She filed that piece of information away and considered the shirts. They were plenty large enough to cover her nakedness, if not enough to make her decent, but it meant wearing Dante’s clothing.
Ah well, desperate times called for desperate measures.
She grabbed the first shirt and pulled it on, quickly buttoning it up and rolling up the sleeves. Dante wasn’t an overly large man, and she wouldn’t call him curvy by any stretch of the imagination, so the shirt stretched tight across her breasts and barely covered the lower curve of her ass. She glared down at her chest and then cursed at the way her breasts made the fabric gape. “Desperate times.” Rose undid the first few buttons. It revealed a slice of her chest, but it was still better than the alternative.
She glanced at herself in the mirror. “Well, fuck.” She looked like a woman intent on seduction, the shirt parting to give a good eyeful of cleavage and her red panties flashing in the front with every move. This couldn’t be called decent by any stretch of the imagination.
“Have a good conversation with your sister?”
She bit back a curse. She’d been so focused on whether or not she should lose the shirt that she hadn’t heard Dante approach. She should have expected this. Of course, he’d want to know how she responded to his little stunt with the phone. She still didn’t know why he’d allowed it, either.
Rose took a slow breath and turned to face him. The sight of him was a kick in the chest all over again. His features were familiar to her after months of dating, but it was like looking at a stranger wearing a mask of them. His predatory body language, the coldness in his dark eyes, even the way he wore his blond hair…all of it was unfamiliar. She should—she did—fear this man, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop the heat from flushing just beneath her skin.
Best to just push forward and ignore her body’s response to him. Of course, she would feel desire for him, even after all this. Three months ago, she’d fancied herself in love with this man—or at least a version of him. Maybe that amount of time was long enough to get over someone for most people, but all the unanswered questions had plagued Rose. She had no closure.
Plenty of closure once he’s six feet underground.
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and smiled brightly. “Yes. Just a lovely chat. She thinks I should cut off your head and give it to my groom as a wedding present.”
He didn’t respond. At least not with words. Dante was too busy drinking in the sight of her. His dark gaze flared hot as he did a slow sweep from the top of her head to her bare toes and then back up again, lingering on her legs, on where she was certain he could see her panties, on the way the shirt gaped to display the curves of her breasts, on her mouth.
He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “You look good in my shirt, Rosa.”
She might be willing to use whatever tools were available to her, but the way her thighs clenched at his low words was downright unforgivable. Rose dropped her hand, an edge creeping into her voice. “Pure coincidence. I look good in everything.”
The desire in his eyes flared hotter in response. “I know.” Dante shook his head slowly as if trying to focus. “Which sister?”
She considered ignoring the question, but ultimately, answering might prompt him to offer more information she could hopefully use to her benefit. “Lorelei.”
“Ah. The baby.”
She couldn’t even blame his knowledge on all the research he must have done into her and her family before coming to New York. Calling Lorelei the baby was something Rose did. She had talked to him about her family, though she left out any incriminating details. She looked away. “Don’t underestimate her. Don’t underestimate any of us.”
“I’m not a fool, Rosa.”
“Could have fooled me.” She glared. “You’re fucking with the Romanovs, Dante. Even if you somehow managed to take out our entirely family, Jovan would send someone from Russian to annihilate you and everyone you love.”
He snorted. “It’s a short list, so he wouldn’t have to try very hard.”
Rose’s chest gave a strange little dip, but she ignored it. Of course, her emotions were fucked up over this man. He’d duped her, and even three months later, part of her still reeled from the knowledge that she’d trusted him with things she didn’t trust other people with.
Nothing he could use against the family, of course. But smaller, more intimate secrets. Ones she didn’t share with even her sisters because she was the oldest, the heir, the one who had to be larger than life because she would lead them one day.