Dora got into the car right beside Dante even as she mentally prepared herself for whatever she was going to have to deal with. The car moved quickly, the hum of the engine steady, and since it was morning, the weather looked clear and calm. But Isadora found it hard to focus on anything except the sharp awareness that Dante was seated right beside her.
The memory of the night they had almost shared flickered through her mind, heat rising in her cheeks as she balled her fists on her lap and stared out the window, seeing nothing. Dante was extremely good-looking—too much so—and his hair, a pale shade of white, gave him an exotic, striking appearance that always caught her off guard.
