SERENA
Deciding to jump out of my comfort zone, I grab the wine glass in front of me and hand it to him. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and I’m pretty sure I like that look more than I like any other he’s ever given me.
Popping the cork on the bottle of wine, he pours the smooth red liquid into the wine glass, filling it about halfway before passing it back to me.
Bringing my lips to the rim, I take a small sip, wrinkling my nose at the fruity scent that invades my nostrils. There is a bitter tanginess left in my mouth after I swallow, and I shiver, unsure if I like it or not.
“It takes time to develop a taste for wine,” Dante simply says, stabbing a piece of vegetable with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. He eats as viciously as I suppose he kills, and that’s not the image I
