Page 19 of SINS & Temptation

I flip through a few more, especially the pics with filters—dog ears and rainbow vomit, oversized glasses and flower crowns. Their eyes sparkle with playfulness, each photo a shot of sunshine and happiness. And innocence.

The only anchor truly dragging me back is the menacing shadow of Andre D’Angelo. If Enzo forces me to return and I run, I know what will happen. Andre will strike like a shark, tearing Riley from her life without mercy.

I’d rather die than go back to Andre or Rocco. But if anything happened to Riley, I’d never forgive myself. I promised Da I’d look after her, and I damn well will.

If Andre D’Angelo is hellbent on doing his worst to one of us, then it’s decided.

It’s me.

What happens to me doesn’t matter. Keeping Riley safe is the only thing that counts.

“Is it because of your boyfriend?” she asks out of the blue.

My steps freeze. “What boyfriend?”

“That one there.” She points at the screen, indicating the single picture someone managed to snap of Enzo. It’s from before we left, when the girls were driving him nuts, surrounding him like he’d just sprouted a horn and turned into a glittery unicorn.

I can’t help but laugh, the memory momentarily lifting the weight off my shoulders.

Then, I notice Riley, her brow arched, definitely your boyfriend written all over her face as if she’s hit the nail on the head, dead center.

I finish off my cone. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But he’s the reason you’re here in Italy, isn’t he? And the reason you have to go back?”

Wow. Riles is seriously batting a thousand here. “No,” I say, gripping the half-truth like a vine in quicksand. Yes, I’m here because of him, but that doesn’t make him my boyfriend.

Let’s forget for a moment that he’s a ruthless mob boss and a world-renowned player. The man only wants me for a week. That alone doesn’t exactly scream boyfriend material.

She plants herself in front of me, stern-faced, pointing her cone right at my face. “Why. Can’t. You. Stay?”

A wave of sorrow crashes over me as I remember a much younger version of myself asking Da the exact same question on the last night I saw him alive.

Did he know what might happen to him, the way I do now?

Channeling our sweet Da’s words, I simply say, “Because I can’t.”

“Booo.” She frowns, eyes narrowing as she angrily chomps down the last of her cone. Then, her brows shoot up. “Isn’t that him?”

I spin around and there he is. Stubble grown out, wavy hair disheveled, and a suit that’s seen better days. Even from across the street, he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week—a complete walking disaster.

And yet, he’s utterly gorgeous.

We watch as he slips on his sunglasses, glances at his watch, and scans the area. When his gaze shifts in our direction, Riles and I instinctively turn around.

“It is him, isn’t it?” she whispers.

“No,” I lie.

“Then why are we hiding?”

“We’re not hiding,” I say, feeling the sharp yank of the leash. Of course, Truffles wants to dart into open traffic to play with his pal Enzo.

Truffles whimpers and hops, desperate to give us away. “Not now, little traitor,” I mutter under my breath, quickly whisking him up into my arms to hide him, too.

Slowly, Riley turns around to check him out some more. “He’s cute.”

Only Riley would refer to a living, breathing god as cute. “If you say so,” I reply, silently praying he doesn’t see us.

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