Dark Ties (Made Men 9)

Unconsciously, Nadia took a deep breath, feeling relief wash over her almost immediately at his words.

“Plus, I promise you, no matter what clothes you wear, it’ll be tough to break your”—Dante stared at her a moment, clearly thinking of the right word, until he did—“uptight façade.”

Nadia’s mouth practically dropped to the floor. “I am so not uptight.”

“Really …?” Dante lifted his tanned fingers to the first fastened button of his shirt. “You sure about that?”

“What are you doing?” she quickly stammered out, taking a step back.

Smiling now, the mob boss finished unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his cotton white tank top that clung to his now apparent muscles underneath. Holding it out to her, his smile only grew wider. “Use this as a cover-up.”

Nadia cleared her throat, both of them knowing she had just eaten her I’m not uptight words about as fast as they had come out. “Thank you,” she said kindly, taking the shirt from his grasp.

“You’re welcome,” he said, clearing his own throat.

It was as if, just as soon as she had seen his ice-blue eyes become warmer, they turned freezing cold once more as his smile suddenly disappeared. She began to wonder what she had said or done to warrant the quick change in his demeanor.

Unfortunately, his voice went just as cold as he headed for the door, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Staring at the door that had just been slammed shut, Nadia was simply dumbfounded.

And I’m the dramatic one?

* * *

Dante’s jaw set in a fixed position as he left the room and went up the first flight of steps. He couldn’t remember the last “kind” act he had given, and the fact that he just kept doing them with a woman whom he was beginning to find attractive, more and more by the second, made a weird feeling creep in his gut. Was it … guilt?

Unfortunately, Amo and Leo had come into the inside living area. Even more unfortunate, they didn’t miss a beat.

Amo was the one to ask the obvious. “What the hell happened to your shir—”

“Shut it,” was all Dante said as he began climbing up the other steps to go put on another shirt. He knew how it looked, but he also knew it looked much worse than what had actually happened.

Right?

It was that fucking guilt that had him asking. Damn, he should have just let her stay in her room all fucking weekend. Why did I have to go make sure she was all right? It was all Amo’s fault because he had said he had heard her scream.

What was even worse was the fact that Amo’s idiotic comment had been right …

And he thought Maria was fucking dramatic.

Six

Father of the Fucking Year

Nadia had managed to find a black dress that had some length to it, thank God, and it actually covered her ass and the tops of her tall legs. The downside, however, was the top portion. The sweetheart neckline left nothing to the imagination when it came to her breasts. Thankfully, Dante’s shirt fixed that.

Taking the white button-up, she slid it on, but instead of buttoning it, she tied it around her waist, giving the dress a more casual look … while also expertly covering her goodies.

It didn’t take long for her to notice his scent. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but it smelled expensive and warm, with a touch of whiskey.

Shaking the thoughts of Dante’s smell beginning to creep into her mind, she finally left her room. She was about as comfortable and covered up as she was going to get with the clothing options she had. Uptight, pfft.

Nadia wasn’t uptight; she was just … sensible. Plus, her being uptight was rich, coming from a man who expected you to ask how high when he told you to jump.

Heading upstairs for the first time, Nadia tried not to feel self-conscious when she entered the room, but she couldn’t help it when Amo and Leo both noticed the shirt was clearly Dante’s. It appeared Amo seemed to be more amused than Leo, however, by the smirk on his face. Thankfully, Dante wasn’t in sight—

Well, shit.

Hearing someone on the steps had her head turning to see Dante gracefully descending. Oh, how she wished she didn’t find him so attractive, but he was quickly becoming her weakness.

When he simply walked by her without so much as a glance, she tried not to feel hurt. Why would she care if he looked at her, anyway?

Amo sat at the inside bar, unable to contain his smile. “Nice shir—”

Whack!

Dante smacked the back of his soldier’s head, stopping Nadia from being able to hear what he was going to say.

“Oh, and he is not twenty-one,” Dante told the male bartender, who had just poured whiskey into a crystal glass that sat in front of Amo.