Page 135 of Sin & Sapphire

“I’d like to be able to make myself dinner,” she said, her eyes downcast, as if with shame.

Valentin hummed. “Tomorrow, after the funeral, I’ll teach you a way to season and cook chicken, and we’ll practice pasta again.”

Ana looked up from her plate, her lips turned up into a soft smile. Was this all it took? Basic human kindness? I wanted Ana on her knees before me, but I also wanted her to demand more. She’d said we needed to change the rules, and she was right. She deserved better.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling as she dug into her dinner.

I wondered if this was the route we should have taken from the beginning. Ana on her knees, crying because we forced her there, was beautiful. But Ana full of sweetness and affection? Breathtaking.

We kept the conversation light for the rest of the meal, talking about people we knew, books we’d read, favorite restaurants. Russo’s conversational skills shouldn’t have surprised me—he was raised in the same world as Ana and me. Charm was one of many weapons in our arsenal.

When we finished our plates, Ana leapt up to clear the table, only for Russo to put a hand on her knee. “You cooked, I’ll clean,” he murmured. “And get out dessert.”

She blinked once, twice, then dropped back into her chair as if dazed. “Slut,” I said quietly. When I was sure I had her attention, I continued. “I don’t want a housekeeper, I want my own personal fucktoy. You don’t have to cook another day in your life if you don’t want to. And you sure as fuck don’t have to wash dishes.”

Those gorgeous green eyes focused on me, and her lips parted in a soft, “oh,” and I ached to bend her over right there and slam into that perfect, hot cunt.

But I wouldn’t ruin this dinner for her. No matter how delicious the thought might be.

Valentin pushed back from the table. “I’m going to help Luca,” he murmured, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Come here, slut,” I said, scooting back.

Ana twisted her lips in wry amusement and stood, smoothing her dress with her hands. When she was close enough, I dragged her onto my lap, inhaling her scent—she’d used my shower wash, and it smelled so fucking good on her.

“I’m proud of you, angel,” I whispered. “You’ve done so well tonight.”

“Thank you, daddy,” she said, running a hand up my chest, resting it on my heart. She kissed my jaw, softly, gently, and I yearned for more.

I wanted her towantthe humiliation I dished out.

I wanted her towantto kneel before me.

I wanted her towantto be my slave.

And I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t know how to achieve that, how to seduce the brilliant, bratty woman we’d stolen from her enemies. How to get her to look at me with affection all the time, and not contempt, not fear. To look at me like she did Luca.

Merda.

49

LUCA

Perfect obedience.I turned the words over and over in my head, thinking about the interaction in my office that morning, when Ana had begged Angelo for permission to fuck me. She sat on his lap now, her fingers combing through his hair, looking at him like he was her entire fucking world.

Jealousy arced through my veins, poisonous and ugly as I took the cannoli out of the pastry box.Ridiculous.Both of my sisters were in polyamorous relationships, and Ana wasn’t a bone to fight over. Even if I desperately wanted to yank her off Angelo’s thighs and plunder her mouth with my tongue, bruise her hips with my fingers, and give her the roughness she craved—or maybe it wasn’t the roughness. Maybe it was something else.

When Ana and I were sneaking kisses and quick fucks in closets and hotels, before my sister’s husband murdered her father, Ana had been sweet in my arms, as if I were her only escape from the horrific world we lived in. I’d avoided pushing too far with my need to dominate her so I could pleasure her until she cried from it, afraid of scaring her off and disturbing her peace.

I’d underestimated her, as had every other man of her acquaintance. No wonder she’d run without looking back once.

“How does this work, with you all?” I asked Valentin, not taking my eyes from the couple at the table.

He shrugged, so fucking French. “Angelo commands her. I hurt her. And you…” He trailed off. “I’m not sure where you fit in yet.”

“Me either,” I murmured.

“Are you kinky?” Valentin asked, one eyebrow tilted up, his angular face free of judgment.

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