Page 52 of Tasting Sin

“That’s not true!” She threw her hands in the air, and her eyes shined with angry tears she tried to blink away. “Stu rejected my rent check today, and apparently, you spent a pretty penny on the building. How much?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. I stepped closer to her, putting my hand on her arm and following the line to her wrist. She twitched before she pulled away.

The tears she tried to blink away slipped from her eye, tracing their way down her cheeks. “It matters to me!” She was loud, and I was sure if we hadn’t soundproofed the office floors, every customer in the restaurant beneath us would hear her.

“Why?” I asked her, swiping her tears from her cheek and framing her face to force her to look at me. “Why does it matter who owns the building?”

“Because I told you I didn’t want your fucking help, but you went and did it anyways.” She huffed and then her face twisted into a scowl as she looked at me. “Why did you do it?”

“I’d pay for a hundred buildings and see you thrive before I’d even think for one second about letting you struggle.” I leaned closer to her when she gasped. “And I can afford it.”

Before I could kiss her, her eyes darted to the side, and she looked away. “Is that because you’re in the mafia?”

“What did you just say?” I froze, keeping my hands on her face but standing straight. My stare never left hers.

“I heard a customer say the bakery is owned by the mafia.” She cleared her throat lightly, and I felt the vibration against my palm. “Are you in the mafia?”

I sighed and then shrugged a single shoulder. “We don’t really call it that.”

Nellie pulled away from me like I was burning her, like my hold on her face was an electric shock. “Oh my God,” she said, taking a few scurried steps backward. She trembled, and her eyes continued to get wider when she regained her balance. “Oh my God,” she repeated.

“Sugar, listen.” I reached for her hand, and she pulled back like I was going to hurt her. I would never hurt her.

She opened the door, letting the sound in from the restaurant below. The steady hum of conversations drowned out the sound of her labored breathing, but the glare on her face was the loudest. “I can’t believe this.”

Then she was gone, and her brown curls disappeared down the stairs before I could stop her. I wasn’t going to run after her. It would cause a scene—more than it had already. She needed time, and I needed an explanation that didn’t put her in danger.

I can’t believe this.

Chapter 32

Nellie

“So do you think he’s in the mafia too?” Ava asked, nodding toward the security detail that still sat in the corner of the room. I had tried telling him to leave when I got back to the bakery from Ronan’s office, even threatening to call the police. When he laughed and asked for a refill of his coffee, I decided to let him stay. I didn’t know what he was capable of. Something told me he was capable of a lot if he was sent to protect me and he wasn’t scared of the police.

“He has to be. It’s just all so…” Before I could tell Ava for the fourth time that saying Ronan was part of the mafia felt weird, the bell above the door rang. I was jumpy. My adrenaline pumped harder through my body, forcing my hair to stand on end.

I spun around. Two men in gray suits stood in the entryway. I didn’t recognize them, but when Carlo sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes, I knew he did. My heart stopped pounding, but the pulse racing against my ears sounded even louder.

“Welcome to Sugar & Spice,” I said, already knowing when I saw them that they weren’t here to buy cupcakes. “What can we get ya?”

The first man reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a black leather bi-fold and showing me a badge. “I’m Detective Carl Ramsey,” he introduced himself before pointing to the guy next to him. “This is my partner. I need to ask you a few questions.”

“There was another detective and a couple cops here the other day asking questions. I gave them my statement.” It figured my statement hadn’t been seen by anyone else. I didn’t think they were taking it seriously, even when I was giving it. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I didn’t think the detectives would appreciate the implied sarcasm.

Detective Ramsey shook his head. “This isn’t about the vandalism.” My stomach sank, and I planted my hands against the counter in an attempt to hold myself up without looking like I’d collapse without it. “How well do you actually know your boyfriend, Ronan Moretti?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said. The room lurched, and I heard the chair Carlo sat in squeak when he scooted back. I shot a glare in his direction.

Both detectives chuckled. “That’s not what we heard.” I glared at them, not nearly as amused as the two of them seemed to be. “What do you know about him?”

“I don’t know much, but apparently, he owns this building now.” I couldn’t hide the bitterness in my voice, earning a look of interest from Detective Ramsey.

He scowled, looking at his partner before they both looked back to me. They were mirror images of each other when they tilted their heads first to the left and then to the right before they put their hands on their hips. Did they think that was supposed to be intimidating?

“That’s all you know?” the quiet partner asked, interjecting for the first time. He pulled his badge out of his pocket, as if to prove he really was also a real police officer. I didn’t look at it when he held it up for me, and he put it back in his pocket after a few seconds.

I nodded. “That’s all I know.”

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