Page 115 of Made to Sin

Sly, sly man.

The thoughtfulness rendered me speechless as I sat there with my mouth hung open like a fish. I bit my lower lip to keep in the scream of happiness, but it came out anyway.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

A boyish grin dawned on his face. “So you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Well, don’t get too excited yet. I have one more thing for you.”

There was more? God, what was in the air the day he was born? Someone in the human-making factory must have accidentally poured too much grandeur into his mixture because he was the definition of dreaminess.

My happiness morphed into confusion as he disappeared down the hall, wondering what else he had up his sleeves. How long did he plan this? And how did I not suspect anything?

When he came out with a velvet red box that undeniably looked like a jewelry box, I immediately objected. “Luciano, the Kindle was already more than enough. You didn’t have to spendyour money.”

He gave me an unimpressed look. “You don’t even know what it is, Katarina.”

“I don’t need to know to guess it’s expensive,” I shot back.

He set the box down on my lap and demanded, “Open it.”

My clammy hands held onto the extended ribbon, shaking, as I lifted the top lid. I had expected it to be a big gesture of a diamond necklace or something similar, but at the sight of what lay inside, I nearly dropped the box.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

I blinked once. Then twice, verifying I wasn’t hallucinating. There, in its shining glory, was the waterfall emerald necklace I had donated seven months ago.

Was this a prank? Was it a replica?

I scanned each detail, making sure it wasn’t a mimic. My hands brushed the jewels, the casing, the shine. To no surprise, the gems were as I remembered, down to the little scratch on the third one from the clasp.

Carefully placing the necklace back in its box, I turned my focus on the person who gave it to me.

“How did you get this?”

“I bought it,” he coolly answered.

The anonymous buyer. I should have guessed it was him as the old man bidding didn’t appear the slightest bit interested.

Unwillingly, tears brimmed my eyes. It wasn’t because of the present or his generosity but because of how I felt that night. How I felt when I heard it sold. It seemed that since the beginning, Luciano had been a symbol of hope for me.

“Why?” I whispered, my voice missing in the abyss of happiness.

He reused what I said to him back then. “It’s for a good cause.”

Money wasn’t a problem for someone like him, but I knew there was another reason. He could have easily bid more on theartworks that were donated.

Voice cracking, I pushed for answers. “Why are you giving it to me?”

His answer was immediate, engraved in cold, hard truths. “The first time we met, you looked so beautiful with it on, I couldn’t believe you donated it. I had no clue what to do once I won it, but I knew I had to have it.”

Adoration ran rampant in me, and I swore I saw cartoon hearts when I stared at him. “Was it worth thirty-five million dollars?”

Was I worth thirty-five million dollars?

“Down to the last fucking cent.”

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