Page 21 of Made to Sin

Soon after, he came to the same conclusion, folded, and signed the contract. “Fine, the port closest to your streets is yours. Get me some information first, and we’ll talk about the route later.”

I signed my end, letting out a satisfied smirk at how simple it was. No wonder he was a bad don, the fucker was too rash.

But, despite how misguided he was, a deal was a deal. “I’ll have one of my men look into it.”

I sent a text to my closest cousin and consigliere, Dante. He could get information on the Bartolos within the hour and provide us with a basis to work with.

On the outside, Dante was a mere advisor, a lawyer at best. Covertly, he was the brains behind most of the Beneveti’s affairs. As I said, a successful family relied on intellect, so if our enemies wanted to hurt us, he would be one of the best ways. However, it wasn’t worth it to target him since he was unsurprisingly hard to kill. Trust me, I’d tried.

Marco moved on to complaining about further messes within his family. He had fucked up a lot, and the meeting went on for another two hours with problems ranging from bad suppliers to restricted finances.

I was bored out of my mind.

When the last piece of paper from his stack finally landed on my side of the manila folder, I took the silent window to end the meeting. “We’ll discuss these topics again when I have more information.”

Marco nodded and placed his pen into the inside of his suit jacket. “When do you want to meet again?”

Another opening for me to choose... A devious idea of payment formed in my head, and before I could stop myself, I said it. “Sofia’s having a birthday party here next month, and she’d love to invite Katarina. Come with her, and we can talk then.”

“We’ll be there.”

Sofia would throw a fit if she knew I invited Katarina, but it was too late to change my mind. The devil on my shoulder had bigger things planned for the ignorant boss.

It was a good thing Marco didn’t trade me his wife. It would make my day to rip her from his dirty hands instead.

“ITMUSTMEANHE’SNOTinterested, right?”

“SenhorCamello will kill you if he finds out you are seeing other men,” Maria scolded, dusting off the nonexistent dust mites on my empty nightstand.

While she was tidying up my room, I was currently ranting to her about last weekend. She had gone to the grocery store that afternoon and had missed the horrific incident where I was pushed into the pool—plus the equally horrific incident of what happened afterward with Luciano.

I should have taken the embarrassment to the grave, but if I didn’t tell someone, I was going to go insane. By default, that left Maria to be sucked into the mess.

Although she worked under Marco, I trusted her not to tattle. Our loyalty to each other started a few years ago when I stole one of my husband’s high-end liquor bottles and drank my sorrows away. She found me vomiting my guts out and held my hair away from my face. We never spoke about why I blew up or the three-hundred-thousand-dollar wine I wasted. It became our little secret, and as the years passed, I trusted her with more.

“I’m not seeing other men per se. I just want to explore new things. You know I saved my virginity for this marriage, and hewon’t even touch me. It’s not that I want him to, but a girl has needs,” I explained, picking stray lint off of my black leggings.

“Needs? Your little toys can do that.”

Of course, the barely upright lady would be the one to call a six-inch dildo little.

“Maria, I told you don’t go through my private box.”

I groaned when she tapped said box under the bed with her foot, emphasizing that she didn’t care.

“Go to your workout class before you are late. This nonsense will get you killed, silly girl.”

“Fine, but we’ll continue this later.”

I swung my leg off the bed and gave Maria a quick peck on the cheek before heading out.

Marco finally gave me the go-ahead to start Pilates at a new studio since my old one closed down. He probably paid the instructor extra to keep tabs on me, but it was better than not going at all.

I had been slacking on my workouts, and my pants were seeing the consequences of it. The last time I tried to wear jeans, they wouldn’t close. I swore then and there, I was going to lay off dark chocolate. I read somewhere it was a good detoxer and had accidentally built an addiction. Turns out, when you ate too much, it was as bad as eating regular candy.

Arnold greeted me by the driveway with the tinted SUV’s backseat door opened. I hopped in, ready to leave behind this place for my one hour of freedom. I knew working out had a lot of other benefits, but my favorite was getting to leave my cage.

I stared out the window as we passed the gates of the mansion and onto the suburban streets. The studio wasn’t far from the house, a fifteen-minute drive max from what Arnold said.

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