Page 97 of SINS & Temptation

In my periphery, her lean legs and come-fuck-me stilettos step closer, and my dick throbs with approval and need.

Not you again. You’re the dumbass that got us into this mess.

The problem is, she’s not alone. My brothers are here. Dante sidles up beside her, and Dillon has the audacity to lead her in by the hand. Does he think I don’t notice his other hand is on the small of her back?

I see you, fucker.

I suspect Mateo is lurking about somewhere. And Smoke, no doubt, is with him.

At least Trinity is smart enough not to enter this war zone. And make no mistake. This is a war.

It’s her scent that hits me first. Those tender notes of floral and citrus and...her.

“Can we talk?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and her perfume wafts around me so tightly it strangles my senses.

God, I want to say yes.

Every fiber of my soulless being demands I say yes.

But my mind locks on the thought of her again—of her begging Uncle Andre for mercy. Dorian overheard every word, and if he hadn’t delivered the invitation when he did, who knows what would have happened.

She’s a Mullvain. Ready and willing to do anything for me and I know I have to let her go.

All thoughts of us—a future—snap apart like a leg in a trap. Except it isn’t a leg. It’s my heart.

I do what I do best. What I’m known for. I crush all her precious hopes away. “Unless you’re here in a reverse harem situation with my brothers, you’re wasting your time.”

“As long as we have your permission.” Dante smirks, patting me once on the back.

I take a needed breath and refrain from snapping his fingers in half.

Concentrating, my jaw clamps down tight enough to break a tooth. I toss back the rest of my scotch and motion for more. I study the cards in my hand and remind myself that the banker has a jet I’ve been eying.

The tech geek tugs at his collar. “Do you take bitcoin?”

I roll my eyes. For fuck’s sake. Annoyed, I turn to the Belgian host of our room. I translate the request. “Acceptez-vous les crypto-monnaies?”

He shakes his head. “Non.”

I repeat. “No.” Moron.

The tech geek’s wife-to-be stands behind him in a white slip of a dress that accentuates her massive breasts and a diamond choker around her slim neck.

Hmm. If he offers her up, I don’t care what the Belgian says. I’m saying yes. She’d look absolutely ravishing on all fours, wearing nothing but that necklace with my dick down her throat.

While the rest of them watch, of course.

Especially her.

My wife.

Her red dress is now flanked by my brothers, and it feels like sharpened fingernails against the inside of my chest.

Yes. Another woman is what I need. Preferably, a few of them at once. That would teach the one and only Mrs. Enzo D’Angelo not to fuck with me. Dangling a skimpy red dress in front of an outraged bull...She gets what she gets.

God, stop thinking of her.

The dealer deals me another card, and it looks like I’ve just been dealt my winning hand. A smile tugs at my lips. I toss out another pile of chips. “Raise.”

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