Page 115 of SINS & Riley
Deep breath. Slow exhale. Turn the knob already, Riley.
I do.
And in hindsight, knocking might’ve been the smarter play, considering what I walk into.
Not Enzo’s office.
His bedroom.
His and my sister’s bedroom.
I swear to God, I’m going to kill Kennedy. I came here for a private, serious word with her husband, and she sends me straight into baby-making central.
What the hell was she thinking?
A four-poster bed. French doors spilling sunlight over miles of Italian countryside. And in the center—Enzo. A furious storm of rage framed against perfection.
Could there be a better snapshot of his marriage to Kennedy?
And because fate hates me, yup, he’s in a bathrobe. Note to self: bleach retinas ASAP.
He’s tearing into the air, swearing in a seamless blur of Italian and English, every word sharp enough to flay skin.
At least he had the sense to double-knot the robe.
“So he blew up one of my factories,” Enzo snarls like he’s scolding a two year old. Then, louder: “Again? I don’t know which is getting older—him doing it, or you telling me after the fact.”
“Yes, sir. Understood, sir. It won’t happen again,” the voice on the other end stammers, stiff and almost militant.
Not exactly convincing. I roll my eyes.
Enzo rolls his too.
Enzo drags a hand through his thick hair, hard enough I’m shocked he doesn’t yank half of it out. “If that fucker takes down one more asset, I’ll rip his beating heart out, skewer it, and feed it to him like a goddamn s’more.”
Well, somebody’s demon wings are ruffled. Hmm. I wonder who he’s talking about.
He sneers into the phone. “That Russian is about to meet his destiny.”
Oh. My. God. He couldn’t mean?—
“You have twenty-four hours,” Enzo barks. “And trust me, you don’t want to know what happens if you fail.”
“Yes, sir.”
Enzo ends the call with a snap of his fingers, then hurls the phone across the room. It smashes against the wall, splintering into shards.
My stomach knots before my brain catches up.
There’s only one Russian who can set him off like this.
My Russian.
Zver.
And maybe it’s evil, but I have to bite back a smile.
My pulse skips, then races. But then Enzo steps out from around the bed, and my heart thuds to the floor.
