Page 91 of Made to Sin

“Come on, it’s late. I’ll drive you home.”

One day, this— us— will be a memory I looked back on and cursed myself for the lack of self-control, but when he grabbed my hand and tugged me toward his warmth, I didn’t fight him. Blindly nodding, I was ready to follow him as long as he lured me with the promise of his affection.

My heart made a deal with the devil, and, tragically, there was no escape.

ITOLDMYSELFIWANTEDto snuff out the flames I held for Luciano.

Instead, I lit every possible one like I was an obsessive candle lover. Candles scented of sandalwood and musk.

The more I thought about it, the more it sounded like an addiction. I recently dropped cocaine, I didn’t need another replacement. That was if I could call him a replacement. Something in me warned that he would be much harder to quit.

However, it didn’t matter what those stupid anti-addiction ads preached because, unlike the night before, he didn’t let me go to my room when we got home. The minute we walked through the front door, he dragged me straight to his bed and fucked me roughly until I couldn’t remember why I wanted to stop crushing on him anyway.

Another, “Stay,” was all it took for me to lie in his arms as he lightly played with my hair like he wasn’t yanking on it seconds ago.

There might be a lingering scar on my heart once we were over, but it was worth it for how I melted into his arms tonight.

—

“Katarina, wake up,” a gravelly, male voice called for the third time in under a minute.

I let out a soft groan, rolled to the other side of the bed, and buried my head under a pillow. If there was one thing more annoying than the bottom of my heels breaking in the middle of an event, it was being woken up in the morning.

The man chuckled.

Then, he did the unspeakable when it came to waking someone up: open the black-out curtains. The harsh morning sun surrounded my sleeping form, seeped under the cracks of the pillow, and glared directly into my eyes.

Ugh.

Squinting past the drowsiness, I peeled my eyes open. Luciano stood in my line of vision, looking perfectly awake and ready for the morning in a fitted gray suit. I moved my attention to the alarm clock by the side of my head. Six thirty a.m.

Well, it was at least reassuring to know a man like Luciano had flaws. For one, he was dressed to the nines at six in the morning. Secondly, he woke people up by opening the curtains.

I sat up, scowling, as I met his gaze. “You better have a good reason for waking me up this early.”

A small smile played on his full lips. “I have a surprise for you, but we have to leave soon.”

A surprise for me? It could be an eggs-and-bacon breakfast for all I knew, but the easy grin playing on his lips scared me a little if I was being honest. He was not the type to be this cheerful.

“What surprise?” I asked warily.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

“I meant like a hint” —no I didn’t— “like what exactly should I wear to said surprise?”

He shrugged. “You look beautiful in anything.”

I tried to keep my lips from curving up, but the flush to my cheeks was a dead giveaway on how I felt. No wonder most serial killers were smooth talkers. Luciano’s charisma trapped me in a corner and revealed everything he wanted to know.

I half-heartedly rolled my eyes. “Be serious. Should I wear something comfortable, or is this a black-tie event?”

“Comfortable.”

“How comfortable?”

“Comfortable.”

As I was about to open my mouth again, he gave me a pointed look. “Stop trying to spoil the surprise, and go get ready. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

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