Page 22 of Secret Sin

There she was again. The voice of reason. She’d been goading me for days, but I couldn’t seem to summon the confidence to make that first move. Did he hate me for being insensitive? Could he really care for me if he’d been willing to share me? All my doubts were quicksand, keeping me mired down in uncertainty.

I passed each day in a hazy melancholy, hiding in my room. The following Saturday, however, was to be spent almost entirely at a family wedding—a blessing and a curse. The Lucciano crime family, the most secretive and solitary of the Five Families, was hosting a massive gathering to celebrate the wedding of Alessia Genovese, one of the boss’s daughters. The intrigue surrounding their family and rarity of such a unified event was a welcome distraction. But at the same time, a day spent gushing over love and forevers felt like the worst kind of torture because a niggling splinter of truth wedged its way further under my skin every day, screaming at me that I was allowing my chance at true happiness to slip between my fingers.

I’d wanted my independence, but at what expense? What if I had, as my mother used to say, cut off my nose to spite my face? Did exploring all that life had to offer necessarily preclude me from a relationship? Wasn’t that, in fact, one of the many facets of life I was looking to sample?

Deep in my gut, I knew the answer.

Seeing the bride and groom so happy together brought tears to my eyes. I was thrilled for them and upset with myself. I tried to convince myself that even if I couldn’t fix things with Bishop, I’d learned a valuable lesson. That either way, I was better off. But when the dancing began, and a handsome young man asked me to dance, I didn’t feel better off at all. I felt awkward and icky. I should have been flattered to have been approached. The guy was cute, and he knew how to move, yet all I wanted to do was cry because it wasn’t his arms I wanted around me.

Sensing the sting of tears in the back of my throat, I apologized in a rush, then fled for the ballroom exit. My departure didn’t go unnoticed. A minute later, the oldest of my two little sisters joined me on a bench in the grand hotel hallway.

“Want to talk about it?” Aria asked, bumping my shoulder.

“Not sure it’ll do any good.”

“I’m assuming this is about that gorgeous hunk of a man who came to the house?” she asked with a hint of teasing.

“Yup.”

“He hurt you? ’Cause … I know a guy.”

Her joke was so unexpected that I coughed out a laugh that edged on a sob. “Not necessary, but thanks. And besides, I’m just as guilty as he is. We’ve both made such a mess of things.”

“It may be trite, but dude, there are so many fish in the sea. Have you looked on Tinder lately?”

I gaped at her. “Ari! You have a Tinder account? You’re only seventeen!” Dad would have an aneurysm if he found out.

“It’s just a profile,” she tried to assure me. “I don’t have to interact with anyone if I don’t want to. Aren’t you even a little bit curious about what’s out there?” She pulled out her phone and opened the app.

I was stunned my little sister had been so adventurous and a tiny bit fascinated with the images of the men who came up. We laughed at a few, and several might have piqued my interest had I seen them weeks earlier, but that wasn’t the case now. None of them were what I wanted. None of them were Bishop.

“Come on, let’s start a profile for you. It’s super easy. I can even do it for you.”

“No. I’m not interested, but thanks.” I smiled. It was sweet of her to try to help. I only wished it were that easy.

Aria shrugged and stood. “I suppose that leaves us no choice then.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked warily.

“Yup. The only thing left to do … is dance. Come on.” She clasped my hands and pulled me back toward the enormous ballroom where Bruno Mars had everyone grooving to “Uptown Funk.”

I wasn’t as close to my sisters as I was to Noemi, but they were still my sisters, and they knew how to cheer me up. After the chicken dance and a boisterous rendition of “We are Family,” I felt a touch more like my optimistic self.

“You ever gonna getoff that phone and get back in the ring with me?” I barked at Callum. “I thought you were just taking a breather.”

“Are you kidding?” He stared up at me incredulously. “Not when you’re wound up the way you are. I’ll lose a fuckin’ kidney. You still haven’t sorted things out with Pippa?”

A snarl teased at my upper lip as I rested my forearms on the top rope and dropped my gaze to the floor. “Just trying to practice some fucking self-restraint,” I grumbled. “You really done for the day?”

I could have spent the entire day in the ring and not fully extinguished all my pent-up frustration. A week away from Pippa hadn’t been easy. She needed to think, and so did I. Not whether I wanted her—that was etched in my DNA for some godforsaken reason. What I had to figure out was how to get her to see me. To apologize and make her understand what we could have together.

“Yeah, man. I’m gonna find some entertainment for the night, then head home.” His thumb swiped almost rhythmically on his phone's screen, only occasionally pausing. “Hold up.” His eyes narrowed as he studied something. “I’ll be damned.” He held up the device, displaying an image of Pippa.

My blood ran cold.

“Is that fuckingTinder?” I barked, losing all vestiges of control.

“Yeah, man,” he said warily. “But there’s no telling when the profile was created or if she’s even active.”

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