Page 27 of Sinful Sacrifice

Antonio stands from his chair. “Make it happen and report back.”

Julian scrubs his hand over his five-o’clock shadow while glancing at me. “Let me know if you hear anything else.”

I nod. “You know I will.”

As soon as he leaves, Antonio turns to me in agitation. “It’s not only in your best interest to ditch her but also Pippa’s.”

He’s right, and I need to consider that. She’s in danger just being involved with me.

Rivals love to kill family members to prove points.

And right now, that hits closer to home than anything.

I dip my hands into the pockets of my slacks. “If she becomes a problem, I’ll handle it.”

“If she becomes a problem, my father will handle it.”

His warning is clear. Vincent will easily kill anyone he can’t trust. He doesn’t like liabilities.

I need to make sure I can trust Pippa while also hiding who she is. Right after I kill some Popovs, of course.

We leave his office, and I head in the direction of the guest room—which is considered mine since I crash here so much and no one else is allowed in there. I hear laughter as I get closer to the kitchen.

That’s not unusual since Amara and her grandmother from her mother’s side, Clara, live here.

But it’s not only their voices drifting down the hall. There’s another. One I’ve become very familiar with the past few days.

Antonio spins on his heel and storms toward the kitchen while I follow.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he says as soon as he rounds the corner.

9

I’m standing in a mob prince’s kitchen as he glares at me.

This morning, when I woke up, I learned that falling asleep next to Damien is synonymous with waking up alone.

In need of water, I left the bedroom on a hunt for the kitchen. I found it, along with the cutest kid, Amara, and her grandmother. They stopped mid-conversation about magical ponies to stare at me in confusion.

Not that I blamed them. I am some rando, standing in the kitchen.

Unsure of what to do, I introduced myself as Damien’s friend.

Which isn’t a lie. I’m Damien’s something.

Debt dance giver? Fuck friend?

We need to talk about that.

Establish something.

After I tell them that, Amara becomes completely at ease with me, even offering for me to babysit her pet goldfish. Clara is nice, but I don’t miss the untrusting glances she makes with her every move around the kitchen. I’m waiting for her to shove a knife in her back pocket, just in case I get frisky.

But I must not give off too many crazy vibes. She didn’t scream for Antonio.

“Daddy!” Amara squeals, dancing in her stool while sitting at the island.

Antonio and Damien stand in a massive doorway wide enough to fit both their bodies. They’re dressed in black suits and both wearing humorless expressions as if it’s part of their dress code.

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