Page 59 of Sin & Sapphire

“De l’eau,” he snapped. “Et les amuses-gueules.” Water and snacks.

“What have you done to her?” Angelo snapped, reaching for me.

Valentin tugged me closer, pressing me against his chest as I cried. “Nothing she didn’t want,” he growled. I murmured my protest, only for him to shush me gently, pressing his lips into my hair. “Rule number four. Don’t lie to me, princess.”

“Give her to me,” Angelo said.

Valentin ignored him, sitting on the couch and arranging me so I was curled up in his lap, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, inhaling his sandalwood scent.

I wanted to push away from him, to assert my independence, insist that I hated him, and I hated what he’d done to me, but when he held a glass of water to my lips, I drank greedily. And when he offered me a bite of chocolate, I eagerly ate it from his fingers.

“Did you miss us today?” he asked.

“No,” I lied.

Yes.

23

ANGELO

Hammad staredat me with flat eyes. “This is a bad idea.”

Valentin liked him because he allowed Valentin to believe his billion-euro construction enterprise didn’t require violence to maintain.

I liked him because he was as murderous as me.

“Don’t fucking care,” I answered.

Hammad swore in flawless Arabic, English, and French. Born in Morocco like my mother, and trafficked like her, he’d escaped to America, where we’d met in high school—both using our fists to carve a path for ourselves in a world that didn’t give a shit about anything but how much money you had.

“She better fucking be worth it.”

I shoved my old friend against the wall, my fingers tight around his throat. “He’s a rapist who drugs women so they can’t fight back. And he raped Ana.”

Hammad knew about my obsession with Ana because he’d been the one to spy on her when I couldn’t. “Boris Tchérnov is the fucking bratva,” he rasped, not giving an inch, his liquid brown eyes flashing with fire.

“Ana belongs to me. And nobody fucks with what’s mine,” I snarled, stepping away from the chasm that was my need to give my angel Grégoire’s head on a platter so she’d fucking smile at me, rather than sheer possessiveness.

Hammad’s smirk didn’t fade as his deeply tanned skin turned red.

I released him and shoved myself away. “Asshole.”

He shrugged and picked up the bag he’d dropped earlier, slinging it over his shoulder, before tapping the radio in his left ear.

“Let’s go.”

We infiltrated the warehouse that concealed the upstart’s illicit poker game, our feet silent over the detritus. When I would have taken the lead, Hammad pressed a gloved hand against my chest. “Stenna,” he said. Wait. “We’re going in. Is the girl ready?”

“Wake up, slut.” Valentin’s voice was tinny over the radio.

I heard Ana’s murmured protest.

“Put this in your ear,” he said to her.

“What’s going on?” Her voice was breathy, despite the distance.

“For every man Angelo kills for you today, I’m going to leave a welt on your ass,” he promised her, and my cock hardened instantly.

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