ANTE'

died Emilio for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between them and his finge

ger man's jaw, the way his fingers cu

hair, studying Emilio with

It was just the truth. His suit fit him perfectly, showing off his

his world. His features were too refined, his dark eyes too full o

t slightly perfect, felt out of place here, in the

e's gaze was all over him

the way his fitted black shirt hugged his lean frame. He

io held himself with quiet confidence,

a's father once. A har

learning to control it with his mind. And now this-this

ante mused, tilting his head slightly. Emilio's dark eyes flashed. "Someone like me?" Dante s

t his life-fighting in the streets. "Yo

er is dead. And I'm not him. Dante chuckled. "Clearly." Si

e table. He didn't doubt that Emilio had earned his

ike Dante. Hardened. Worn. Emilio... he was something else. Apologiz

let the words settle, watching how they hit Emilio, watching how his throa

ng, but Dante saw it fo

this moment stretched between them like a

wn. And yet, he found himself enjoying it. A

Not fear, Emilio wasn't afraid. If anything, he wa

ow the insult for the

o push? To press harder just to see how much resistance he could take before he fin

young man had done. The room was silent, s

avy at their hips, ready to spill

them. Two of them opposite sides

all it takes." Emilio exhaled slowly, his gaze

n and offer some shallow, meaningless apol

k falter just slightly. "I don't believe in apologies that mean nothing.

ng darker. He should have been angry. He should have seen this as an insul

intriguing. The tension between th

ther was willing to cross. Dante could see it now-Emilio would never

. His mood filled with anger and he felt insulted

beside him, took a slow sip, and th

its way into his mind. "Then a duel between us as our men watch might solv

hing with the mindset that he wouldn't do anything to t

ightly, skepticism moving

h knives and in a ring." He let the pause linger

inked, clearly thrown

asy. Men draw their weapons, and the outcome is always the same someone bleeds, someone wins. Predi

watching him, worr

tween them. "You want to play the game without going down

his fingers tighten

expression. The refusal that wanted to

est. Yes. He had him now. And soon, Emilio w