Page 72 of Sweetest Sin
Only the worst doesn’t come.
“Jesus,” Dominick hisses, gently lifting me off the floor and carrying me into the living room. “Are you okay? What were you doing?”
I open my eyes just in time to see him glance from me to the office door and back.
“Were you spying on me?”
He quirks a brow, and I squirm for him to put me down, but he only holds me tighter.
“You lied,” I choke out.
“What?”
“You said you would keep your business out of this home. I was coming to talk to you and heard you tell someone that you wouldslice his throatyourself.”
Dominick’s eyes go wide.
“What if it had been Damien? He could’ve heard your conversation. Is that what you want? For our son to know that his father is a killer?”
“Fuck.” He scrubs his hand down his face.
I notice his stubble has turned into a full-grown beard. His eyes … they look cold, and underneath them, his tanned skin is dark, like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Are you okay?”
He sighs. “Shit’s hit the fan. Somebody keeps going after our shipments. We lost one, costing us hundreds of thousands of dollars, but they fucked up with this last one, and we were able to catch one of them. He’s being held at the warehouse, waiting to be interrogated. I wasn’t thinking when I spoke. I’m not used to having to censor what I say.”
“If you’d rather we move somewhere else …” His jaw clenches, so I add, “Not another city. But we could move somewhere else. To another home. I was actually thinking I could start looking for a job?—”
“Peyton,” he growls, “you’re not going anywhere. I would never hurt you or our son. I would kill myself before either of you hurt in any way.”
I swallow thickly, wanting to believe him. He’s done nothing to show me otherwise, but it’s hard to separate the two—the violent businessman and the man currently sitting on the couch, holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
His phone vibrates in his hand, and he tightens his fist around it. “I have to go.”
I swallow around the lump lodged in my throat, and instead of getting up, he glances at me.
“I’ve been distracted the past several days, but I want you and Damien here.” He tucks a few wayward strands of hair behind my ear. “We’ll talk when I get home.”
I nod, and then he stands, sets me down on the couch, and walks out the door while I stay where I am, wondering what the hell I’m doing. I agreed to move in here, but I don’t think I can do this. Even if he keeps his business out of the home, I still know what he’s doing when he leaves.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Brielle says, stepping out of the shadows. “How can you possibly be with a man who’s capable of playing cars with his son one minute and then shooting someone the next?”
She saunters over, looking put together, as always. Today, she’s sporting a high-waisted, wide-legged crimson pant set with a sleeveless crop top that shows off just a hint of her flat belly. Her blonde hair looks to have freshly done highlights, and her makeup is flawless. Finishing her look is a pair of matching heelswith the signature red sole. I’m not sure what she does all day, but I’ve yet to see her looking anything but perfect.
Meanwhile, I’m in an oversized T-shirt and cotton shorts, making me look like a homeless person.
“Get the thought of leaving out of your head,” she says, stopping in front of me. “Even if you somehow convince my brother to let you go, once you’re in this world, there is no getting out. Everyone’s already talking. They know Dominick has a son—an heir to the almighty Antonov empire. Matteo has spread the word that Anthony tried to take him, and there’s a bull’s-eye on his forehead with a hefty price tag.”
“You got out,” I note, remembering Dominick mentioned she was in Russia for almost five years.
“And now I’m back, and not by choice. You can fight against it all you want, but it won’t change anything.” She walks over and joins me on the couch.
“When my grandfather was growing up, Harbor Point was overrun by violence and corruption and poverty. Little by little, my grandfather, along with his friends, Antonio Russo and Joseph Rothschild Senior started cleaning up the city. They provided protection to businesses so they could run without fear of being pushed out or robbed. They swept the streets of the shady drug dealers and pimps, and my grandfather bought the port so he could control all import and export. Then, they started buying the run-down buildings and renovating them.”
“Rothschild and Russo?” I question, having heard those names before. “You mean Lorenzo and Anthony’s?—”
“Grandfathers,” she finishes. “Though Antonio and Joseph Senior died at an early age from a heart attack and car accident, my grandfather didn’t die until he was in his eighties. By the time my grandfather was set to retire, he and his friends had transformed this city. North Harbor Point was thriving, and South Harbor Point was ten times safer.” She smilesthoughtfully, and it’s clear she was fond of her grandfather. “But my grandfather made the mistake of allowing Andrey to take over.”
