Page 138 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“Oh my god,” she says. “You’re not from this world, are you?”

She leans forward, elbows on the table, her focus narrowing.

“If you mean rich people and whatever this is,” I say, motioning around us, “then no. I grew up in a three-bedroom, one-bath house in Auburn Heights. I teach high school English. Michael’s house almost took me out the first time I saw it.”

“Have you stayed there?” she asks, clearly interested now.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s insane. His closet could fit like half my house.”

She leans back, arms crossed, watching me.

“Wow. You’ve cracked Michael Amato’s shell, and you don’t even realize it.”

I blink at her. “What are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t bring women into his room. We were engaged for six months, and I never stepped foot inside it.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I say.

“Don’t be,” she says. “What Michael and I had wasn’t real. I know that now. He should be with someone who makes him happy.” She pauses and adds, “And I’m not going to settle for less than that either.”

“You shouldn’t,” I say. “You seem pretty badass.”

She smiles, and I glance around the room.

“You know, there are some pretty hot guys in here.”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “No, thank you. I’ve known most of these men my whole life. None of them are worth my time.”

“Damn. I love that for you.”

She laughs again, and it feels easy between us. This is not how I expected to make a friend tonight.

Chapter 48

Michael

Ireenter the ballroom and glance at our table. Katie isn’t in her seat while the rest of them carry on. My attention shifts, scanning the room until it lands in the corner, where she’s sitting at a small table, laughing. Rosalia sits beside her. I leave her alone for fifteen minutes, and she ends up with the one person who shouldn’t be anywhere near her.

I take a breath and cross the room. Rosalia sees me first, her posture tightening. Katie turns a second later, smiling.

“Hi,” she says. “Look who I met.”

“I see that.”

“Michael,” Rosalia says.

“Rosalia.” I nod once, then look at Katie and reach for her hand.

She hesitates. “But we were talking about this author we both really like.”

I don’t respond. I just wait.

Rosalia stands. “We’ll talk later.”

“Okay,” Katie says. “I’ll call you.”