Page 112 of Sin & Sapphire

Because she didn’t have one anymore.

Ana tensed, and then, to my surprise, relaxed, tucking herself tightly against my body. “Call Angelo if you need me.”

Sofia’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Dante did the same to her as I did to Ana, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He met my eye with a wry smile. “Take care of our girl.”

“Mygirl,” I snapped, no longer able to contain myself.

“Your girl,” he conceded.

Sofia’s expression was less sanguine, but she didn’t push back. “Is that true Ana?”

The silence stretched long, and the possibility of violence ratcheted higher and higher the longer we waited.

“Yeah, it’s true.”

Valentin joined us for lunch,sliding into the booth beside Ana. She looked up at him expectantly, and he grinned before crushing his lips down onto hers, devouring her, sliding his arm around her back to press her closer. She dragged her fingers along his scalp, then pressed them into his neck, digging into the skin as she arched her back, as if she could meld herself into his body, if only she tried hard enough.

By the time he released her, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen and bruised, and I couldn’t hide my grin.

Valentin lifted my hand and pressed his lips against the back of it.

“Salut,” he murmured. Hello.

“You, uh, have blood on the cuffs of your shirt,” Ana murmured.

“Merde.”

“Just take your jacket off and roll the sleeves up,” she instructed, as if she’d had a lifetime of experience managing men who were rude enough to bring violence to the table. I supposed she had.

Valentin quickly complied, and both my gaze and Ana’s turned to his corded forearms.

He smirked, the fucker, and clenched his fingers.

Ana burst into laughter, and he looked down at her with delighted surprise.

Good. I wasn’t the only one affected by her joyous outbursts, not the only one who wanted more of them.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

Ana scoffed.

I liked this version of her, confident, competent, and utterlymine.

She recounted our run-in with the Russo clan in the boutique, leaving out Chloe’s insults, and my threats on Chloe’s life.

“You’ve publicly allied yourself with us,” Valentin said softly, his Ivorian accent stronger than usual.

“I’m a Costa,” Ana said. “And so are you. And I hate what you’re requiring me to do to stay a Costa, but I can’t—” She stopped and tapped a finger on the table. “My father employed hundreds of people, supported their families, kept them safe from the rapacious greed of the other families. And they deserve better than to be trampled because you assholes don’t know what you’re doing.”

She cast her eyes down when she finished speaking, as if she were worried about how we’d react, like she was uncertain of the rules in this public place.

Valentin met my eyes, and we had a long silent conversation. He liked this version of Ana too, but he also liked her on her knees, crying, and begging him to hurt her again. And there was no place in our odd little family for a woman who couldn’t meet our needs—or whose needs we couldn’t meet ourselves.

“Are you done shopping, Ana?” he asked her, deceptively casual in his delivery.

She frowned. “More or less. I still need a purse, shoes, and jewelry.” She twisted her lips. “And an appointment with an aesthetician for personal grooming.”

Valentin’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “No need,” he murmured. “We like your pussy exactly the way it is.”

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