Chapter 7

• Clara sat stiff as a board in the back of the shiny black car. It rolled through dark streets, twisting and turning, taking her farther into a world she didn’t know. The engagement dinner had ended hours ago, but it still sat heavy in her chest, like a rope tightening around her neck. She couldn’t shake it—the memory of that knife, the sting on her finger, the blood smearing the paper. She’d signed it. She was tied to Dante Costa now, official and real, whether she liked it or not.
• Her stomach flipped over, sour and uneasy. She snuck a quick look at him from the corner of her eye. He was right there beside her, sprawled out like he didn’t have a care in the world. One arm stretched across the back of the seat, his fingers tapping slow and lazy on the leather. He didn’t look worried or mad—not like her, with her heart pounding and her head spinning. To him, this was just another day, just some deal he’d made. She hated how calm he was. Hated him for making this feel so easy when it was tearing her apart.
• “You always this quiet, amore?” Dante said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.