Page 187 of Syndicate of Sin Bundle

My cheeks flushed. “They were cute, but …”

I hadn’t really checked them out. I had been with Laila and Constantino the entire time, who were both jealous, possessive monsters that sorta, kinda turned me on more than they should’ve.

“Oh, come on,” she hummed. “No sexy Italian men? Or … women?”

My cheeks flushed even harder. “Women?”

She shrugged. “If that’s your thing. Laila seemed very protective of you when I talked to her. I figured that you and she might have a thing going on?” She leaned across the table and placed her hand on mine. “And if you do, don’t worry about it. I don’t judge on little things like that.”

I laughed nervously. “Poppy, Laila has a husband.”

Her eyes widened, her lips forming an O. “Who?”

“That guy you met a couple of weeks ago in my apartment.”

“Oh, I thought he was another one of those big, scary guys who follows you around all the time.” She glanced over at Riccardo and giggled. “Like him.” Her gaze lingered for a long moment, her pupils growing wide.

Does she have a crush on him?

I shook my head and pushed the thought away. If I wasn’t still trying to get over this whole murder Bethany and Laila only saved me for the baby type of thing, I would hook them up together. But I couldn’t get my mind right.

“Why does he follow you around anyway?” Poppy asked, still gazing at him.

“Oh, um …” Think quick! “My family has … money.”

Fuck, that is the worst thing to say. But it was much better than I’m connected to the mob.

“Makes sense,” she said, finally pulling her gaze away.

Thankfully, she didn’t push it any further. Instead, she dug into her chocolate-filled croissant, cutting it in half with a knife, and entertained me with the latest gossip in her life, which was apparently a lot because she talked for nearly half the day.

At four p.m., she yawned. “Gosh, we’ve been here for hours. Sorry for keeping you.”

My lips curled into a smile. “Don’t worry about it. This was … nice. Very nice.”

So much less drama than Constantino and Laila. It felt good to have a friend outside of the family. Even if Riccardo was becoming a friend too, all he thought about was the family, climbing the ranks, and doing business.

I appreciated it, but it got boring after a while.

Once I packed up my belongings, I stood with Poppy and walked with her and Riccardo to the exit. When we walked out of the coffee shop, three guys were pushing and shoving each other on the sidewalk. One slammed his hands into a female bystander’s chest, sending her flying into the window. Glass shattered everywhere, onto the sidewalk and into the building.

Riccardo scowled and pushed us to the side so we were out of the way. “Wait here.”

Poppy looped her arm around mine and stared in horror at the scene. “Do you think we should help her?” she whispered, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her gaze dropped to the woman’s back when she stood up, and then Poppy leaped forward. “Gosh, you’re covered in blood!”

I swallowed hard, unsure about what to do. Riccardo had told me to stay put—and after the past few days I’d had, I didn’t want to disobey any orders—but the woman’s entire back was covered in a sheet of blood and glass.

“Sage, come help me pull this glass out of her back,” Poppy said, ushering the woman to a small bench at the end of the block.

Poppy knelt by her side, brow furrowed, and examined the glass lodged into this woman’s flesh.

Once I took one look at Riccardo, who had his hands full, shoving the men back from each other, I hurried over to Poppy and the woman. After dropping my purse, I crouched down behind the woman and pulled my sleeve over my hand so her blood wouldn’t come into contact with my skin. While I felt sorry for her, I didn’t know this woman at all. And in NYC, you didn’t know who was clean. It was dirty as hell out here sometimes.

I gently grasped a jagged piece of glass from the woman’s back and pulled it from her flesh, wincing from the mere sound of it. But before I could pull another piece from her flesh, someone grabbed my arms from behind and slapped a hand over my mouth. They pressed something circular and cold to the back of my spine.

“Don’t fucking scream, or I’ll blow your brains out.”

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