Page 14 of Sinful Sacrifice

What’s worse than begging a murderous stranger to fuck you?

Him rejecting you and walking out the door.

Correction: Him having sex with you and then leaving might’ve been worse. But I’m dramatic, thank you very much.

I wait two hours, just in case Damien returns, but he doesn’t. To clear my head, I go to dinner with my mother and sister, Lanie. After that, we attend a local ballet recital. Neither helps me clear my head of him.

I don’t tell my father about Damien not taking the money or how I danced half his debt off. My cheeks warm as I think about all the ways Damien touched me.

If my father found out I have the money, he’d demand it back.

Including what I loaned him.

Then, he’d gamble it away tonight.

It’s after ten when I get home. I lock the dead bolt on the door and yawn, humming a tune from the ballet while strolling through my apartment. I stop in my tracks when my gaze hits Damien’s blazer draped over the couch. He forgot it on his rush out of here.

I glide my fingers along the expensive fabric and raise it to my nose before shamelessly drawing in a breath, inhaling his scent. My body relaxes as I shrug it on. It droops on me like a potato sack, the sleeves swallowing my arms.

Take it off, Pippa.

For all I know, there could be crime evidence on this.

A dead person’s DNA.

Here I am, dummy of the year, wearing exhibit A of a murder case.

And now, my DNA is on it.

I pat the pocket, silently telling myself I’ll only wear it for a moment.

Surely, DNA takes a few minutes to gather.

Like the five-second rule with dropped pizza rolls.

I keep the blazer on while kicking off my flats. My bare feet plod against the wood floor on my walk to the bathroom. Damien is on my mind as I shower, and I run my hands over my body, remembering how good his touch felt.

After showering, I slip on a bra and panties and tug the blazer back on. On my way to my bed, I snag my MacBook from the nightstand and climb underneath the blankets, making myself comfortable.

Then, I Google Damien, Lucky Kings Casino.

Nothing of relevance comes up.

I type Damien, Lombardi, New York.

That search brings up a few photos and news articles.

Nothing stalk-worthy.

I click on a blog post on the site, New York Mafia Girlie, that ranked men in the New York Cosa Nostra families by hotness, status, and viciousness.

Cristian Marchetti is number one.

No surprise there.

Also known as Monster Marchetti, Cristian is the cruelest mob boss in the city. Even though he’s close to my father’s age, Cristian is hot as hell. A total DILF. But his psychopathic tendencies are a bit of a turn-off for me.

Antonio and Vinny Lombardi are ranked fifth and seventh, respectively.

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