Page 38 of The Wages of Sin

Indeed, it was. But the less said about that, the better. I quickly changed the subject.

“I’ve got another favor to ask,” I said, walking over to pick up Kiera’s laundry.

“Anything.”

“I need a few clothes delivered.”

“I thought you always went to that tailor over on Lexington,” Gabriel said.

“It’s not for me. They’re for a lady.”

“A lady?” Gabriel’s laugh sounded astonished. “I am talking to my brother Dorian, right? The guy who’s never spent more than an hour with the same woman.”

I swallowed down a growl at his teasing. “I can always call Matteo and ask for his help instead if you want to be an ass.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Gabriel insisted. “We both know I have better taste when it comes to women than Matteo.”

That was debatable. “Can you help me out or not?”

“Of course I can,” he answered. “What kind of clothes are you talking about.”

“The basics,” I said. “A nice selection of dresses. Pants. Shirts. Shoes. All the underthings.”

“That’s not ‘a few clothes.’ That’s a whole damn wardrobe? Who is this chick?”

“Don’t call her a chick.”

“Sorry,” Gabriel said, quickly dropping the teasing tone. “Whoever this lady is, she must be someone special.”

“She is,” I said, looking at the closed bathroom door. “I’d pick things out myself, but I’ve never had to shop for a woman. I’m worried I’d mess it up.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a private shopper over in SoHo who does this kind of thing for me all the time. Just text the lady’s sizes and coloring, and the shopper will do the rest.”

“Thank you, brother,” I said.

“No problem.” He paused for a second before adding, “Just out of curiosity though, this lady and that thing of yours that Carlo Costa messed with, they wouldn’t happen to be one and the same, would they?”

I let my silence answer for me.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “That poor, poor son-of-a-bitch.”

“Goodbye, Gabriel.”

Once I ended the call, I quickly went through the tags in Kiera’s clothes and texted Gabriel the sizes. Then I tossed them all in the trash. Worn and tattered clothes weren’t good enough for her. She deserved only the best.

Turning around, I looked over at the bathroom door.

I could hear the water still running. She was clearly taking her time in there, enjoying the experience. Or maybe…

Maybe she was waiting for company.

I tossed the phone on the bed, then kicked off my shoes, pulling my shirt over my head as I walked to the door.

If she wanted privacy, she would have locked the door.

I tested the knob, and the hinges effortlessly swung open. A wave of steam rolled through the crack.

And I peeled off the rest of my clothes before stepping inside.

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