One of his associates leaned in, handing him another drink with a careless grin. "Come on, Dante. She's just a courier. If you want a woman, it's not that hard."
"Liliana turned you down?" another chimed in, scoffing. "Big deal. There are a dozen women dying to throw themselves at you."
Someone in the corner snickered, their voice low but clear enough to carry. "Like Adriana."
Laughter erupted, loud and unrestrained, filling the room.
So this was it. This was why he was here, drowning himself in alcohol. Not because of anything that had to do with me, not because of the life we shared, but because Liliana had turned him down.
My hand froze on the doorknob. For a long moment, I just stood there, my jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. The sound of their laughter echoed in my ears, but eventually, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The shift was immediate. The room fell silent as if someone had cut the sound entirely.
One of his associates looked up, startled, before quickly forcing a smile. "Well, look who's here. Mrs. Falcone."
I didn't even spare him a glance. My eyes went straight to Dante. "I'm here to take you home."