Page 6 of Sinful Attraction

He’s here with his brother and his brother’s family, and he doesn’t see me at first. I’m glad of that. He doesn’t need to notice how I immediately find myself unable to look away from him for long.

He’s actually in a suit. He only wears suits to church and funerals, as far as I know. He looks damn good in charcoal gray tailored, though. Especially those shoulders.

But if he catches me looking, he’ll take it as an invitation to saunter over, tease me, and flirt in ways that will get my mother overexcited. I’m not risking that. I already feel like duct-taping her mouth.

I wouldn’t even mind the flirtation; he’s hot, smart, and pretty charismatic, but he’s also a rival from a family that doesn’t get along with mine. He doesn’t seem to care about those things, but I absolutely do. I have to prove myself in such ways he doesn’t, basically, because he’s a man, I’m a woman, and the Mob and my family are... the way they are.

Sometimes, I almost wish I could explain it to the big dumbass so he’d stop teasing me. But I’m really left wondering if he would even listen. So few do. They’re all too wrapped up in their agendas to think about the people around them.

I wish he didn’t cross a room so well. Watching him get up for Communion is an exercise in self-restraint, especially in a well-cut suit. I don’t mind jeans guys, but there’s something about a guy who cleans up well that I can’t even put my finger on.

Once I’ve gotten my bite of doughy Host and sip of vinegary wine, I head back to my seat—and catch him watching me. His eyes are bright and friendly, and when he catches me looking back, he smiles and waves.

My cheeks start burning. The audacity of this guy! I have to force myself not to hurry back to my seat. He would find that way too amusing if I did.

I spend the rest of the service trying not to think about him, thinking about him anyway, and being mad at myself for thinking about him.

After the service is the usual lunchtime potluck that has almost everyone in the congregation piled into the church’s small community center. Mom’s on another of her diets and has brought salad. I had to talk myself out of bringing cookies, getting a cheese plate with crackers instead.

Michael is there because, of course, he is buzzing around the room, socializing before we line up to fill our plates. He’s always shaking hands, laughing with that person, or getting everyone around him to listen to one of his stories. I’d think he was a ray of sunshine if he was less obnoxious about it.

As it is, he’s a pain in my butt, and I can see he’s circling me. Subtly, watching me, swinging into my line of sight, even sitting in my line of sight once we fill our plates and sit down. I do my best to ignore him, feeling awkward and overheated.

Damn him, he’s got me wolfing my food and thinking about waiting in the car just so I won’t be caught staring again. But, instead, I’m stuck making nice with some of my mom’s friends, who have planted themselves across the table from us and started chattering nonstop.

“So, your mom says you’re still not seeing anyone,” bottle-red-haired Mary is prying at me. I manage to keep a polite smile on my face as she goes on. “You know, my cousin’s boy is about your age. I could set you up if you’d like.”

Damn it, Mom. Now she’s got her small army of busybody friends after me, too. It really makes me want to beg off and go home.

At least fending them off distracts me from the Michael Show happening behind them.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m wrapped up in a work project right now and won’t have time for at least another few weeks.” By then, hopefully, Mary, who has an attention span as short as a six-year-old, will have moved on to something else.

“Well, how about after that?” Her smile is unnerving, mostly because her lipstick clashes with her hair, and she has flecks of it on her teeth.

“You know, I don’t see why not. Could you tell me more about him?” I am never, ever, ever going on that date, but if it will appease these women and my mother long enough to make them shut up for a while, I’m happy to play along.

Deep inside, though, it angers and depresses me. I wish I had a cool rebel aunt who never got married and could guide me through all this constant pressure. But I don’t. My aunts, largely, are just like my mother.

Once the holidays roll around, they will doubtless be after me, too.

I just wish there was one person in my entire family who saw my side and stood up for me. My sisters, my brothers, my dad, they try to understand a little, but they join right in with the chorus once my mother gets started.

Suddenly, I’m watching Michael just to look at something hot so I won’t be quite so depressed. But he catches me again and again until it almost feels like he’s laughing at me.

Chapter 4

Michael

Seeing Arya at church made me feel even worse about what I am about to do to her. I wanted to go talk to her the whole time. She was surrounded by relatives who seemed to be picking at her, and she seemed desperate to escape. But every time I tried to engage her, she avoided me despite staring at me almost constantly throughout the service and the potluck.

Last night, I had trouble sleeping. I even dreamed of her again. Not a sex dream, but a guilt dream. Her standing in front of the church congregation, asking why I ruined her life. Why I’m always in the way when she’s trying to do something to impress her family. Why I smile at her face but act like I hate her.

I wake up broody, ashamed, and still horny for her, and it doesn’t help when I look at the date on my phone. The heist is tonight. That means that tonight, I have to steal it all from her.

The worst part of all of it is that my father’s added another requirement to my list of tasks for the night. After all the aggravation her family has caused him, he wants to make sure that they know it was us.

Which means that Arya will know... it was me.

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