I took another step back, licking my suddenly dry lips. Dante’s gaze darkened as he watched the flick of my tongue and focused on my mouth. Something clenched between my legs, and my face burned with an embarrassed flush. His intense attention made me squirm, and judging by the perverse pleasure that illuminated his sharp features, he was enjoying my apprehension.

I lifted my chin and met his taunting gaze head-on. All my life, my will had been crushed by brutal men, any signs of defiance quickly obliterated by a harsh slap or thundering shout. But no matter how many times I had to swallow my pride and bend, I kept my righteous rage stoked deep inside my chest.

Dante wasn’t one of my father’s men. He had no right to punish me. And I didn’t have to stand in his imposing shadow, shrinking beneath his cocky, self-assured stare.

His smile sharpened to something almost feral, and he grasped my hand with thick fingers, drawing my arm through his with a gentle but unbreakable grip. Sparks tingled where our skin touched, his rough callouses rasping over my softer palm. He rested my hand on his forearm, and I felt the raw power of his corded muscles even through his perfectly tailored suit.

Something tugged at the pit of my stomach, as though pulling me closer to his heat, his intoxicating scent.

I swallowed hard. “I have to go.” I hated the way my voice wavered, and I didn’t pull away from his allure.

I had to go meet my father in his study, or I would definitely be punished for my tardiness. No matter how fascinating I found this unnerving connection to Dante, it was dangerous. In so many ways. If Father saw me touching him…

I tried to yank my hand free, but his fingers firmed around mine, gluing my palm to his arm. He started walking with sure, confident strides, as though he was escorting me to a ball.

“We’re going to the same place,” he informed me, his voice still lilting with amusement. He liked that he was making me hot and flustered.

Defiant anger spiked, cracking my usual composure. I jerked away from him. “Let me go!”

I stumbled as he abruptly released me. His mocking chuckle rolled over my skin, making my flesh pebble and dance as though at a physical touch.

My cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment, and I quickly righted myself. I walked stiffly toward my father’s study, my low, sensible heels clicking across the marble foyer. Dante kept step beside me, half an inch too close for polite company. I could still smell his heady cologne, and his body heat caressed my side. His dark pleasure and masculine power pulsed over me, and I suppressed the tremor that teased along my bones.

I wouldn’t show further weakness. And I wouldn’t let him touch me again. Not when I knew he wouldn’t be the one to suffer the consequences; Father would have a fit if he knew I’d allowed a man to touch me.