ã€ŠMr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Seriesã€‹


 Mr. Sin: Chapter 1

    Seeing my brother¡¯s name light up the screen, I spend a moment debating the option of not answering. It¡¯s a short debate. If I don¡¯t pick up now, he¡¯ll just keep calling.

    With a sigh, I answer the phone. ¡°Hey, loser.¡±

    There¡¯s a brief pause before he responds. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re in a bar.¡±

    ¡°How very investigative of you.¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m in one of the hotel bars. It¡¯s a nice establishment. Hardly any crime.¡±

    John ignores my sarcasm. ¡°You with your boss?¡±

    It¡¯s my turn to pause.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± I can picture the vein throbbing in his forehead as he says my name.

    I may have turned 30 earlier this year, but I¡¯ll always be his baby sister. And he treats me ordingly.

    ¡°We parted ways literally two minutes ago. We have to get up early to catch the shuttle, and you know how she is, one drink limit and 8 hours of sleep,¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Smart woman. I take it you¡¯ll be heading up to your room now.¡± He doesn¡¯t phrase it like a question.

    I resist the urge to pull on my hair. ¡°Not yet. I heard about this fancy little sex den around the corner that I wanted to check out. Need to capitalize on the whole what happens in Vegas thing.¡±

    ¡°Cute, Sasha. Really cute.¡±

    I can¡¯t help butugh. He¡¯s too easy to rile up. ¡°Don¡¯t get your panties in a twist. I¡¯m going to have one ss of wine then I¡¯ll head to bed.¡± I nce around the bar that I just stepped into. It was ast-minute decision as we walked through the lobby on our way back from dinner, but I refuse to apologize for wanting to have a little fun. ¡°I¡¯m trying to enjoy myst evening of vacation.¡±

    John huffs. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure you can call it a vacation. A single night in a hotel for a bunch of work meetings isn¡¯t exactly rxing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s more rxing than it could¡¯ve been. Seriously, I¡¯m lucky Cheryl didn¡¯t try to fly us home on a red eye tonight,¡± I admit. ¡°Plus, if I ever actually took a vacation, you¡¯d just badger me about being alone the whole damn time.¡±

    I¡¯m not exaggerating about either point. I was shocked that Cheryl booked us rooms for tonight. We caught the 6:00 a.m. flight this morning to spend all day sitting through meetings. But even after an excruciatingly early morning, my boss would normally make us fly home that same day. So, I¡¯m going to enjoy my night of freedom. Away from home. Away from responsibility.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say to travel alone,¡± John replies.

    If he were here, instead of in Chicago, I¡¯d flick him in the forehead. ¡°Oh gee, why didn¡¯t I think of that? Hey, maybe I¡¯ll find a nice gentleman tonight at that sex den who¡¯ll want to go away with me. Next decade. When I have some time off.¡±

    ¡°Ha. Ha.¡± John says with only a touch of humor.

    ¡°Goodnight, John.¡±

    ¡°Go to your room, sister.¡±

    I smirk as I hang up. My big brother is annoying as hell, but he means well. He just doesn¡¯t understand when being protective bes overprotective.

    ¡°Boyfriend?¡±

    I hear the voice right as a handnds on my lower back.

    Instinct has me quickly stepping away before turning to face the culprit.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I cross my arms over my chest.

    ¡°On the phone. Was that your boyfriend?¡±

    I look the man over as I ponder the best way to brush him off. He looks like your typical sleazy casino guy. We aren¡¯t technically in a Casino, but the rule still fits. He has shiny thinning hair, a belly straining a too-tight shirt with the top 3 buttons undone, highlighting a gold chainying across a bunch of greying chest hair.

    I decide direct is the best way to address this problem. ¡°I appreciate the interest, but that¡¯s really none of your business.¡±

    The man pulls his head back, as if I hit him, transforming his double chin into a triple. I give him a tight smile before turning away.

    I make it a few steps closer to the bar before I hear his voice again.

    ¡°How about I buy you a drink and you can tell me all about him.¡±

    I don¡¯t stop or look back. ¡°No, thank you.¡±

    What is with some guys? What part of my attitude makes him think that I want him to keep trying? I shake my head to myself. Sometimes I wish I had just half the confidence that these creepy men wrongfully possess.

