Page 2 of The Cost of Corruption

Apparently, there had been muffled laughter when it was announced at my christening. The idea of anythingchastecoming out of this family was too ridiculous to be believed.

But just like with everything else in my father’s life, this was no joke. He was dead serious. He intended my life as an offering to even the divine scales of justice.

And now that I was only weeks away from making my final vows and fully joining a cloister of Carmelite nuns, my father must have considered his plan a success. For years, he’d held tight to the reins of my life, but apparently, tonight, he’d finally unafraid to loosen his grip and allow me out into the world. After all, there might be a couple of mooks stupid enough to mess around with Michael Costa’s only daughter, but there wasn’t a soul in all of the five families who would dare lay a finger on a nun.

At least, that’s what my father believed.

And tonight, he’d been brave enough to test that theory, letting my cousins swoop me up and parade me straight into the most corrupt and ungodly corners of New York.

But if Alessia and the rest of my cousins had hoped to scandalize me with their whirlwind tour of Manhattan’s most hedonistic clubs and bars, it didn’t work. I might’ve been innocent, but I was still a mafia boss’ daughter.

I knew how the world worked.

At least, I thought I did.

I’d overheard the stories my brothers told. I listened to the whispers of the women my convent served. I’d even seen a nude man before…though it had been during my time ministeringwith other sisters at a convalescent hospital for elderly veterans upstate. And even I had to admit that sight was nothing like the three virile young men dancing in front of me right now.

Even so, I was far from shocked, horrified, or even titillated by the sight of the dancers’ sweaty muscles. The only thing I felt was slightly embarrassed…for them.

It wasn’t a judgmental reaction. I had no issue with sex workers. After all, Jesus had spent time among them. He’d even called some of them friends. And if they were good enough company for the Lord, then I who was I to judge.

No, the truth is I would have pitied anyone who found themselves in the unfortunate position of having to entertain my cousins all night.

Still, it was clear that Alessia wouldn’t be happy until she’d dragged some kind of righteous reaction out of me.

Leaning back against the dancer behind her, she said in a voice loud enough for me to hear, “How much to give my penguin cousin a lap dance?”

At least the man had the grace to present me with an apologetic smile as he met my flat, expressionless gaze. “I don’t think the sister is interested.”

Alessia’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, she reminded me a little too much of her underboss father. The same rash and violent temper flashed in her eyes. “I didn’t ask what youthought. I asked how much?”

“Alessia, don’t talk to him that way,” I protested, doing my best impression of my current mother superior…though apparently, my attempt at an authoritative tone wasn’t as intimidating. The only reaction I got was an eye roll. “And he’s right. I’m absolutely not interested.”

“As if you have any idea what it means to be interested,” Alessia shot back with a laugh before turning back to the dancer. “My cousin might be the most repressed girl on the planet. Youwanna know what happened the day we girls took her out to buy her first bra? The second her papa found out, he shipped her off to an all-girls Catholic boarding school. No kidding. That morning, we were browsing the racks at Victoria’s Secret, and that night, her bags were packed, and she was being loaded into the car.”

“Alessia, please stop. That’s not your story to tell,” I snapped. “Especially not to a stranger whose name you don’t even know.”

“Of course, I know his name,” she shouted over the thumping bass line. “It’s Kyle.”

“Kent,” the dancer corrected her.

“Whatever,” Alessia shrugged. “And whaddya mean I can’t tell that story? I was there, wasn’t I? I was the one who talked you into that lacy, red number that made Uncle Michael lose his damn mind. Why’d you want something so slutty anyway?”

“Don’t you remember?” Sophia shouted from across the room. “She had a crush on some boy at school—never did tell us who he was.”

“Too bad she never got a chance to wow him with that pushup,” another cousin cracked, joining in. “Though God knows, her tits were so small back then she needed all the help she could get.”

“Good thing she’s not looking to impress anyone now because she’s still tiny.” Alessia burst out laughing at her own cruel humor before turning her attention back to me. “So, who was that boy you had a crush on, anyway?”

I cupped my hands in my lap and swallowed down the lump of shame and humiliation that had formed in my throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The words were immediately followed by a silent prayer, begging forgiveness for the bald-faced lie.

Alessia rolled her eyes. “Like I said, the most repressed girl on the planet.”

Before my cousin could open her mouth again, the dancer cupped his hands suggestively around her hips and started to grind even harder into her backside. Even though I know I should have been morally appalled by the lascivious display, the only thing I felt was gratitude. His blatantly sexy moves successfully shifted all the attention in the room away from me.

And, judging by the kind and apologetic glance Kent shot me as all the girls in the room squealed in delight, it had been a calculated move. An unexpected kindness to help take the attention off me. And heaven knew I appreciated it.

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