The villa had fallen into the heavy quiet of late afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the room and across Dante's smirk, which was as dangerous as ever.
Ishani struggled in his arms. He had cornered her near the massive desk, one hand bracing against the edge, the other holding her wrist lightly but firmly. Her body pressed close to his, trapped, heat radiating from him in waves that made every nerve in her body hum.
"You're insufferable," she hissed, twisting against him.
"Insufferable?" Dante's dark eyes gleamed. "I thought you were supposed to be a lawyer. Surely you know how to argue better than that."
Her pulse spiked. Challenge accepted.
"Oh, I know how to argue," she snapped, lips a breath from his, teeth bared, fire in her eyes. "You're illegally detaining me, violating every personal boundary, and you're probably breaking a dozen moral codes while thinking you're charming!"
Dante's smirk deepened. "And yet you're still here. Struggling in my arms. Talking back. Smoldering. Tell me, counselor, is that… resistance or admission?"
Her jaw tightened. "Neither! I'm preparing my case. And if this were a courtroom, I'd have you cuffed and paying damages for intimidation, assault, and—"
He leaned closer, chest pressing against hers, lips grazing her temple. "—for making you shiver?" His voice was velvet, low, intoxicating.
"I am not shivering!" she hissed, twisting again, trying to wedge herself free.
"Sure." He let a teasing brush of his thumb trail along her jaw, so deliberate that her words faltered. "Sure you aren't."
Her lawyer's mind worked faster than her body could react. "And if you think that touching me under the guise of 'calming the storm'—" she jabbed at the words, "—doesn't make you liable for emotional distress, I assure you, Dante Moretti, it does!"
Dante's dark laugh rumbled through the room, shaking her more than the words themselves. "I adore you," he murmured, "arguing law to me while I hold you like this. Your words burn… but so do you."
Her lips parted in a gasp, eyes flashing, heart hammering. "I hate you," she shot back, teeth bared, even as her body betrayed her, pressed impossibly against him.
"Not enough to stop thinking about me," he whispered, brushing her hair behind her ear, letting his breath ghost over her cheek.
She pushed at him again, claws metaphorically and physically, letting words fly as if laying out a full legal brief against him. "You can't intimidate me. You can't own me. I will never be yours!"
Dante pressed closer, tilting his face toward hers, brushing his lips near her mouth in a teasing, excruciating almost-touch. "Oh, but I already own your thoughts. And every argument, every defiance, only makes me want to claim more."
She shoved him one last time, nails scraping his chest. "You can't threaten me with your obsession. I have contracts, laws, ethics…"
"And I have patience, persistence, and a very particular set of skills," he murmured, lips brushing the corner of her mouth. "Skills you'll find very inconvenient."
Her body trembled in his hold, but her words stayed sharp, biting, defiant. Even trapped, even pressed to the edge of surrender, her lawyer's mind made her dangerous.
And Dante loved it.