    This time, the hand precedes the voice. His fingers wrap around my elbow, halting my walk. ¡°Come on now, that¡¯s not very nice. I¡¯m just offering to buy you a drink.¡±

    I jerk my arm away and spin back to face him. The sudden move has my brte locks falling across my face.

    I jerkily brush my hair out of the way and narrow my eyes while using my best fuck off voice. ¡°Look buddy, keep your hands to yourself. ept my no and leave me alone.¡±

    As a woman I know there¡¯s a fine line between fending off unwanted attention and provoking aggressive behavior. It¡¯s not fair, but it is what it is. I may have gone too far just now but I¡¯m not always great at reigning in my temper.

    The man puts his hands up, a look of amusement shing across his face. Jackass.

    I don¡¯t wait for him to respond, and I don¡¯t look around at the other patrons who might be watching us. Even with the semi-loud music ying I¡¯m sure we are making a bit of a scene. Now I really need that ss of wine.

    Spotting a couple of open stools at the bar, I head towards them. I¡¯d rather converse with the bartender than sit at a table and have to fend off more greasy mobster-wannabes.

    Just as I¡¯m reaching to pull the stool out, I feel something brush against my arm. Preparing to tell off this jerk yet again, I turn my head towards the movement. Only instead ofing face to face with Mr. Idiot, I see him awkwardly bend away from me before he swiftly tips forward and facents into the bar top. The thud of face against wood is muted, but his groan is audible above the din of chatter.

    My mouth is open. I¡¯m literally standing ck-jawed, wondering what in the hell just happened. Mr. Idiot is facing me, his cheek smashed into the hard surface, with his lips puckered into a lewd pout. It takes my brain a beat to notice therge hand on the back of his head, holding him in ce. It takes another beat for me to realize that Idiot¡¯s arm is wrenched behind his back, held in ce by anotherrge hand.

    Continuing their path, my eyes trace up what can only be described as arm porn. Thick muscled forearms are framed by the rolled-up cuff of shirt sleeves. Said sleeves are left straining in their attempt to contain bunched biceps. Large, rounded shoulders connect those arms to a broad, solid-looking chest.

    I force my mouth closed so I can swallow. This man¡¯s upper body alone is causing me to salivate.

    My eyes skip up the buttons of his shirt to a corded neck. Above which is a firm chin covered in more than a shadow, less than a beard. His lips are full, tipped into a small frown and sinfully sexy. As if beckoned, my gaze snaps up and I find myself looking into the eyes of the Devil.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 2

    He may not be the actual Lucifer, but his aura says he might be. Either way, the man is fine. Like drop-dead-gorgeous level of fine. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His nearly ck hair is styled back in that way that only certain men are able to pull off. It has that tousled, carefree, just-fucked look. It¡¯s shorter on the sides, but long enough that I can see a little bit of curl around the base of his neck. But it¡¯s not the perfect hair, or the strong jaw, or the warrior¡¯s body that makes him look like he belongs in the underworld. It¡¯s his eyes. They¡¯re captivating. Shining with fury. And so dark they look like pools of onyx. If the eyes truly are the window to a person¡¯s soul, then this man is made of sin. One heartbeat with him and I¡¯m torn between running away or dropping to my knees.

    ¡°Apologize.¡±

    Hismand stuns me, but I note that his voice sounds just as sinful as he looks. Deep. Dark. Direct.

    I nearly reply, not sure what I¡¯m apologizing for but willing to anyway, when his gaze flicks to Mr. Idiot. Oh, right, this other guy. I see the Devil tighten his grip in Idiot¡¯s hair. And fuck if that doesn¡¯t have me picturing the Devil behind me, hand twisting my locks into a makeshift ponytail, forcing my head back¡­

    My thighs clench.

    ¡°I said, apologize.¡± The Devil growls.

    I look back to Mr. Idiot¡¯s face, registering the panic in his eyes. And just like that, I understand what happened. This jerk wasing back to grab me, again, and the Devil intervened. My dark hero.

    ¡°I¡¯m s-sorry.¡± Mr. Idiot stammers, but with his lips smashed against the bar it¡¯s hard to understand him.

    Using more bravado than I feel, I lean in. ¡°Come again? I couldn¡¯t quite make that out.¡±

    As Mr. Idiot mumbles another apology, I dart a look at the Devil. He¡¯s staring straight at me, with a wicked trace of a smile on his face. And goddamnit, that tilt of his lips makes him even hotter.

    We keep our eyes locked on each other for a beat longer thanfortable, both ignoring the idiot, pressed face-first against the bar.

