The door clicked shut behind him, and I froze like a child caught red-handed. Dante’s tall frame filled the doorway, his scar catching the light in a way that made him look carved out of something harsher than stone. Those icy blue eyes swept the room once, then locked on me. I straightened, trying to look casual beside the edge of his desk, but the way his gaze pinned me made every excuse I rehearsed shrivel on my tongue.
“Did no one ever teach you,” he said, shutting the door with a soft finality, “that snooping is bad manners?”
Heat rose to my face. I opened my mouth, then shut it again, fumbling for an explanation that didn’t make me sound guilty. “I….I wasn’t snooping,” I muttered. “I was just… waiting for you to come in… you asked me to see you so I was waiting.”
His mouth curved,
