Page 9 of Made to Sin

For saying my name, I pushed the knife until I heard it reach the bone. For confessing, I pulled out my gun and shot him in the head.

While I trusted that it was Carlo’s doing, the rest of Andrea’s story was a pity fest I didn’t fall for. He didn’t give a shit about his wife or daughter. He had a mistress he was planning on running away with. He even wrote a fucking letter.

For the sake of the heartbroken widow and the little girl he left behind, I sent them ten thousand dollars as compensation and a sorry note instead. It was easier to grieve a loving death than one that ended with betrayal.

I wrapped up with Andrea and called some men to clean up the bloody scene, but I wasn’t finished. Carlo still owed me. Since he took something of mine, I would take something of his.

Stopping by a dingy gas station, I stacked my car with five cansof gasoline and a dollar lighter before driving across the borders to a port that belonged to my dear neighbor.

In an unpredictable fashion, I splashed gasoline over the area leading up to the port, trapping a few of his men at the end, and lit a single flame.

I hummed my way back into the car. A small heat hugged the space behind me as it slurped up the different trails of gasoline.

Within seconds, the starless night sky lit up with angry hues of red and white.

As I drove away with the makeshift light show in my rearview mirror, the National Anthem blasted through the radio. For the sake of irony, I turned the volume louder.

Dumping tea into the harbor, dumping cocaine into the harbor. Same difference.

Guess Independence Day came early this year.

WHENMARCOENTEREDMYROOMon a late Wednesday afternoon, I knew it was a bad sign. He hasn’t spoken to me— he even stopped hitting me for whatever drop of humanity he found in his heart— since the last beating after the event a month ago. There was no reason he needed to now.

“Do you need something, Marco?”

I didn’t look up at him, continuing to give my toenails another coat of white polish. White was a pain to paint, but the color was my favorite. It was true what people said, the difficult things in life held the most value.

“Get ready for a gala tonight.”

I raised my eyes to his face. “I don’t feel like it. Can I say no?” I sarcastically asked as if I had a choice in the matter.

“Don’t test me, Katarina,” he snarled through clenched teeth.

Similar to the rest of his commands, he left without giving me a chance to argue back. Jeez, someone couldn’t take a joke.

I leisurely finished painting the last coat on my toes and let them dry before getting ready, in no rush to get to the event.

Maria took the day off to tend to her sick cat, Paws, so I had to style myself. I rummaged to the corner of my closet, avoiding loose hangers, and pulled out my desired outfit. There was noneed to stifle through any other outfit tonight because I knew exactly what I wanted to wear.

A royal purple pantsuit.

I knew Marco would want me in some floor-length gown, standing next to him as a complimentary accessory, so I did the complete opposite. Modest yet enrapturing.

For the sake of ruining his image of an ideal wife, I added in the emerald necklace from last time. The boss hated reusing riches, and the green clashed with the purple. If anything, I’d blame the mockery on not knowing the color theory.

Though my spitefulness got me thus far, I was stuck on what to do next. Usually, by the time hair and makeup came around, Maria was too busy telling me to “stop moving” for me to pay any real attention.

I stared at my finally-clear face in the vanity mirror, and it hit me to boldly opt for no makeup. I’d had enough to cover up bruises for a lifetime. Who knew when the next time I would be able to do this?

One coat of clear gloss on my lips, and I called it a day. I was a bit hesitant to see how Marco would react to my choice of getting ready, but either he didn’t notice my subtle rebellion or didn’t care because he didn’t say a word when I sat next to him in the car.

—

We arrived at the same hotel as the last event, but it was still as intimidating as ever. The reminder of the trap that lay inside brought a shudder down my spine. It would be too soon if I saw Luciano again.

A cardboard sign caught my attention as Marco and I made our way through the entrance. I froze in my step, rereading the bold letters for mistakes. This gala wasn’t another meaningless mob event, it was a charity against violence.

“Don’t you dare try anything tonight,” Marco threatened ashe yanked my hand further down the corridor.

---