    I feel like my pulse must be visible in my neck with how fast my heart is beating. Thankfully, the Devil breaks our staring contest first.

    ¡°Excuse us.¡± He says with a slight nod of his head in my direction.

    Without waiting for a response, he steps away, pulling the other man with him. I watch in rapt attention as the Devil hauls his prisoner back through the crowd.

    He drags the jerk over to a pair of men in matching ck polo shirts. The size of their necks indicate that they¡¯re security. Mr. Idiot looks like he¡¯s trying to say something, but the Devil leans close and talks directly into his ear. I¡¯m too far away to hear what he¡¯s saying, but I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s not pleasant since Mr. Idiot¡¯s face drains of all color.

    The Devil hands him off to the security giants, but instead of turning back my way, he follows them towards the exit.

    Realizing that I¡¯m standing here staring, I nce around for the first time since this whole ordeal started. There¡¯s a crowd of people still watching the Devil, but no one¡¯s looking at me. Either they don¡¯t know my involvement, or they¡¯re all too enamored with the sexy mystery man to care about some random woman.

    Shaking my head, I turn my back on the action and im a seat at the bar.

    The bartender, who saw everything, gives me a small smile. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you could use a drink. What¡¯ll it be?¡±

    ¡°A ss of red, please. Any kind.¡±

    He nods and steps away without furtherment. As a seasoned bartender, I¡¯m sure he can sense that my nerves are close to snapping and that my need for alcohol is immediate.

    My hands are trembling as I set my small purse onto the bar. The adrenaline from the fight or flight confrontation is starting to wear off, and it¡¯s leaving me shaky.

    I debate cancelling my drink and calling it a night, but before I have time to act, the bartender returns with my wine.

    ¡°Here you are, miss. I selected my favorite Cabe for you. Thought the bold vor might suit you well this evening.¡±

    I smile. Both at his sentiment and the fact that he called me miss rather than ma¡¯am. Taking a sip, I conclude that the bartender is a genius. This is exactly what I needed. Another swallow of wine and my shoulders start to rx.

    My phone buzzes in my purse. Extracting it, I see that my brother has texted me a news article about the crime rates in Vegas after midnight. Luckily for me, it¡¯s not even 10:00pm. I don¡¯t reply, instead shoving my phone back into my clutch. If I start a conversation with him now, I¡¯ll end up telling him about what just happened, and then my brother will utterly lose it. More testosterone is not what I need tonight.

    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Good grief, that Devil of a man was intimidating. And attractive. Probably for the best that he disappeared. I¡¯m grateful for the role of protector that he yed, but I¡¯m not fool enough to think he did it for me. I mean yes, I was the damsel in distress in the scenario, but I imagine he has a saviorplex. Or he just hates men who grope women. Or his sister had a simr experience. Or girlfriend. And of course, he has a girlfriend, there¡¯s no way that man is unattached. Actually, a man like that probably has multiple girlfriends. I bet they all look like lingerie models, not big-hipped, cat-owning, public rtions consultants who vacation alone in hotel bars.

    Keeping my eyes closed I heave out another sigh and push out those toxic thoughts. Just as my mind clears, I feel the presence, rather than see it.

    ¡°Are you okay, sweetheart?¡±

    My slowing pulse spikes once more. I don¡¯t have to see him. I recognize the voice. The Devil just called me sweetheart. I mentally p myself. Get it together, woman! The man did a good deed and is simply following up.

    Opening my eyes, I do my best to act casual. ¡°I am. Thanks to you.¡±

    His appearance is just as jarring now, as it was the first time Iid eyes on him. Only this time he¡¯s standing closer. Too close. His dark eyes studying me intently. Searching for the lie in my words.

    ¡°Really, I¡¯m okay.¡± I force a small smile onto my face. ¡°Can I buy you a drink?¡±

    Somehow, his face gets even more serious. I can¡¯t read the emotion. Disapproval? Disappointment? My cheeks flush when I understand how inappropriate my offer must¡¯ve sounded. Here he was, saving me from unwanted advances and the second Mr. Idiot disappears I basically hit on the guy.

    I instantly backpedal. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean it like that. I meant to offer a drink as a thank you. Payment for your services or whatnot. You wouldn¡¯t have to drink it with me.¡± And just like that, I¡¯m rambling.

