[Bianca]
I wanted to hurt Dante.
Not argue. Not scream. Not cry.
I wanted Dante Wentworth to feel the same sharp, breath-stealing sting he'd left in my chest. I wanted his throat to tighten and his pulse to hammer in that cold, unbothered body of his. I wanted him to know what it felt like to watch someone he thought belonged to him be touched, wanted, claimed—right in front of his eyes.
He didn't give a rat's ass about who I kissed, right?
But I wasn't sure if I could even pull it off.
Giovanni's hand was still loosely holding my elbow, his brows knit with faint concern. He hadn't let go since I'd bumped into him in the hallway. I had barely registered his words, but his warmth—his attention. I needed it.
I swallowed, pushing back the lump in my throat, and managed a tight, "Bad ti
