Annabelle’s heart thumped loudly as Dante emerged into the bright morning light, his dark, slightly damp hair still tousled from his earlier shower.

He moved with his usual confidence, his black trousers clinging to his muscular frame, and his crisp white shirt rolled at the sleeves revealing the sinewy strength of his forearms.

His intense gaze locked onto hers, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“You know you’ll pay for that, right?” His tone was low and threatening.

Yet it was laced with unmistakable mischief.

Annabelle folded her arms across her chest, masking her nervousness.

She guessed he wouldn’t want his men to know that he had been...