    I mp my mouth shut and turn forward. Attention on my wine. Maybe if I stop talking and pretend he isn¡¯t there, he¡¯ll fade away and I can believe none of this ever happened.

    Spinning the stem of my wine ss, I watch through my periphery as he pulls out the stool next to mine. What is he doing? He can¡¯t honestly want to sit here. With me. But that¡¯s exactly what he does. Now I¡¯m really lost. Do I start over? Run away as fast as I can?

    I try not to notice how graceful he is, as he seats himself next to me. His foot bumps against the leg of my stool, and I think it¡¯s on purpose.

    ¡°No.¡± His gravelly voice sounds beside me.

    That¡¯s it. That¡¯s all he says.

    Ugh, time to woman up. Pretending my high-waisted ck pants and emerald silk blouse give me superpowers, I slowly turn in my seat. He¡¯s already turned himself towards me, so I find myself facing the Devil head on.

    Meeting his eyes, I stay silent. I may have sounded like a simpering nitwit a moment ago, but I¡¯m going to act like a mature adult now.

    The side of his mouth pulls up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but no. I can¡¯t let you buy me a drink. Call me old fashioned.¡±

    That¡¯s not exactly a clear answer. Old fashioned like he won¡¯t let a woman pay? Or old fashioned like he¡¯s married and he won¡¯t have a drink with a woman who isn¡¯t his wife? Or old fashioned like he¡¯s a rich attractive man who¡¯ll only drink with startlingly gorgeous women half his age?

    The bartender interrupts my musing. ¡°Sir, is there something you¡¯d like?¡±

    First the bartender calls me miss, now he calls the Devil sir. He¡¯s so damn proper with these titles.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have what she¡¯s having,¡± the Devil says as he gestures towards my wine.

    And then before I can object, he hands the bartender cash. I wasn¡¯t prepared for it, so I didn¡¯t get a good look, but it seemed like a lot more money than necessary. Either that or drinks here are way more expensive that I thought.

    ¡°It was kind of you to offer.¡± The Devil says to me. ¡°I can¡¯t recall thest time a beautiful woman offered to pay for my drink. But I can¡¯t in good conscience let the woman pay.¡± I open my mouth to argue, but he holds up one of hisrge hands. ¡°I¡¯m all for equality, but until the ss ceiling breaks and women make the same as men, dor for dor, I¡¯ll be the one buying.¡±

    Well, shit. He¡¯s stunning and progressive. And let¡¯s not forget that he called me beautiful. I don¡¯t even know what to say to all that.

    The bartender sets down the ss of wine with a nod towards me. ¡°I think you broke her, sir.¡±

    The Devil smirks.

    I blink away the shock. ¡°My apologies. With how easily you handled Mr. Idiot back there I was expecting you to be more of a macho, pretty-body-empty-brain caveman type. Not, well, not whatever the hell you are. Some sort of goddamn unicorn.¡±

    Just as I think I may have stepped too far out of line; his lips pull into a full smile. ¡°You think I have a pretty body?¡±

    Feeling the tension break, I roll my eyes. ¡°If that¡¯s all you heard then maybe my original assessment was correct.¡±

    ¡°No taking it back. You called me a unicorn, it¡¯s on the record now.¡±

    ¡°On the record? Okay, counselor.¡± I study him closer. ¡°So, who¡¯s the girl? There¡¯s got to be at least one woman in your life to make you so attuned to things like harassment and equal pay.¡±

    If I wasn¡¯t staring at him so intently, I would have missed his smile tightening.

    ¡°My mom is very¡­ let¡¯s call it outspoken.¡± His tone is still light, but I can feel its fakeness.

    ¡°Moms will be like that -¡± I reply.

    ¡°Is it safe to assume you¡¯re here for work?¡± he asks, his eyes doing a quick sweep of my body.

    His sudden change of topic is obvious, but I don¡¯t fight it. Even though I ditched my ck suit jacket after dinner, I still look very much like the businesswoman that I am. I don¡¯t have many vices, but clothes are one of them. Luckily, I make enough money to indulge myself. My style tends towards simple but tailored. entuating the curves I like and hiding the ones I don¡¯t.

    I nod. ¡°I am here for work, but tonight is my vacation. And as with any good vacation, I¡¯d rather not talk shop.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more.¡± The Devil said, sounding sincere.

    I probably shouldn¡¯t continue to call him the Devil in my head, one of these times I might say it out loud.

