrolling as if the matter was already settled.
I stared after him, my heart pounding in my chest, unsure how to take this new dynamic.
The sales associate handed me a garment bag for the green dress, her smile a little too knowing for my liking, and I followed Dante out of the boutique. His long strides carried him ahead of me, his phone already back in his hand as he typed out a message with practiced efficiency. The man could multitask like no one I’d ever seen—effortlessly balancing his criminal empire, a phone call, and, apparently, my wardrobe.
I clutched the bag tighter, my mind still reeling from the way he’d looked at me in that dress. It wasn’t just the usual smirk or the teasing remarks. It was something heavier, something that made my pulse race and my knees feel just a little unsteady. And the worst part? I liked it. I liked the way his eyes had lingered, the way his voice had softened when he told me to trust him.
“Where to next?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as we stepped into the bustling mall corridor.
“I need a few more things,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Shoes, accessories...maybe another dress or two.”
“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing ahead with a flourish. “ I’m at your service.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, stepping ahead of him. He reached out and took the garment bag from me before motionion ahead once more. Watching him as I headed toward one of the larger department stores at the far end of the mall. Dante followed closely, his phone still in hand, but I could feel his attention flicker toward me every so often, like he was keeping tabs on me even while pretending to be distracted.
Inside the store, I made a beeline for the eveningwear section, pulling a few options from the racks as I went. A slinky silver dress, a bold red one with a high neckline, and a navy gown with delicate beading along the bodice. I hesitated over a black cocktail dress with a plunging back, wondering if it was too similar to the green dress Dante had already chosen.
“You’re overthinking it,” Dante said from behind me, his voice startling me out of my thoughts.
I turned to find him leaning casually against a nearby display, his phone still in hand but his dark eyes fixed on me. “I’m not overthinking,” I said defensively, holding up the black dress. “I’m just...considering my options.”
“Try it on,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With a huff, I added the dress to my pile and headed for the fitting rooms. The attendant led me to a spacious stall with a full-length mirror, and I quickly slipped into the black dress. It fit like a glove, the fabric hugging my curves and dipping low enough in the back to make me feel both elegant and daring.
I stepped out of the fitting room, smoothing my hands over the fabric as I turned to face Dante. He was still leaning against the wall, his phone now tucked into his pocket, his attention fully on me.
“Well?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way my heart was pounding.
He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over me slowly, deliberately. “It’s good,” he said after a moment. “But the green one’s still better. ”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Noted.”
I tried on the other dresses, each one eliciting a similar response from Dante—brief, to the point, but somehow still laced with that quiet intensity that made my skin tingle. By the time I was finished, I had two more dresses added to the pile, along with a pair of silver heels that Dante had insisted on approving before I even tried them on.
As we made our way to the accessories section, my eyes caught on a nearby display of lingerie. The mannequins were dressed in delicate lace and silk, the kind of pieces that were equal parts seductive and impractical. I hesitated for a moment, my cheeks flushing as I glanced at Dante out of the corner of my eye.
He was scrolling through his phone again, his expression unreadable, but I knew better than to assume he wasn’t paying attention. The man had a way of noticing everything, even when he pretended not to.
“Don’t be shy,” he said suddenly, his voice low and laced with amusement. “If you’re going to look, you might as well try something on.”
I whipped my head toward him, my cheeks burning. “Excuse me?”
He glanced up from his phone, his smirk firmly in place. “You heard me. Don’t let me stop you.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. “No thank you.”
“Go on. Pick something.” he countered, slipping his phone into his pocket.
For a moment, I considered walking away, just to spite him. But then a wicked thought crossed my mind, and before I could second-guess myself, I turned to the display and grabbed a set—a sheer red lace bra and matching panties, paired with a garter belt that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.
I held it up for him to see, raising an eyebrow. “This one?”
Dante’s smirk faltered, his dark eyes flicking to the lingerie and then back to me. For the first time, he seemed genuinely caught off guard, and the sight of it sent a thrill through me.
“Try it on,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges.
I hesitated, the air between us pulsing with tension. “Do you want to come with me?” I asked, my tone light and teasing, though my pulse was racing.
Dante’s jaw tightened, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. He took a step towards me and for a moment, I thought he might actually follow me into the fitting room, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the spell.
He pulled it out with a sharp exhale, glancing at the screen before muttering something under his breath. “I have to take this,” he said, his voice clipped. “But don’t think this conversation is over.”
I watched as he stepped away, his phone pressed to his ear, his tone shifting into something cold and authoritative as he spoke. My heart was still pounding, my skin still tingling from the way he’d looked at me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if his phone hadn’t interrupted us.
With a shaky breath, I turned back to the display, my fingers brushing against the delicate lace.
My cheeks were still warm, the memory of Dante’s voice—low, rough, and entirely too tempting—lingering in my ears. Try it on. The words played on a loop in my mind, each repetition sending a shiver down my spine.
