Page 5 of The Wrong Mafia Bride
“Dante?” I question, jerking against his hand.
“The prince of the Italian Mafia,” he counters.
His gaze drops briefly to my lips before meeting my eyes again, light grey and annoyingly amused. I can feel the heat of his body, the strength behind it, the subtle restraint in the way he holds me—as if he’s giving me every chance to throw him off if I truly want to.
I don’t. Not immediately at least.
His mouth curves in a slow, wicked smile. “Don’t make me kill you,Bella.”
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, and lean my head back against the railing, “Rosalina Carter.”
“Carter?”
“Adoptive daughter,” I groan, shifting under his weight. “Wanted to keep my birth name, so yes. Carter.”
“You’re Erin’s guardian,” Gabriel nods, releasing me as he pushes himself back up to his feet and extends a hand.
“Guilty,” I agree as I take his outstretched hand, and he yanks me effortlessly to my feet.
He looks me over now that I’m standing—my curls still slightly mussed from the scuffle, my dark green blouse wrinkled and hanging out of my skin-tight bell bottoms slightly.
“What?” I question, as I tuck in my shirt again.
“Why are you here, Carter?” he asks, tone low but no longer threatening.
I adjust the collar of my shirt, clearing my throat. “I was trying to get a peek at Dante for Erin.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “You’re spying for your princess.”
“She wanted to make sure your cousin was not a troll.”
“You can tell by looking at me that my cousin is not a troll,” he says, the cocky tone of his voice making my heart flutter, because he’s not wrong. Gabriel is far from a troll, and if Dante looks even a fraction as good as him then Erin will be ecstatic, but I don’t tell this cocky bastard that.
“Hmm, I am not completely sure,” I smirk, as I turn around to look back at the office.
Before he can argue any further, the office door below opens. Heavy footsteps followed by the light tenor of Seamus’s voice draws my attention to the two figures exiting the office.
Gabriel steps in closer, bracing his hands on the railing on either side of me, caging me in without even brushing my skin. The heat coming off his body floods the narrow space between us, tightening every nerve in my body until I’m painfully aware of how close his chest is to my back, how the air shifts with his breath, how little effort it would take for him to close the distance entirely.
“That guy,” he murmurs low in my ear, “is Dante.”
My breath catches before I can stop it.
Dante Salvatore steps into view—tall, broad through the shoulders, black button-up unbuttoned just enough to show theink spread across his chest and the start of a tattoo crawling up his throat. His hair is slicked back, glossy and neat, sharp against the chiseled angle of his jaw. And those oceanic blue eyes seem to drown out the entire hallway.
He is devastating. Unfairly gorgeous. And absolutely nothing like the monster Erin imagined.
I swallow hard. “Holy hell,” I whisper.
Gabriel hums. “Not a troll then?”
“Not even close,” I whisper out, leaning forward so I can see more of him, but only jerking away when my ass rubs against the hard tent in Gabriel’s pants.
Dante speaks to Seamus in a low raspy voice, that sounds like he would be an amazing jazz singer. They shake hands, firm and decisive, and I realize I need to slip away before Seamus looks up and sees me.
“I have to tell Erin,” I blurt, already slipping under Gabriel’s arm and darting away from the railing.
“You’re going to leave me already?” Gabriel calls after me.
