He wasn't standing right up against her, but it didn't matter. His cologne still managed to invade her senses—smooth, rich, with a faint spice that curled through her thoughts like smoke. It was infuriating how something so subtle could command her focus.
He wasn't too close. Just that his cologne infiltrated her nose and the warmth seeping from his body wasn't letting her think straight.
Dante didn't move.
"Tell me why you need to speak to Lorenzo," he said finally, voice pitched low but slicing cleanly through the hum of the ballroom. "And I'll help you."
Alisha's lips thinned. She wasn't going to tell him. She didn't want to tell him.
She wasn't sure if she could trust Dante yet. Besides, he was still his father's son, and she was married to that son. What if she told him something and he decided to use it against her? Or if he knew something about it but didn't tell her the truth later on? Could she really trust this man?
