Alora's POV
Dante walked in with slow, calculated steps, his eyes holding mine so intensely that looking away became impossible. What did he want now? And why did he have to come early, right when I was talking to Luciano?
To make matters worse, I just had to act suspicious by dropping my phone.
He walked straight toward me, his gaze fixed on my face as if trying to gauge whether there was any fear or panic. But I was impassive. It seemed like being in the mafia had taught me how to hide emotions—or maybe it was just in my head, and he could actually see through me.
“Alora,” he called my name in his deep, husky voice, which sent a shiver down my spine. Not from cold, but from delight.
And this was why I hated being in this man’s presence. Despite the fact that I despised him, his pres
