Page 36 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

We were speaking loudly to be heard over the ambient noise of the party around us, and I used it as an excuse to lash forward and grab her hand before she could protest, tugging her closer so she stumbled in those high heels and right against my body.

It was a move I was coming to deeply enjoy.

She scowled up at me, trying to push off my chest with little success as I kept her pinned close with my hands on her silk-covered hips.

“Take your heathen hands off me,” she snapped. “People are watching.”

“I bought the dress,” I argued calmly, my fingers splaying over her slight hips and loving the feel of her long, delicate bones. “It’s only right I should enjoy it.”

“I’ll take it off immediately if you’re so obsessed with it.” Her eyes, a dark gray mottled with bright silver patches and black striations, were frozen with disdain.

It shouldn’t have turned me on. Her vitriol, her constant battle against my will.

I was a man used to getting his own way, and I preferred it that way.

But there was something hypnotic about her, a cold pull like the magnetism of the arctic poles.

Despite myself, I wanted to see if the infamous ice queen would melt under my tongue.

“Do it,” I dared her, bending down to sneer softly in her face. “Give us all a show.”

“I’d rather be naked in front of everyone than have your hands on me for a second longer than necessary,” she practically spat.

“Be my guest,” I purred, already imagining her long, thin body stripped of the luxurious cloth, even more beautiful bared to my eyes. “In fact…” I moved one hand off her hip, banded the other over her low back to keep her immobile, and tucked my raised forefinger under the thin strap of her gown, drawing it slowly down her shoulder.

It was small.

Barely a movement so much as a vibration.

But I felt her shiver against me a moment before she jerked away, stamping her heel on my foot. I released her with a growl that dissolved into loud laughter as I stared at her panting and glaring at me in that dress the color of sin.

“It’s not funny, Dante,” she hissed as those around us turned to watch me laugh at her. A stain of embarrassment marred her cheeks. “Stop it.”

I held a hand up to stall her as my laughter rolled into chuckles and then softened into a broad smile I felt tight in my cheeks. “It’s not a crime to have a bit of fun, Elena.”

She pursed those perfectly formed bow-shaped lips at me like a school marm in a sexy dress. “I could lose my license for having the type of ‘fun’ you consider appropriate.”

My amusement fled, and I took a hard step toward her, glad she didn’t flinch the way she usually did when I approached her like that. It was a small victory, but I’d take what I could in the battle against Elena’s hatred of me and everything I represented. “You and I may have different ideas of morality, but I’m sure I do not have to tell you about the concept ofomertà. Silence between brothers is a holy thing.”

“And I’m your brother?” she asked dryly, hands going to her hips to strike a pose full of sass and fire.

It was a heady thing to know I could make the ice queenburn.

I grinned rakishly as I slid my gaze down her exquisite form. “Not in that dress. Comrades, though. Allies. Whether you like the association or not, Elena, you are now a lawyer for the Camorra. It seems you are only aware of the downsides to the arrangement, but there can be many boons, too.”

Unable to resist, I reached out to run a thumb over the silken skin of her shoulder.

She jerked away, but not before I saw goose bumps erupt over her flesh.

“I don’t need boons from the likes of you,” she said haughtily, adjusting that simple necklace in an oddly provocative way she was completely unaware of. “I want to be professional, nothing else.”

“Ah,lottatrice,” I sighed dramatically and snagged a wineglass from the collection on the kitchen island, offering it to her. “You don’t seem to understand you work for me now. And I make the rules. It is my game for you to play.”

“I could leave your legal team,” she suggested.

She was glaring at me, those storm cloud eyes dark and raging beneath her delicate red brows. It should have been an ugly expression, full of hate, but I saw only the beauty of her face beneath it and the fire of her fight shining through.

I was beginning to understand the intricacies of her character, despite her best efforts to remain aloof. At first, it was difficult to like Elena Lombardi. She was constructed like a work of modern art, all sharp angles, rigid lines, and dominant sensibilities; beautiful and intriguing but difficult to understand. It was only upon further reflection and intense study that the impact of her beauty moved through you, as complicated a feeling as she was a woman.