Page 89 of Sinful Honor

I denied access, then made a mental note to hire someone to do a security audit on our family’s system. And another mental note to discuss moving our family business onto the online realm. Businesses were so much more vulnerable to online theft and extortion than offline so we needed that security. Though online would be much easier, cleaner, would mean less manpower and better profit margins and was overall a good business decision. Running online casinos was so much more profitable, as well.

Maybe I could even hire Peaches. I looked up and into the mirror for a moment, just to watch my pretty captive, Sophie, throwing daggers at my back.

Peaches would laugh into my face. SOG’s main mission was fighting human trafficking. Honor, courage, and virtue weren’t only lip service to them. So, the chance for Peaches to come to work for me and use his skills for evil was zero, zilch, out of the question.

But maybe—since human trafficking was the one criminal thing my family didn’t have their fingers in—we could become temporary allies.

The number of files before me made me blink. Peaches didn’t lie; there were folders upon folders, all named in some kind of numeric code. How the fuck would I ever find anything in this heap of data?

But thanks to Peaches, there was one text file named “Read me—Mafia Prince.”

That asshole, making fun of me already.

I opened the file.

Hey,

I didn’t take time to crack the nomenclature, but there’s a folder with all the video files—I renamed it for you and found the one from two nights ago, as well.

She’s a beaut, but you look like a beast between all the suits.

P.

I shook my head, then ground my teeth.

I was grateful for his help, but a desire to kill him bubbled up inside of me.

Nobody got to look at her—nobody but me.

I searched for the file, then downloaded the video.

I looked up into the mirror and caught her staring at me, murder in her eyes.

My beautiful captive was furious being bound to the bed.

When the download was complete, I opened the file.

It was the video feed for the living room, trained at the table. The quality wasn’t very good, but you could see people coming in and out. I fast-forwarded and watched the table being set.

It grew dark outside the windows, and the lights turned on. I fast-forwarded until the first men flooded into the room and took their seats.

Fausto’s seat at the head of the table was closest to the camera, and with his back turned to the camera, there wasn’t a single frame with his face in it.

How convenient.

He knew how to dodge his own surveillance.

I watched myself enter. Peaches had been right. Between all the black suits, black shirts, and black shoes, I stood out like a parrot.

My hair wild, my torn jeans and white tee made me look a little out of place. The dress shirt and the tie that hung around my neck like a noose didn’t help either.

Good.

I didn’t even want to fit in.

Even though I would need to.

I’d accepted my destiny.

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