I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting him to be standing there, watching me with that maddening smirk. But he wasn’t. He was still a few feet away, pacing near the entrance to the store, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in clipped, authoritative tones. Whatever conversation he was having, it was clearly important, his expression sharp and focused in a way that made him seem even more untouchable.
Good. I needed the space. The air between us had been crackling with tension since the moment he’d walked into my house, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take without completely unraveling.
With a deep breath, I turned back to the lingerie display and made my decision. Screw it. I grabbed the set and headed for the fitting rooms, my steps quick and deliberate. The sales associate gave me a knowing smile as she unlocked a stall for me, but I ignored her, slipping inside and locking the door behind me.
The fitting room was small but well-lit, the kind of space that didn’t allow for illusions. I hung the crimson lingerie on the hook, its bold color catching the light, and took a moment to steady myself. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the hem of my sweater.
The memory hit before I could stop it. Blood. Hot and sticky, splattered across my dress. His hands on my arms, steadying me. His voice, low and deliberate, cutting through the chaos…
Red suits you.
I swallowed hard, dragging myself back to the present. Was I doing this to prove something to him? To myself?
I slipped out of my clothes, the cool air brushing against my skin as I reached for the lace set. The fabric was softer than I expected, whispering against my fingertips as I fastened the bra and adjusted the straps. The panties were a perfect fit, sitting low on my hips, and the garter belt added a final touch of decadence that made me feel like a different person entirely.
I turned to the mirror, my breath catching in my throat as I took in my reflection. The red lace contrasted sharply against my skin, the sheer fabric leaving just enough to the imagination. It was bold, daring, and entirely out of my comfort zone—and yet, I couldn’t deny how it made me feel. Powerful. Desirable. Alive.
The mirror didn’t lie. The crimson fabric felt daring, almost indecent. On anyone else, it might’ve looked cheap, but somehow, it worked. Somehow, I made it work.
I smoothed the fabric over my hips, heat rising in my cheeks. For better or worse, he’d been right.
A knock at the door startled me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. My heart raced as I scrambled to cover myself, my hands fumbling for the sweater I’d discarded on the bench.
“Emilia,” Dante’s voice came through the door, low and commanding. “Are you done in there?”
I froze, my pulse pounding in my ears. “What are you doing back here?” I managed to say, my voice higher than I intended.
“Checking on you,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “You’ve been in there a while.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, clutching the sweater to my chest like a lifeline. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
There was a pause, and for a moment, I thought he might actually leave. But then his voice came again, quieter this time, almost teasing. “Are you trying it on?”
My cheeks burned, and I turned away from the door, as if that could somehow shield me from the weight of his words. “That’s none of your business,” I shot back, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me.
“Are you going to show me, or do I have to come in there myself?” he said, the words sending a shiver down my spine. I could hear his grin.
My breath caught, and I spun back toward the door, my heart racing. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” he countered, his voice a low rumble that made my knees weak.
I stared at the door, my mind racing as I tried to come up with a response. But the truth was, I didn’t know what to say. The idea of him seeing me like this—vulnerable, exposed—was both terrifying and exhilarating, and I hated how much I wanted it.
“Dante,” I said finally, my voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Please.”
There was a long pause, and I could hear the faint sound of his breathing on the other side of the door. When he finally spoke, his tone was softer, but no less intense. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll wait. But don’t keep me waiting too long.”
I exhaled shakily, my hands trembling as I reached for my clothes. I couldn’t do this. Not here, not like this. The tension between us was already unbearable, and the last thing I needed was to give him more ammunition to use against me.
I changed back into my sweater and jeans, carefully folding the lingerie and placing it back on the hanger. When I stepped out of the fitting room, Dante was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes fixed on me. His gaze flicked to the hanger in my hand, and his lips curved into a knowing smirk.
“Well?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.
I held the lingerie out to him, my cheeks flaming. “It’s fine,” I said quickly. “I’ll take it.”
Dante’s smirk widened, and he reached for the hanger, his fingers brushing against mine for just a moment. The brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I hated how easily he could affect me.
“Good choice,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I’ll take care of it.”
Before I could protest, he turned and headed for the register, his long strides carrying him away before I could find the words to argue. I watched him go, my heart still racing, and I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d just gotten myself into.
The ride home was quiet, the tension between us simmering just below the surface. Dante’s phone buzzed occasionally, but he ignored it, his attention focused on the road. I stared out the window, my thoughts a chaotic mess as I replayed the events of the day in my mind.
When we finally pulled up to the house, Dante killed the engine and turned to look at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “I’ll see you at the party,” he said, his voice softer than I expected.
I nodded, my throat too tight to respond. As I stepped out of the car and headed for the front door, I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and unrelenting. And as much as I hated to admit it, a part of me didn’t want him to look away.