Chapter 18

Dante stood at the other end of the hall, talking to a beautiful redhead and an Asian man with cheekbones sharp enough to cut ice. He smiled at something they said, his expression warm.

So he was capable of normal human emotion after all.Good to know.

My blood burned a little hotter, either from the alcohol or from the sight of his real smile. I chose to believe it was the former.

Dante must've felt the weight of my stare because he stopped talking and looked up.

Our eyes locked, and the warmth disappeared from his face like the sun beneath the horizon.

My heartbeats crashed against each other.

A double-length hallway's worth of space separated us, but his displeasure was so potent it seeped through the air and into my body like a deadly poison.

Dante excused himself from his guests and stalked toward me, his powerful, muscled frame slicing through the crowd with the single-minded surety of a predator locked onto its prey.

Tingles of alarm cascaded down my spine, but I forced myself to hold my ground even as every self-preservation instinct screamed at me torun.

It's fine. He won't kill you in public. Probably. Maybe.

"Lovely party. I'm afraid my invitation got lost in the mail, but I made it," I said when he neared. I plucked a glass off a nearby tray and held it out. "Champagne?"

"Your invitation isn't what's lost,mia cara." The velvety endearment would've been swoon-worthy had it not been for the darkness seething beneath the surface. He didn't touch the offered drink. "What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the food and artwork." I brought the glass to my lips and took a sip. Nothing tasted quite as sweet as liquid courage. "You have exquisite taste, though your manners could use improvement."

A hard smile slashed across his mouth. "How ironic you're always lecturing me on manners when you're the one who showed up uninvited to a private event."

"We're engaged." I stopped beating around the bush and cut straight to the heart of the matter. The faster I got this out of the way, the faster I could leave. "We haven't exchanged a single word since the dinner even though I'm supposed to move innext week. I don't expect love declarations and flowers every day"—though that'd be nice—"but I do expect basic courtesy and communication skills. Since you appear incapable of taking the initiative, I did it myself."

I finished my drink and set it down. "Oh, and don't consider this me showing up uninvited. Consider it me accepting your invitation early. After all, you did agree to me moving in, did you not? I simply wanted a look at my new home before I committed to it."

My pulse raced with nerves, but I kept an even tone. I couldn't set a precedent of backing down whenever Dante was upset. If he sensed any weakness, he'd pounce.

Dante's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"That was quite a speech. You certainly didn't have this much to say at dinner the other night." The cold steel of his voice melted into rough silk as his gaze swept over me, gathering heat the farther it traveled. "I almost don't recognize you."

The intimacy of his double meaning throbbed in my veins and dropped between my legs.

My tweed and pearls were safely tucked in the back of my closet now that I'd returned to New York. Instead, I wore a classic black cocktail dress, heels, and my favorite red lipstick. Diamonds glittered around my neck and on my ears. It wasn't anything groundbreaking, but it was the best I could do when rushing to get ready.

However, the intensity of Dante's scrutiny made me feel like I'd showed up to a church reunion in a string bikini.

My stomach tightened when his gaze trailed from my face down over my chest to where my dress hugged my hips. It skimmed over the bare length of my legs, the perusal almost obscene in its laziness and erotic in its thoroughness, like the caress of a lover determined to map every inch of my body with his attention.

My throat dried. A flame ignited low in my stomach, and I suddenly wished I'd worn a conservative suit again tonight.

It was safer. Less capable of fogging my mind with rough drawls and electric attraction.

What were we talking about?

"Different occasions require different approaches." I grasped for words and hoped they made sense.

I cocked an eyebrow, praying Dante couldn't hear how fast my heart was beating. I knew it was physically impossible, but I couldn't shake the eerie sense he could see straight through me like I was made of nothing more than a thousand pieces of broken, transparent glass.

"You might want to try that strategy sometime," I added, determined to keep the conversation going so I didn't sink into the mind-numbing heat of his stare again. "People might like you better."

"I would if I cared about others' opinions." He dragged his eyes back up to mine, the picture of mocking cruelty once more. "Unlike some of my esteemed guests, I don't derive my self-worth from what people think of me."