"Sometimes those are the same thing."
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I can see something flickering in his blue eyes. Something that wasn't there before, or maybe I just never noticed it. The way his gaze drifts briefly to my lips before snapping back to my eyes. The slight tension in his jaw. The way he's standing just a little too close for this to be purely professional.
Interesting.
"Come on," he says finally, jerking his head toward the house. "Your mom's making breakfast. You should eat something before you attempt your next daring escape."
"I'm not hungry."
"You're always hungry. I've been watching you for a week, remember? You eat like you're storing up for hibernation."
"That's—" I start to snap at him, but then I catch that look again. The way his eyes linger on my face, taking in details he doesn't need to notice for security purposes. The way his breathing changes almost imperceptibly when I step closer.
Oh.
Well, well, well. Dante Mancini, professional badass and Vito's most trusted enforcer, is attracted to me. This could be... useful.
I let my anger drain away, replacing it with something softer. Something more calculated. "You know what? You're right. I am hungry."
The change in my tone catches him off guard. I can see it in the way his eyebrows twitch upward, the slight confusion that crosses his features.
"I... what?"
"Breakfast sounds good," I say, moving past him toward the house. I let my shoulder brush against his arm as I pass, just barely. Just enough. "Thanks for looking out for me, Dante."
I can feel his stare burning into my back as I walk away, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.
Two can play this game, and I think I just figured out how to change the rules.
Maybe escaping isn't the only way to get what I want. Maybe there's another approach entirely.
One that involves getting Dante Mancini wrapped around my little finger.
CHAPTER 8
Dante
"More coffee, Dante?"Olga asks, already reaching for the pot.
"Please," I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the fact that Sofia's hand has just landed on my knee under the table.
I shoot her a warning look, but she's the picture of innocence, buttering her toast with only one hand while asking her mother about the weather. Her other hand creeps higher.
"Such a beautiful morning," Sofia says conversationally, her fingers now resting on my thigh. "Don't you think so, Dante?"
The little minx doesn't even look at me when she says it, just takes a delicate bite of her toast like she's not currently testing my self-control.
"Gorgeous," I manage, wrapping my fingers around my fork tighter. The uncomfortable pressure of the metal is the only thing keeping me from thinking about that silver dress again.
Skin exposed.
Cheeks flushed from dancing.
"I was thinking," Sofia continues, and her thumb traces a small circle against my leg, "maybe I should start helpingmore around the house. You know, setting the table, preparing meals..."
Her hand moves higher, and I clear my throat loudly.
"That's wonderful,cara," Olga beams, completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter is currently trying to seduce her bodyguard. "You've always been such a good helper."
