AYLA
I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side.
"Welcome to my world then," I said flatly.
I stood up, smoothed my dress, shoulders pushed back, chin up.
Our eyes clashed.
Dante raised a brow. "Sit."
I didn't look away. I didn't sit.
"No," I said.
No apologies. No permission. I didn't need either of them.
My finger trailed a line on the table napkin while I stared at him, eyes half-lidded with boredom and dislike.
"I think we need a re-introduction, Dante."
He scoffed and leaned back. "Don't think you're untouchable."
I gave a practiced smile. "Is that a threat? If it is, I'd rather you save it for someone else, Dante, because it smells like fear."
Dante's amusement faded into a deathly quiet that even the guard behind him noticed.
The guard behind stepped forward—broad shoulders, jaw clenched, hard lines framing a face that looked nothing short of criminal.
The movement was quick.
He pulled a revolver from his waistband and pointed it at the side of my head.
