Page 23 of Sinful Bargains

“Adriana,” he said finally, “the money’s goin’ where it needs to go. That’s all you need to know.”

His eyes flicked to mine, and I held his gaze, searching—for what? Clarity? Reasoning? A hint of reassurance that I was overthinking? But he gave me nothing. Just an empty look and a finality that settled between us like a locked door.

“That’s not an answer,” I said, my pulse quickening.

He flicked the ashes out the window. “It’s the only answer you’re gettin’.”

I watched him for a second longer, willing him to give me more, to say something—something that wouldn’t make my stomach twist the way it was now. But silence filled the space between us. I turned away, staring out the window, my mind drifting away.

There had always been something off about this town. I felt it the moment I arrived. The way people watched without seeming to, the careful hush that seemed to settle over certain conversations. I remembered standing at the market checkout when my eyes caught a headline on a newspaper rack.Staten Island: A Mafia Stronghold?The article claimed corruption ran deep—right down to the mayor and the cops.

I had looked away then, refusing to let my mind go there. Refusing to believe that I had escaped one hell just to land in another. But now, sitting in Joey’s car with a duffel bag full of cash in the backseat and a non-answer hanging between us, I wasn’t so sure.

JOEY

Game day at Yankee Stadium meant fans everywhere, decked out in navy and white, the pinstripes showing up on jerseys, young and old. People clutched hot dogs, peanuts, and foam fingers like it was some kind of religion. Antonio walked ahead of me, his head swinging left and right, taking it all in with these wide, curious eyes. It’s like he’s a kid again, not a kid who’s had to grow up too fast. I keep an eye on him as we weave through the crowd of fans. Part of me wished I could enjoy this the way he does, carefree and full of wonder. But I’ve been me for too long. Even here, with thousands of strangers screaming for the same team, a part of me is always on alert. But then I catch his grin when we step out into the stands, the field stretching before us like something out of a dream. For a second, it’s enough to make me forget who I am on the streets of New York.

Just as much as I liked Adriana, I liked Antonio, too. The two of them had entered my world, leaving a mark I never imagined possible. When I looked at him, I saw myself. In him, I saw a chance to rewrite my own past, to reshape his future, even though I knew my own outcome was already set. This life hadno redemption for my sins. But he could be spared with me by his side.

“Whoa! This place is huge!” His grin stretched ear to ear as he looked around.

I smirked. “Yeah, not bad, huh? You feel that energy? That’s the sound of a city that loves its baseball.” My hand clapped against his back as we stood side by side, taking in the sights before us. “You know, first game I saw was way back in ‘41—Yankees versus Red Sox. Place was so loud, I thought my ears would pop.”

His eyes widened. “Did the Yankees win?”

“Of course, they won,” I said, grinning. “You think DiMaggio would let the Sox walk away with it? Nah. And I wouldn’t bother telling the story if they’d lost.”

We made our way toward a vendor, the smell of peanuts and pretzels thick in the air. I grabbed a Yankees cap and a foam finger, handing them to Antonio.

“Here, put these on. Can’t come to a game without gear—it’s bad luck.”

He didn’t hesitate, sliding the cap onto his head. His excitement was contagious. “Oh, man, this is awesome. Thank you, Joey!”

“There you go.” I nodded, satisfied. “Now you look the part. Let’s get to our seats before we miss the first pitch.”

Antonio and I settled into our seats near the third baseline, surrounded by fans shouting and cheering. I passed him a hot dog and soda as he balanced a bag of peanuts in his lap.

“Alright,” I said, pointing toward the field, “here’s the deal. You see the guy at the plate? That’s Mickey Mantle—our star hitter. They call him the Commerce Comet. He’s got one of the best swings in the league.”

Antonio took a bite of his hot dog, studying Mantle. “He looks pretty calm for having, like, thousands of people staring athim. I think I’d be nervous if it were me out there. How do you think he does it?”

“That’s the game, kid.” I chuckled. “Pressure’s part of it. You stay cool, keep your focus, and deliver when it counts. Kinda like life, ya know?”

Before he could answer, a loud crack split the air as the batter connects with a fastball, sending it deep into the outfield. The crowd leaped to its feet, a wave of cheers erupting all around us.

He jumps up, his eyes wide. “Is it gonna be a home run?”

I stand beside him, tracking the ball. “Nah, looks like a double. But still, that was a helluva hit!”

As the game continued, I explained plays and strategies while Antonio soaked it all in, nodding and asking questions like a kid seeing the world for the first time. During a break between innings, he leaned back in his seat with a huge grin. “This is so much better than watching it on TV.”

“Told ya,” I said, matching his smile. “Baseball’s not just a sport—it’s an experience. You don’t just watch it—you feel it.”

“Did you ever play when you were a kid?” he asked, glancing at me.

I hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Not as much as I wanted to. Life had other plans for me, ya know?”Other plans.Like climbing the ranks of organized crime before I was old enough to buy a game ticket.

Antonio didn’t pick up on my meaning. Instead, he asked, “You think I could play someday?”

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