Dante’s POV
Lucia stood in the center of the room, arms crossed tightly over her chest, fire burning in her eyes. I had expected resistance, but she was far more stubborn than I had anticipated.
“Where are we going?” she demanded, her voice sharp with anger.
I adjusted the cuffs of my suit, not bothering to look at her. “No questions.”
“No questions? After what I’ve heard about the so-called Ball? I’m not going anywhere.”
A sigh left my lips as I pinched the bridge of my nose. This woman. She had a way of testing my patience like no other.
I had taken many women to this event before—some trembling with fear, others eager to be paraded like trophies—but never had one refused. Never had one looked me in the eyes like they had a choice.
“Lucia,” I said, stepping toward her, my voice c
