Page 55 of Made to Sin

My mouth fell ajar, but his cool tone didn’t miss a beat. Was he seriously asking me to beg in this situation? Lord, please give me patience because this man was insufferable.

“Is this all a joke to you?”

“Where are your manners?”

Banging my head against the bar counter, I accepted that I was doomed. Trying to reason with this man was like explaining history to an infant. It goes through one ear and out the other.

“Go to Hell,” I muttered in agitation.

Suddenly, out of nowhere and without a sound, his dress shoes touched my contrasting pumps like magic.

Lifting my head from the marble, my gaze swept up his body in the process. Dressed in his black, unwrinkled suit, it was no wonder I couldn’t see him. This man blended too effortlessly with the shadows.

“I couldn’t hear you from so far away, sweetheart. What did you say?” He had a Cheshire grin on his annoyingly handsome face, telling me he heard what I had said and was egging me on.

I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind but remembered my predicament. Pride aside, I needed a place to stay before it got dark. Arnold always took me where I wanted, so I didn’t evenknow the street names in New York. I was not going to survive the night by myself.

“I said, can you help me find a place to stay tonight?”

He smirked. “You’re still forgetting something.”

Clenching my jaw until my teeth shook, I gave in. “Please.”

“Look at what a good girl you are when you use your words.”

Involuntarily, I hummed at the praise and prayed he didn’t hear it. It was already humiliating to beg, there was no sane explanation for why my body liked it.

Flashbacks of what had happened the last time we were in this spot erupted in my head. Cynically, I wondered now that my husband was dead, would he fuck me this time?

“What did I tell you about those eyes, Katarina?” His once velvety voice conformed into a strained grate. It was like he was forcing himself not to engage in whatever I was thinking, and I bathed in the fact that he was as affected as I was.

Seeing him fight the attraction to me should have caused a distaste, but it only made me more eager for him to finally cave in.

I pretended to be clueless. “What are you talking about?”

He gave his head a small shake, avoiding the subject, and bent down to grab my bag. “Let’s go.”

Did that mean I had a place to stay tonight?

A gut feeling told me this decision would turn my life upside down. But during the loneliest times, darkness was the best comfort.

Not giving him time to change his mind, I jumped up on my feet and hurriedly followed him to the exit.

LUCIANO’SBLACKMERCEDESSATBYthe curb in all its glory.

Every time I’d seen him, a new car followed. Despite not knowing they were his, each car had its own inarguable presence. They reeked of so much wealth, I doubted a bird would dare to land a poop on the shiny paint.

I scoffed at the irony that even his belongings were pretentious.

He tossed my duffel into the trunk and, like the gentleman I knew he wasn’t, opened the passenger door for me.

I hesitated, afraid of being confined in such a small space with him, but scolded myself for the ridiculousness and slid onto the warm leather seat. I wasn’t prepared for the immediate infiltration of sandalwood and musk.

Seriously, what cologne did he use?

My head sunk into the seat as I took a minute to enjoy the smell. I was going into sensory overload and never wanted to leave. It only made me more light-headed when he got in next to me.

Being a mere few inches away, I had to hold in the urge to shift to the side. That bit lasted a whole two seconds before crumbling apart. No matter how many times we’d been alone together, I was still awkwardly fidgety. Sitting in his car felt so normal, so domestic, it brought a wave of unexplainablediscomfort.

---