Page 99 of Made to Sin

For the first— and probably last— time, Sofia looked somewhat sorry for me with softer eyes and a neutral face.

“Word of advice, Katarina, next time you want to trysomething out of your comfort zone, don’t aim too high for the stars. You won’t reach them.”

Then, she walked away from me without sparing another glance.

You won’t reach themreplayed in my head like a broken record as I watched her retreat to my seat.

—

No matter what changed in my life, somehow it always led back to alcohol. As Sofia replaced me at the don’s table, I took her spot at the bar. But since I was already here, I might as well get myself a comforting treat.

I was in the middle of thinking about which overpriced, unhealthy beverage to order when I realized I didn’t bring money.

Merda, could this night get any worse?

Actually, I didn’t want to hear the answer to that. Lady Luck was rarely on my side, and I couldn’t afford to jinx myself further.

I searched around the room. There had to be one person willing to get me a drink, right? The money was going to charity, so it would be a good cause.

My eyes went in a full panorama before landing on Dante who seemed to be brooding on the last barstool by himself. Sympathies aside, I decided that he was my ticket to a free drink. The consigliere was loaded, so my request would be worth a penny to him.

I slid onto the seat next to his with a sole mission on my mind.

“Not having too much fun?” I greeted.

He turned his head to the side, seeing who dared to interrupt his misery fest. “Katarina, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Me neither,” I grumbled.

I knew it was a bad idea. The longer I was at this gala, the more I dissected every detail of my life. My panic attacks lessened after Marco’s death, but there was no guessing if tonight wasgoing to bring it back. Having anxiety was like holding a ticking bomb, uncertain of when it would explode.

Dante’s eyes raked from my dejected face to my slouched shoulders. “You look like you need a drink.”

“I do. Aren’t you amazing at your job? Only one detail is missing: money,” I proposingly said.

A corner of his lips tipped at my not-so-subtle attempt. “Order what you want, my treat.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Thank you.”

He nodded and returned to staring at his glass tumbler.

I ordered my usual martini. The bartenders were faster than I thought, placing the fruity drink in front of me within two minutes. I thirstily took my first sip, accidentally drinking more than a third of the cup. Though the refreshing abrasion was welcomed after the thoughts I’d been having.

Dante looked over, lifted a brow, and asked, “That bad?”

“Here I thought you were the one obviously brooding,” I deflatedly joked.

He let out a low, empty chuckle and entertained me. “I discovered something, and I can’t tell the person it affects without completely shattering their world. What’s your excuse?”

He also tried to lace his tone in humor, but the pain was evident. This someone he spoke of must be very special, or the information must be very heartbreaking to impact a cold and collected man such as himself.

Although he was easy to talk to, I was the most afraid of Dante out of the Made Men I’d met. That was saying a lot, considering I’d practically spent half of my life around them.

You could never guess what the consigliere was thinking, when he would strike. He was the king viper in a den full of poisonous snakes. It was a relief he considered me a friend and not a foe.

My nosy self wanted to ask him to elaborate, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood. I guess that was the extent of his sharing.

“You win. My problem is trivial in comparison— dealing with aggressive mob wives,” I lied.

---