Page 6 of Made to Sin

I shrugged. “Satisfaction brought it back.”

“Want to test the theory? I kill you for being nosy, and you can try to come back,” he said, impatience pouring into each syllable.

My eyes crinkled. “Are you seriously threatening me?”

“Yes.”

I sighed and decided to drop our fruitless back-and-forth. The alcohol made me bold, not clueless. Someone had their panties in a twist, and I’d had it with Made Men taking their frustrations out on me for a lifetime.

“Well,Luciano, it was nice to meet you. It would have been nicer if you worked on your personality a bit, but nobody’s perfect. At least you have a pretty face to distract people from it.”

He didn’t bother replying to the snarky comment, judging me with clear disdain in his eyes as I spun on my heels to leave.

I had barely taken my seat when he came up shortly and sat fourchairs to my right. Wait, what? This was an exclusive table only the dons and their wives sat at. Who was he?

If he was a don, I would have already met him. Unless…

Merda. Please, Lady Luck, don’t tell me he’s who I think he is.

Sneaking a peek at his place card, I immediately turned pale. All alcoholic bravery dissipated into thin air as I confirmed he was none other than the new Beneveti boss in the flesh. No wonder he wasn’t the slightest bit aware of how he was speaking to me.

And of course, Marco with his big mouth had to “introduce” us right at this second. “Luciano, I don’t think you had a chance to meet my wife, Katarina.”

I internally cursed Lady Luck for her sheer evilness. I was screwed six ways to Sunday unless he had some goodness in his heart to forget what happened a minute ago.

For the love of God, please, don’t say we’d met.

He must have read my predicament off my face because he sinisterly smirked, tilting the whiskey glass he was holding toward me in condescending acknowledgment.

“Nice to meet you,Katarina.”

He drew out my name as I did to his earlier, except his was infinitely scarier.

Merda,I wasdefinitelyscrewed.

Dark amusement danced in his eyes as if he sensed my desperation, and his cooperation was a favor I had to repay. Technically, I got what I wished for, but why did it feel a million times worse?

I gave him a wide-eyed stare, unable to even fake a charm until Marco nudged my leg beneath the table. “The pleasure is mine,” I monotonously responded with a tight-lipped smile that probably looked more like a frown.

His expression morphed into a full grin, showing how thrilled he was to play this twisted game of pretend— a daring taunt if I’d ever seen one. “Ah, what the perfect wife you are.”

My smile grew tighter, pressing into a strict, firm line. Heaced his part as the quintessential gentleman, whereas I fell into the role of the awkward outcast.

It had been a while since anyone had gotten under my skin and affected my ability to put up a façade. I didn’t know if I liked him for the breath of fresh air he provided or disliked him for how transparent he made me feel.

The new boss was an enigma. No matter how hard I tried, my gaze gravitated toward his statuesque face throughout the event.

He never looked back, but he didn’t need to. His grin from earlier was puzzling enough. It followed me to bed that night and fermented inside my brain.

I had a pressing feeling that I should have kept my mouth shut from the beginning no matter how interesting he appeared.

ICONSIDERMYSELFASEASONEDMade Man. I’d been handling shitty situations since the age of thirteen without as much as a flinch. There was almost nothing I hadn’t done and nothing I hadn’t seen when it came to theCosa Nostra’sguidelines.

Yet a woman no taller than my chest, in stilettos at that, unnerved the fuck out of me.

Before the gala, I had some business that left my hands stained with gunpowder residue and some man’s blood. Since I hated being late, washing my hands down the hotel sink was going to have to make do. My sole intention was to reach the bathroom mess-free, even ignoring the pesky gasps and whispers from the crowd.

That was until I saw the most beautiful woman sitting by the bar. A small, round face and a body out of the cover of a Playboy magazine. I’d met models from all over the world, but she was poisonously attractive.

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