Page 80 of Heartless Sinner

That hits a mark. I can see it from the flash of fury in her eyes. “Look at you talking like the boss already.”

“Iamthe boss.”

"Your father wanted us to get married. He still does. We make sense. We always did.” She looks like she really believes that.

There’s no point acting surprised. This is what she’s like. She’s not the sort to beat around the bush. She’s always been direct and straight to the point no matter how inappropriate the conversation is.

“This conversation is over.” It’s best not to stay and encourage her.

“I know what you need. She won’t. I know what you like. She won’t have a clue. Don’t you remember how we used to be?"

A cold smile inches across my lips. "What I remember is finding you in Professor Knight’s office with him balls deep inside you."

Her face flushes, anger replacing the seductive mask. "That was a mistake?—"

"No." I hold up my hand to stop her from continuing. "That was a choice."

“It was still a mistake.”

I step closer, watching her shrink back. "Here's what's going to happen. We’re not going to have this conversation again. If my father wants to waste his money on your little venture, that's his business. But you and I are done."

Her eyes narrow, tears gathering at the corners—always her favorite weapon. "You've changed."

"Yeah." I move past her toward my father's office, not sparing her another glance.

She watches me until I go through the door, and even when the door closes, I can still feel her gaze.

I find my father standing at the window. The office is huge, and he’s at the farthest end, but I know he heard every word in the hallway.

His back is turned to me, and I realize he’s doing that thing where he’s deep in thought because things haven’t gone his way.

Above his head hangs the portrait of my nonno—Vittorio Delarosa—his stern eyes watching over every decision made in this room.

Three generations of Delarosa men built this empire on blood and tradition, and my father has never let me forget it. That doesn’t mean he’s going to rule every inch of my life.

"Going to explain why my ex is strutting around our family home?" I keep my voice level, but there's an edge to it that makes him turn.

"I’m sure she told you.”

“We both know your business investment isn’t the only reason she’s here. You’re still trying to set me up with Eloise even though I’ve chosen a wife.”

“Of course, I am." He gestures to the wall where photos of past family gatherings hang like a visual family tree. "Her family and ours have been associates for three generations. Her grandparents and parents were at your birth and baptism. Her father is like a brother to me. These bonds—they're sacred. They mean something. Yet you’ve just picked some woman off the streets who doesn’t even know our ways."

"Papà you are fucking unbelievable." My harsh tone makes him wince.Good. "You’re talking bullshit about bonds andbrotherhood to me, forgetting Eloise has no loyalty. She’ll fuck anything that walks, and that means nothing to you."

"People make mistakes, Micah." He waves his hand dismissively, like he's swatting away an inconvenient truth.

“You and Ma have been married for over thirty years, but you’ve been together since you were in your teens. Did either of you make that kind of mistake?”

“Absolutely not. But that doesn’t mean other people won’t. Eloise was young, and she’s changed. Sometimes, tradition and family connections are worth more than past indiscretions. That is the Italian way."

I shake my head in dismay, realizing this conversation must have been brewing from the moment I gave him Scarlett’s name.

"You're choosing to throw away centuries of connection." He points to the family photos again. "Look at this. Every Delarosa man for five generations has married into one of the five families or their allies. And now you're following a different path."

“There has never been a law that said I couldn’t.”

“There didn’t need to be. It should have been a given that you’d know to choose a woman in our circle. This Scarlett James doesn't know how to be a proper Italian wife, let alone one to a mafia boss?—"

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