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But right now it was clear that he would always have the upper hand. She would never, ever be the one to get a superior reaction out of him. He would always be the one to create havoc in her.
Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? Her chasing after him. He was affecting her. She had always imagined herself leading the charge in those interactions. But it wasn’t true.
It was him. It always had been.
Even in this, even in her scheme, he had somehow managed to take charge.
It was demoralizing. Dispiriting.
In front of all these people, downright humiliating.
She felt red and sore and exposed somehow, and she couldn’t pinpoint why.
“Smile,” he whispered, bending down, his lips nearly touching her ear, a shiver winding down her spine.
And so she did.
She had to remember that this was for Isabella. It wasn’t for her.
And her own discomfort had nothing to do with it.
For Isabella, she could do this. For Isabella she could do anything.
It wouldn’t be forever.
She stared at his patrician profile. No. Whatever he said it would not be forever.
Dante Fiori might be used to running a business. He might be used to commanding women, manipulating them with his good looks and power. And maybe in the past he had had an effect on her behavior, as well.
But she knew now. Was unbearably conscious of it.
Minerva King might be the least famous of her family. The least successful. And the least powerful.
But she was also stronger than anyone knew.
And in the end, that strength was going to carry her through.
