Page 80 of Sinful

Kill Delilah Beyers, the former mistress of Matteo De Santis. Kill her children. Kill the heir.

I was a child, still learning the ropes, but I’d seen the dark sparkle in my father’s eye that night. He saw their mistake in requesting his help, so he jumped on it.

“You want the family dead?” Father asked, surveying Sergio Ivanov and his men on the docks, the moon hanging over our heads.

“Yes. Take out the heirs. My son will handle his remaining heir at Bolten.” Sergio eyed my father.

Father looked to one of Ivanov’s men situated behind and next to him and smiled before dragging his attention back to Ivanov. I noted he focused on two in particular in the background.

“What of payment?”

“Two million dollars. Half now. Half when the job is done.”

Father nodded and was quiet for a moment. “Have you met my heir? Dante?”

Ivanov focused on me, a muscle along his jaw thrumming.

“I’ve only heard. . . things.”

“All good, I’m sure,” Father said with a soft, wicked laugh.

“Of course. He is. . . remarkable.”

“Indeed. I thought tonight would be a good night to demonstrate his skills.”

Ivanov shifted uncomfortably, his men taking steadier stances.

“How so?” he asked.

“I’m not happy with the payment. I’d like to negotiate.”

“Oh?” Ivanov cast a glance at me. I hadn’t moved an inch. I wanted to go home and hang out with Stitches. He was alone. He didn’t like to be alone.

“More money?” Ivanov gave a wobbly smile.

“No. Money isn’t an issue. What I require is. . . dinner.”

“Dinner?” Ivanov blanched, clearly understanding where the conversation was leading. “Surely, we can arrange a nice restaurant—”

“I prefer to have my chefs do my cooking.”

“I see.” Ivanov visibly swallowed. “What is it that you’d like?”

“Well, it seems as if you need this Beyers woman dealt with in order to move pieces on your board so you can come into power after assassinating Matteo De Santis. With his older brother. . . gone. . . and Carmine out of the game, you stand to win it all. I’d say two million isn’t really up to snuff for me.” Father smiled. “And if you go elsewhere now that I know your plan, you risk me telling De Santis. We both know you’ll be unlikely to kill me tonight, and it would be impossible once I walk away. So. Dinner. I require sacrifice.”

Ivanov studied my father for a long, tense moment.

“Who?” Ivanov finally asked.

A tiny smirk cut my father’s lips upward before he nodded his head to the quiet man standing behind Ivanov and the one next to him who looked scared.

“I want that one and the one beside him.”

Ivanov looked over his shoulder to the tall man, his face visibly paling.

“I cannot give you him—”

“Then we don’t have a deal.” Father inclined his head at Ivanov. “Come, Dante, perhaps some ice cream would hit the spot—”

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