Page 1 of Reckless Sinner

CHAPTER1

Dante

Whenever people asked me why I became I lawyer, I would reply,I’ve always had such a fondness for the law.

This was partially true. Mom used to say that whatever law-abiding gene was in me clearly came from her side—and had skipped a couple generations— because I definitely hadn’t gotten it from Dad.

While my two other brothers were spending their childhoods either concocting schemes to get away with (Vincent) or finding every way to annoy and defy authority figures (Marco), I liked to just sit in a quiet corner and read. I enjoyed homework. The nuns who ran the Catholic school we attended—prestigious and, of course, tradition in my family—repeatedly mentioned on my report cards what a “refreshing surprise” I was after dealing with Vincent who smiled to their faces but they knew was getting up to shit they couldn’t pin on him, and then Marco who thought riling up the entire class with dick jokes was a great way to start a Monday.

Unlike my siblings, I liked order. I liked studying. I liked finding nuances in rules. They made me feelsafe. You always knew where you were with rules. You could turn them to your advantage and use them, either to trap others or advance your own interests. I’d never seen the appeal that my brothers did in breaking every rule under the sun when simply by workingwiththe rules I could get pretty damn far in life.

But I hadn’t ever wanted to be a lawyer.

Don’t get me wrong, I was good at it. I liked it well enough. But I hadn’t chosen the career. Dad had. It had been a pretty explicit ultimatum. No, not even an ultimatum—that suggested a choice. I’d had none. It was justyou’re going to law school. You’re becoming an associate for the family.

The truth was, the reason that I liked being a lawyer wasn’t because I enjoyed following, enforcing, or manipulating the rules. It was because I likedarguing. And I likedwinning.

Just ask anyone who had to grow up in a house that held both my father and me. Anytime someone asked me how I got so damn good at my job, I always said, “I grew up arguing with my father.”

Most people knew who my father was, but they were always shocked that I never tried to hide my lineage, or deny it. I figured, why bother? Why pretend like nobody knew that my father was Antonio Russo, mob boss extraordinaire?

Instead, I used it to my advantage, like I did all rules and laws and facts. I grew up arguing with a mob boss. If I could beat him, surely I could win your case for you. There was no lawyer better or tougher or sharper than I was. I was a goddamn shark in the courtroom.

I hadn’t argued with my father in years. Mostly because I hadn’t seen him.

I knew I would have to see him, soon, for Vincent’s wedding. A wedding I disapproved of, by the way, but nobody in my family ever listened to me. Rumor had it that Vincent had murdered a guy, or several, for the sake of one Marla Preston and frankly I didn’t think our family needed any more encouragement in the hot-headed and violent department.

That wasn’t even counting the fact that Marco was apparently seeing a stripper. Again. Not a surprise except for the fact that she’d stuck around longer than a couple of weeks. Undoubtedly, Dad was going to get into it with Marco and honestly I wasn’t sure if I was annoyed that the wedding would be spoiled by such a scene, or grateful that he’d argue with someone that wasn’t me.

It would be the first time I’d seen him since…well, in a very long time. By choice. Things tended to get ugly when we were in the same room together. Especially since Mom had died.

They were about to get either prettier or uglier after today, and I had no idea which way it would go. Because today… today I was going to be announced as a partner at Weston & Lerner.

Partner by age thirty. That had been my goal. Call me an overachiever but just because I hadn’t chosen to become a lawyer didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be the best in the state. I was going to rub it in my old man’s face. I was going to be so successful, so surrounded by friends and associates, sopowerful, that my father wouldn’t be able to order me around anymore or use me to further his own personal agendas.

Becoming a partner at Weston & Lerner was an important step towards that goal.

I dressed extra-smartly for the day, making sure not a hair was out of place. My brothers were both skilled in artful dishevelment, but that wouldn’t fly at a law firm. I had all my suits made bespoke, with my tailor and I picking out the fabric of this particular suit together, and I’d had the tie custom-made to match. It was a dupioni silk suit, the fabric giving it a flashy but still work-appropriate shine. This particular fabric was woven through with pink and black threads to give it a misty gray color that turned ever-so-slightly purple when it caught the light.

The tie was the same color but with thick dark purple—so dark they were nearly black—stripes crossing diagonally over the fabric. I went with black cufflinks, since the suit was shining enough, and grinned at myself in the mirror.

Dante Russo, Partner. I damn well looked the part. I was a man on top of the world, a man ready to celebrate.

When I arrived at the office, I could see the eyes of all the poor kiddos in the bullpen following me. Our paralegals and law secretaries were what kept this place running and I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do my job without them, but that didn’t mean that any of them made the mistake of thinking they were on the same level as I was. I was the star of the show, the young hotshot at the firm, and everyone knew it.

I kept my composure as I walked by them all on my way up to the main conference room. Office gossip traveled faster than the clap at a frat house but that didn’t mean I should show I wasawareof the gossip. I was supposed to act like everything was normal right up until the official announcement.

When I reached the main conference room, I saw all the people that I expected to: Alan Weston and Jack Lerner, the men who’d started this firm and had their names on the wall; the three senior partners who I knew were all jockeying in the hope of gettingtheirnames on the wall; the junior partner who’d been promoted last year and with whom I’d shortly be an equal; and a couple of the firm’s best clients and board members.

But there was one extra person, someone I hadn’t expected. For a moment I thought she must be someone’s personal assistant or secretary. But I knew the secretaries at our firm, and I knew the personal assistants of our clients. It was my business to know every single detail about the lives of our clients so that no bullshit they pulled, whether it was hookers or embezzlement, would surprise me.

This woman… she wasn’t any of those things.

She did look familiar, though. Had I ever seen her before? If so, where?

Being the son of a mafia boss, you learned to be good at memorizing faces. You had to always be able to recognize allies and enemies on sight. I knew I’d seen this woman, so why couldn’t I place her?

She was gorgeous, though, that was for sure. A petite, delicate creature with blonde, corkscrew curls, she had an impish face and a sly look in her eyes that promised trouble.

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