    As if he can read my mind, he extends his hand. ¡°I¡¯m Vincent. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    When my palm slides against his, I feel the friction all the way to my center. His hand is sorge that mine disappears inside his grip. His fingers are warm. His hold on me firm. The rough spots are a wee surprise. He¡¯s a man who knows how to use his hands.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± My voicees out breathy.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± Vincent repeats. My name sounds like pure decadence on his lips.

    I roll Vincent¡¯s name in my mind and find that it fits. I¡¯ve never known a Vincent before. It¡¯s unique, dark, and a touch exotic. There¡¯s a chance that I might be projecting.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I tell him. ¡°I mean it. If you hadn¡¯t intervened, I¡¯m not sure what would¡¯ve happened.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to thank me, but since you seem to insist, you¡¯re wee. I¡¯m only sorry I didn¡¯t break his arms sooner.¡±

    ¡°Is that what told those security guys to do to him? Take him out back and break his arms?¡± I raise an eyebrow.

    ¡°Now, now, Sasha. No work talk, remember.¡± He scolds yfully.

    Iugh. Cute, smart, and witty. This guy has to have a bad side. He needs to. It¡¯s not fair to the rest of us mere mortals if he¡¯s really this perfect.

    I decide to change the topic as abruptly as he did earlier. ¡°So, Vincent, what¡¯s thest book you read?¡±

    When he chuckles, the vibrations make me realize that I¡¯m still clinging to his hand. I let go, but Vincent is slower to release. The slow glide of skin on skin feels horribly erotic and I do my best to stop the shiver that crawls up my arm.

    ¡°Thest book, hmm? I¡¯m a bit embarrassed to say that I don¡¯t remember the name of it. But it was a Mark Greaney novel. I usually have at least one thriller going at a time.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. I¡¯ll admit there are books I¡¯ve read without ever looking at the title.¡± I said, telling theplete truth.

    ¡°And you? What¡¯s thest book you read?¡± He asks.

    ¡°A J.D. Robb novel. I don¡¯t remember the title either.¡± I lie.

    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡± Vincent narrows his eyes on me.

    I shrug. ¡°Perhaps.¡± I¡¯m not going to admit to a title with the word naked in it. Not to him. Not right now.

    Vincent¡¯s heated look causes a swarm of butterflies to take flight in my uterus. I take another sip of wine to calm them.

    ¡°Do you prefer physical books or the digital versions?¡± He asks.

    ¡°Both.¡±

    ¡°Exin.¡±

    I don¡¯t know how a single wordmand can be sexy, but with Vincent speaking it, it is.

    ¡°I get all of my favorites as physical books. But I love the ease of a digital novel. Being able to finish one book in a series and immediately start the next is my kind ofzy convenience. Not to mention having the app on my phone. Like right now for example, say you start to bore me, but I¡¯m not done with my wine yet.¡± I tip my head towards my ss.

    ¡°Extremely likely -¡± Vincent grins.

    ¡°Indeed. And if that¡¯s the case I simply pull out my phone and start reading. Couldn¡¯t do that with a real book.¡± I gesture towards my small purse.

    ¡°I concede to your reasoning.¡± Vincent gives me a slight bow, never breaking eye contact. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best not to bore you.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 3

    One hour and another ss of wer, I can solemnly swear I have not been bored. In fact, I¡¯mpletely taken by Vincent. He¡¯s so much more than just a lickable face. He¡¯s smart. Like genius level smart. And clever. Not sure he¡¯s funny exactly, he¡¯s too guarded for that, but my oh my he¡¯s a fun time. And he¡¯s even closer. Closer than he was when he first sat down.

    The volume of the crowd around us has increased, and instead of talking louder, we¡¯ve gravitated towards each other. At one point, Vincent reached over and single-handedly pulled my stool closer to his. The arm strength he demonstrated had me biting my lip. We were still facing each other so he had to spread his legs in order to amodate my knees. And now with one arm on the bar and one stretched to the backrest of my chair, he has me trapped. I¡¯m surrounded by his heat. His scent. His overwhelming presence. And I¡¯d willingly drown in it.

    I¡¯m ming my next words on that. On the fact that he¡¯s muddied my senses and made me nearly suicidal with lust.

    ¡°Vincent¡­¡± I pause, then swallow down my nerves. ¡°Would you like toe up to my room?¡±

    I swear his impossibly ck eyes darken.

