Page 134 of Made to Sin

“I love you,” he rasped when we pulled apart.

“I love you,” I returned.

He grabbed my hand in his, and we walked out of the church with confetti and cheers following our steps. His silver Aston Martin with a big “newlyweds” sign waited by the curb for us to make our grand exit.

Like the gentleman he was, he opened my door and gestured for me to enter. “Let’s go home,wife.”

My heart grew to double its size. “Let’s go home,husband.”

He let out an abrasive groan from the base of his throat, grabbing my arm to stop me from fully getting in. “We might need to make a pitstop.”

Oh, come on, it was really difficult to maneuver a wedding dress into the seat, and he was going to make me undo it?

“Why?”

“I saw the color of your heels.”

He sucked in a breath as if the what-ifs were enough to break his composure. On the outside, I was aloof, but as his hands began to roam my backside, I was equally as desperate.

My husband stole my breath and took my soul. I no longer cared if he was everything wrong for me, or if I was everything wrong for him. It wasn’t my fault nobody warned me that being wrong could feel so right.

He was my husband, and I was his wife. If it meant I had to be wrong, had to tear the world down for him, I would.

Because since the beginning, I knew we weremade to sin.

The End

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The following page is a preview of the second book in this series (Beneveti #2). Please note any changes in the published version is up to the author’s discretion.

February 2022

THISWASTHEMOSTRIDICULOUSthing I’d ever done in my twenty-six years of living, but modesty didn’t complete a hit.

After hours of sitting and pretending to be involved in a Vietnamese cookbook, I was bored out of my mind. There was a party downstairs, but I was cooped up in isolation.

Though it wasn’t voluntary, I had to do what I had to do to get close to Dante Beneveti. From the minute I was assigned to kill theCosa Nostra’snotorious consigliere, I knew it wasn’t going to be a mindless assassination.

The man was smart.

I had to be smarter.

Spending the last three weeks tracing him, I narrowed it down to this very spot: the library at the famous Beneveti Hotel.

The building was the grandest in their family’s hotel chain, reaching up to one hundred and ten stories in the middle of the Upper East Side of good ol’ New York City. The living spaces were advertised to be populated with the newest technology, while the common rooms utilized timeless furniture carved from wood dating back to the 1800s.

The Benevetis surely weren’t shy to show it off, opening the hotel’s doors any time the syndicate needed an excuse for a party. I didn’t attend those, often occupied by a murdering spree, but tonight was different.

Tonight, I attendedformy murdering spree.

If I tracked him correctly, and I was rarely wrong, Dante disappeared down this corridor precisely four hours following the start of any event. Whether it was for peace of mind, or he was a secret introvert, all that mattered to me was that he would be alone.

I waited the full four hours just in case.

I was meticulously curled up on the farthest traditional red armchair, luring him out to a place with no cover.

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