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January 6 - January 8, 2024
Who he thought he was fooling with such a sheepish guise, I hadn’t a clue. It should have been obvious to all and sundry that Dante was a wolf.
He looked criminal, filled with wicked intent and handsome enough to tempt the pope to sin.
Even though I loved her deeply, I dreaded any comparison to my youngest sister.
In a comparison battle, anyone would lose to Cosi. Still, I hated to lose.
Instead, I gasped because the air compressed from my lungs by the weight of a large, incredibly heavy Italian man caging me against the seat.
could comb through every spoken word looking for loopholes and intel that might assist Yara in persuading the judge that Dante Salvatore, born as Edward Davenport, second son to one of the wealthiest peerages in England, was worthy of bail.
The cat would resent me in the end, just as most people seemed to, and I didn’t think I could stand another rejection.
God, I was so fucking tired of being alone.
Caving into my childish impulse, I lashed my tongue out against his palm. He pulled away, staring at his moistened hand incredulously. “Did you just lick me?”
Like maybe we could be friends.
But Dante looked at me as if I was some priceless, mysterious work of art, and he wanted to know the story behind my almost smile.
“No,” he agreed on a low purr that was more threat than seduction. “Vieni qui, lottatrice mia.” Come here, my fighter.
“You’re so goddamn afraid of being soft and tender because all that silk beneath your armor would rip so easily in the wrong hands.
This insecurity blinds you to the truth. It corrodes the goodness in you. If you saw what I saw when I looked at you, you would never doubt yourself again.
“Elena,” he protested, and I hated the way he said it with the lyrical Italian accent as if it was exotic and beautiful. As if I was.
“Hey,” he said with a blasé shrug as if it was nothing. “You remind me of my wife. It was nothing to do.” “What’s she like?” I asked as we took the elevator down to the street level. He shot me a sidelong glance. “She’s a real bitch.” I laughed the entire ride down.
Who told you that you were hard to love? Give me a chance to prove them wrong.”
Whatever you and I are made of, it’s the same. You don’t have to be good with me, right or true in any sense, but especially the conventional. You can be your worst self with me, because Elena, it’s the contradictory nature of your soul that intoxicates me.”

