Chapter 16- Campaign Trail
Lucia “Stand closer to your fiancé, Miss Valentini,” the photographer called out “Remember, you’re in love!”
If only he knew how complicated that word had become.
Dante’s hand settled on my lower back, familiar heat seeping through the silk of my designer dress. We stood in the grand ballroom of the City Plaza, surrounded by campaign donors and society’s elite, playing our parts to perfection. Hn touch burned like a brand through the fabric, a reminder of last night’s confrontation at the gallery.
We hadn’t spoken since. The silence between us had streiched thick and dangerous, filled with unspoken accusations and unwanted desire.
“Smile, cara,” he murmured against my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. “Your tension is showing”
“I learned from the beat,” I whispered hack through my perfect socery smile. “Isn’t that what you Romano men do? Hide everything behind careful ___facades!”
His fingers tightened slightly on my hip. “Careful.” he warned softly. “The Times reporter is watching
“Let her watch “I tuned in his arms, playing the devoted fance while fury simmered beneath my skin. “Im getting quite good at pretending, don’t you think! Almost as good as you are at having me followed”
His jaw ticked – that tell that meant he was controlling his temper. “We’re not discussing this here.”
“Of course not. Heaven forbid anything disrupt your perfect campaign narrative. I pressed closer, making it look like an intimate moment while my muils dug into his shoulder. Tell me, did you have men following me before last night? Ce did my little gallery visit trigger your controlling instincts”
“What I do is protect what’s mine.” His voice dropped in that dangerous register that mude heat pool in my belly despite my anger. “Something you
cem determined to make as difficult as possible”
“Im not yours.” But even I heard the lie in my voice.
His hand slid lower, proprietary and possessive in a way that would look manic to observers but felt like a claim. The marks I left on your skin say differently, cara.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I remembered those marks, still visible beneath my carefully chosen dress. “Territorial bastard.
He smiled, that predatory curve of lips that meant trouble. “Would you like me to prove just how territorial I can be?”
Before I could respond, his month expoured mine in a kiss that was pure possession. His tongue traced the seam of my lips until I opened for him with a small sound that was definitely not professional. His hand sangled in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss while cameras flashed
round
When he pulled back, my lips tingled and my heart raced. “Better,” he murmured, satisfaction clear in his voice. “Now you look properly kissed for the camerat
“Thate you.” Threathed, but my body betrayed me by swaying toward his
“No,” he said softly, dangerously. You hate that you want me despite everything. That’s what really remifles you, isn’t it?”
“Mr. Romano!” A sharp voice cur through our tension. “A moment of your time!”
Miranda Chen approached, her reporter’s smile sharp as a blade. Of course she’d be here. The woman had an unerring instinct for drama. “Miranda” Dante’s public mask shul perfectly into place. Lovely to see you.”
“Such a romantic display,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “Almost makes one forget about certain aristic revelations this week. Telline, Miss Valentin any comment on Mark Sullivan’s Imest exhibition! The piece titled “My Lova‘ is causing quite a stir.”
I felt Dante’s body tense against mine, but his voice remained perfectly pleasant. “My fiancee’s past friendshops are hardly newsworthy, Miranda Surely you love more interesting questions about our infrastructure plans for the city?”
“Friendships?” Miranda’s simile turned feral. “Is that what we’re calling it? Because sources
“Sources say a lot of things.” I cut in smoothly, channeling every lesson in poise I’d ever learned. “But what they’re not saying is how my fiance has already pledged substantial support to the arts community, including several new galleries in the downtown district, Isn’t that more interesting than ancient history”
“Is it ancient history?” She pressed. “Because Mr. Sullivan was quite voral at his opening about unfinished business
“The
only
unfinished business,” Dante interrupted, his voice carrying that edge of thority that made lesser men tremble, “is our plans for revitalizing the harbor district. Would you like those exchisive decads now, Miranda! Or should we give them to the Tribune instead?”
Her eyes nurrowed, but we all knew who held the real power here. The · harbor plans would be… fascouting.”
“Wonderful.” He gestured to his campaign manager. “James will give you all the documentation. If you’ll excuse us
His hand returned to my lower back, steering me smoothly away from the reporter’s sharp gaze. But instead of stopping at another group of donors, he guided me towed a discrete side door.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he led me down an empty hallway,
“We need to talk.” His voice had dropped that public pleasamness, replaced by something darker, “Privately.
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Chapter 16–Campaign Trail
He opened a door- some kind of executive office- and pulled me inside. Before I could protest, his mouth was on mine again, but this kiss held none of the calculated performance of before. This was raw, demanding, almost angry.
I should have pushed him away. Should have maintained that professional distance we’d agreed on. Instead, I found myself kissing him back with equal fury, my fingers tangling in his perfectly styled hair as he pressed me against the office door.
“You’re mine,” he growled against my lips, his hands sliding up my thighs beneath my dress. “Contract or not. Business or not. Mine.”
“Possessive… I gasped as his teeth found my neck. “Controlling–impossible man..
“And yet you defend mr.” His Lingers found bare skin, making me arch against him. “To reponers. To artists. To everyone. Why as than, ca
Because I’m falling for you. Bermuse you terrify me and thrill me and make me feel more alive than Ive ever been. Because somewhere between the contract and the chaos, this stopped being just business.
But I couldn’t say any of that
Instead, I pulled him back to
mouth, pouring all my confusion and want and anger into the kiss. He responded instantly, lifting me against the
door as my legs wrapped around his waist.
“We can’t,” I managed between kisses. The event…
..reporter…
Let them wait “His hand slid higher, finding lace and heat. “I need to remind you who you belong to.”
I don’t belong to My protest ended in a moan as his fingers worked imagic against silk
“No?” He smiled against my throat, that dangerous smile that meant trouble. “Then why are you so wet for me, resor? Why do you respond to my touch like you were made for it?”
“Bastard,” I graped, but my body betrayed me, pressing into his touch.
A knock at the door made us both freeze
“Mr. Romano?” His campaign manager’s voice. The press is asking for you. The infrastructure announcement..*
Dance’s forehead pressed against mine as we both tried to catch our breath “One moment,” he called out, his voice remarkably steady-
Lunwound my legs from his waist, letting hum se me back on shaky feet. We stared at each other in the dim office light both disheveled and breathing hard.
“This isn’t over.” he said softly, rusing a thumb over my swollen lips.
“It never is with you.” I straightened my dress, trying to slow my racing heart.
He smiled, that predatory care that promised trouble. “Remember that the next time you think about sneaking off to an alleries, cara
“Territorial bastard.“
“Your territorial bastard. He straightened his tie with practiced ease. “At least for the next twenty–two mon
