Page 96 of Made to Sin

“Okay,” he repeated, gauging my reaction.

I didn’t give him one, continuing to take small sips of water until there was nothing left. Then, I spun toward the sink, hiding my worry under the cover of washing my glass. Did I need to scrub it a million times with dish soap? No. Did I do it anyway? Yes. I even went as far as getting a paper towel to dry it rather than putting it on the dish rack.

By the time I finished, he had returned to his paper, no longer interested in my presence.

With nothing else to fidget with, I decided to go get ready for the ultimate disaster that was waiting to happen. I might as well take the phrase “drop-dead gorgeous” literally during my demise.

“Is Maria here?” I asked, hands bracing the countertop behind me for stability.

“No, I sent her home earlier. Call her back if you want.”

“It’s fine, I can get ready by myself.”

Though I sounded casual saying it, I was stressed out. It was going to be people’s first impression of me since Marco’s death. I didn’t want to be viewed as a grieving widow, which I wasn’t, nor did I want to be viewed as Luciano’s new whore, which was a bit trickier to argue with.

I pursed my lips at the inconvenience of not having Maria around to help me since she knew what to wear for every occasion, but I didn’t want to bother her during her time off.

Pushing off the counter, I went to my room without another peep. I guess I was on my own here.

—

Checking out my makeup and flattening out the last imaginary wrinkle on my emerald silk gown, I was happy with my appearance. It was an elegant yet comfortable look that showed I put some effort in but didn’t draw too much attention.

Today’s ideology: simple was more.

Luciano knocked on my bedroom door at six p.m. on thedot. If he expected me to be as on time as he was, he was in for a bitter surprise. It wasn’t that I was a late person, I just never made good time-management decisions— like stress-pacing for thirty minutes.

My mouth instantly dried at the sight in front of me. There weren’t nearly enough words in the English language to describe Luciano, but if I were to try, it would be utterly drool-worthy. He shaved his recent stubble, slicked his hair back, and even wore a little bow tie to top off the black, form-fitting tuxedo.

I could already see it, a lot of women were going to get their hearts broken tonight.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

I flushed redder than the pink shades of my makeup. No matter how many times someone told me I was easy to look at, Luciano had a way of targeting my heart and engraving his compliments there.

“I should be saying that about you,” I shyly responded.

He raised a palm to my cheeks, his thumb grazing over my blush. Thoughtfully, he murmured, “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I’m sure Eda won’t mind if we skip tonight.”

Don’t tell me I spent a decent chunk of my day getting ready, just so he could say we didn’t have to go.

I frowned. “Why would we skip it?”

His free hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. I swear, if he wrinkled my dress, he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. From what I could see, there was no ironing table nearby.

Though my opposition vanished as he brushed a kiss by my ear and whispered, “I can’t fuck you there.”

Oh, God.

No, I couldn’t let him distract me like this.

Shaking out of his hold, I firmly stated, “We’re going.”

He smirked. “You didn’t want to go a couple of hours ago.”

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