Page 48 of Powerful Deception

He pauses for a long minute, looking me up and down. Appraising me like he never really seen me before.

In a way the look reminds me of when I first walked into his office at the club.

The appraisal makes me want to shield myself, but I keep still.

“No.” Dante says after a minute.

Well, then.

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” I say to him a little too sarcastically.

At my comment, I think he is going to call me out for using a sarcastic tone with him but when he lets out a snort, I’m taken by surprise.

The smirk he wears also takes me by surprise.

“You’re a very beautiful woman, but a strip club, especially one like Perversa, is not a place for you.” He tells me, keeping my gaze. “Your beauty would run that place to the ground.”

A small gasp escapes me as I hear the last words leave his lips.

Your beauty would run that place to the ground.

That small sentence is playing over and over in my head, and I can’t think of one thing to say in response .

This man, this man that is such an enigma, a man that could kill me with a simple movement of his arm, a man that possibly killed my father, called me beautiful. And instead of running away scared, I’m standing here marveling at his words. Hoping to hear them again and again.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Eventually, I just say the first thing that comes to mind. Putting the thoughts of his words away, for now.

“Where did you get the ice cream?” My voice is a bit high pitched, which causes Dante’s smirk to get slightly deeper at my uneasiness.

“I have a stash hidden in the back of the freezer.” He says proudly, nodding towards the freezer that blends into the wall.

“Seriously?” Who hides ice cream?

“Seriously.” Dante nods.

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t hide it, then my kids will eat it and I won’t get a drop.”

Okay, who is this man and where did the hard mob boss that people call the devil, go?

“Can I have some?” I ask, liking the back and forth that’s happening between us.

Dante nods and gestures me toward the pint that he had put down on the counter. I take the invitation and walk over to where he is standing.

All of this feels weird.

For the last three weeks, all my conversations with Dante have been solely me speaking and him grunting or saying yes or no in return. I think this is the first time since he told me to move in that I’ve heard a full sentence directed at me.

And the more I experience it, the more I like it.

I really need to get my head checked.

Grabbing the pint of ice cream, moose droppings I might add, I take the spoon and place it in my mouth.

This is exactly the type of sugar I needed.