A dangerous line to cross.
Mateo shifted his weight almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightening. Dante's eyes narrowed into slits, the muscles in his shoulders coiling like a predator ready to spring. The guards around Santiago tightened their loose formation, hands hovering near concealed weapons, their presence a silent wall of menace that made the temperature in the boutique seem to drop several degrees.
But Santiago still didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He didn't intervene.
He simply watched, dark eyes unreadable, the faintest shadow of something, amusement? approval, ghosting across his features.
And that silence made it infinitely worse.
Because now this wasn't his fight.
It was hers.
Daniella tilted her head slightly, studying the girl with a faint, almost pitying expression that only deepened the humiliation. "I think," she said slowly, each word measured and precise, "you're more upset about being ignored than losing a dress."
