Page 24 of SINS & Riley
His gaze narrows, weighing me. “What do you need?”
“To talk to my sister.”
“Oh, sure. No problem.” The sarcasm snaps off each word as he chuckles. Then, his long finger jabs at my face in full accusation. “You’re insane.”
Okay, scrap that plan. And I really wish he’d stop giving me the stink eye. Hello? Fellow kidnapping victim here. Blame Zver.
A faint smile ghosts across his face, more bitter than amused. “Even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t. I wasn’t exactly invited here. And my phone?” He snorts, giving an exaggerated shrug. “Yeah, because they totally let me stroll in with a phone. My AK-47 too.”
I think fast. “Then a note. Can you at least get her a small note?”
“No.”
My hands clasp together tight. “Please. One small note.”
His eyes flick to the necklace at my throat. “I know what that means. Sorry, Riley. Captives don’t get to pass notes in class.”
I think fast. “I don’t need her to know where I am. I just need her to know I’m okay.”
He just stands there for way too long, stroking his beard, thinking it over.
My Scottish hackles flare. “Either you help me,” I snap, “or you fail at whatever the hell your task is.” I spin away, giving him the cold shoulder. “I won’t cooperate.”
It’s a bluff. Of course, I will. I won’t put one more person in harms way. But desperate times, and he’s my only shot.
He exhales, smooths his hair like he’s drafting a resignation, then holds up two swatches. “Fine. But you first. Silk or satin?”
“For—?”
“Restraints.”
A silent duh hangs in the air.
Of course. Why am I not surprised? Oh wait… I am.
It’s a small quid pro quo, Riley. Just answer. I grit it out. “Silk, I guess.”
He nods before he hits me with a rocket launcher. “Remove your clothes.”
My heart slams into overdrive. “What?”
8
RILEY
At the end of three very long hours of being primped and prodded, I know Ricardo Ricci on an intimate level.
And by intimate, I mean I know how many tears he cried and Lindt balls he inhaled to bring Kennedy’s wedding gown to life. Spoiler alert: it’s a lot.
I also know how my Satan-in-law’s silk wedding tie fell victim to Ricardo’s ugly-cry—only for him to iron it crisp an hour later and slip it right around Enzo’s neck.
Gross. Yet deeply satisfying.
Alarmed, his eyes fly to mine. “Swear not to tell Enzo.”
I cross a finger over my heart. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He presses a hand to his chest like I’ve knighted him. “And your secret is safe with me.”
