Page 37 of SINS & Temptation

“I don’t know,” I admit, uncertainty gnawing at my gut.

“Our father would want you to follow your heart.”

“And look where it got him,” I scowl bitterly.

The familiar ache of unresolved grief tightens my chest. If he were dead, at least we would know. But he’s been missing for years, vanished without a trace.

It’s like being trapped in a relentless torture chamber. Just when the wounds begin to scab over, the mere mention of him rips them open again, another raw lash of the whip.

Dante blows out a long, slow breath. “This doesn’t feel right. You have feelings for her. I know you do.”

“And if those feelings end up getting her hurt? Or killed? Does that feel right?” I slump against my seat. “That I’m seeing anyone at all stays between us. Agreed?”

He knows I’m right. With a resigned nod, he concedes. “Fine. It stays between us.” He air quotes, “You’re not seeing anyone.” Then, with an annoyed shake of his head, he adds, “It still sucks big hairy donkey nuts.”

I manage a weak smile. “What you do in your spare time is your business.”

We stare off, watching as Sofia carefully stitches up Bruno under his guidance, while Lili has found the first aid kit and is wrapping his opposite ankle like a mummy. It’s almost surreal, seeing this enormous hulk of a man so gentle and patient.

Bruno catches us watching and mouths, “Keeping them busy.” Then, he points to Lili with a soft smile. “You missed the heel,” he instructs tender.

“Did you get a hold of Father Marc?” I ask, knowing our friendly neighborhood priest will be able to find safe haven for these girls.

“About that,” Dante grimaces. “There’s a little speed bump with him taking the girls.”

“For the six-figure donations I hand him, there shouldn’t be as much as a hiccup.”

“Nevertheless, he needs to speak with you.”

Of course, he does. Because it’s not enough that I give him truckloads of cash, he now demands my attention too.

I glance over at the girls, both seemingly content to turn Bruno into a zombie. At the rate they’re going, they could probably keep bandaging him for another half hour.

Hmm. Whatever conversation I have with Father Marc needs to be private. But if I leave, I’m certain all hell will break loose with these two girls in less than sixty seconds.

And I can’t risk them getting riled up.

I grab my cell and call, keeping it off speaker and trying to maintain a steady voice. It rings twice. Father Marc sounds frazzled from the moment he answers. “I can’t do it.”

“You. Have. To.” My voice is tight, the coil of a king cobra as I smile and wave at the girls.

“You don’t understand. Dante tells me they’ve become attached to you.”

“So?”

“As horrified as I am to admit this, they need to stay with you, Enzo.”

“What?”

My voice cuts through the room, louder than intended. Every eye swivels to me, suspicion brewing.

I force a broad smile and lower my tone.

“Hang on”—I press the phone to my chest—“I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

A furrow of worry crosses both their brows. A second later, they’re both front and center in front of me.

“I’ll be back,” I promise.

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