    Instead of answering, he stands. He doesn¡¯t push his stool back. He doesn¡¯t turn. He just stands. He¡¯s tall. Taller than I remember. His legs are still straddling mine, now with more contact than before. He ces a hand on the back of my arm, pulling me up to join him.

    On my feet, I catalog the fact that the top of my heades up to about his shoulder. With my five-foot five frame, I¡¯d put him well over six feet. But instead of feeling frightened, I feel safe. I know I shouldn¡¯t. I don¡¯t really know him. I definitely shouldn¡¯t have invited him to my room. I should walk away. But I won¡¯t. I¡¯m sick of ying it safe. I¡¯m sick of nights alone. I¡¯m sick of boring.

    Bolstered, I tip my head back to look Vincent in the eye. He leans in and I think he¡¯s about to kiss me. My breath catches and my lips part. But he stops short, reaching for something behind me.

    ¡°Can¡¯t forget your purse.¡± Vincent says, holding out the offending item.

    Fighting a blush, I take it. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Come.¡±

    Again, with the one-wordmands. His tone is demanding but not demeaning. He¡¯s either a very direct man or one who¡¯s used to getting his way. Probably both. But I don¡¯t mind. Come is precisely what I n on doing. And because I don¡¯t want to overthink this, I¡¯ll willingly take hismands all night.

    Vincent grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me through the crowd.

    I know we¡¯re on our way to have sex, but there¡¯s something about the way he¡¯s holding my hand that feels so intimate. So familiar.

    I mentally chide myself. This might be my first real one-night stand, but I¡¯m no blushing virgin. I can¡¯t go into this overthinking every detail. I need to go into tonight with one thing on my mind. And one thing only. Pleasure.

    After passing through the entrance of the bar, we end up in the main lobby of therge hotel. It¡¯s actually more than a hotel, basically an event center, but thinking about this building would mean thinking about work. And work is not important. Not tonight.

    Vincent turns right and it takes me a few steps before I realize that the elevators for my floor are the other direction.

    I tug on his arm. ¡°Um, we¡¯re going the wrong way.¡±

    Vincent nces down at me but keeps walking. ¡°My room is this way. Hope you don¡¯t mind.¡± His tone is sincere, but he doesn¡¯t slow his steps.

    I feel like I should argue, but really what difference does it make? It¡¯s a hotel room. Not a dungeon. Not a cabin in the woods. And since I wasn¡¯t nning to hook up with a stranger, I didn¡¯t bring a single condom with me. Hell, I don¡¯t think I even have any in my apartment. A guy like Vincent, he probably has one on him, but at the very least he¡¯d have one in his room.

    Ifort myself by thinking that this way, when we¡¯re done, I can leave and go back to my own room. Hopefully, I¡¯ll have time to catch a few hours of sleep.

    Pleasure. I remind myself. I¡¯m 30 not 80. I can survive a night of little sleep, especially if the price is an orgasm. Or better yet, orgasms. Oh, pretty please let there be multiple.

    Vincent leads us around a corner to a pair of elevators I hadn¡¯t noticed before, swiping a card to open the doors. Stepping inside he swipes his card again and the car starts to rise. No buttons pressed. Curious.

    The ride up is swift and silent. The heat radiating from our palms has crawled up my arm and infused my entire body with awareness.

    When the elevator doors open, we step out together.

    This must be an expensive floor to stay on since I can only see a handful of doors. Vincent halts us to unlock his door and my brain¡¯s so focused on the promise of sex, that I nearly miss the man standing against the wall a few feet down the hallway. The man nods a greeting to Vincent but doesn¡¯t look at me. His clothing and demeanor make me think he must be part of the security team I saw downstairs. Strange that he¡¯s hanging out up here, but if these are high-roller rooms then I guess it would make sense.

    The second I step into the room, correction rooms, I know this is a world above where I¡¯m staying. Vincent must be doing well for himself because this is clearly a pricey suite. And if the view out of the floor to ceiling windows is any hint, I¡¯d say we¡¯re on the top floor.

    I only realize that my steps have slowed when my arm is tugged forward. Vincent¡¯s still holding my hand. And we¡¯re heading straight for the bedroom.

    My heart rate picks up. This is it. This man is mine for the night. And I¡¯m going to be his. I have no idea why this intimidating, sexy creature is interested in me, but I don¡¯t care. I¡¯m done second guessing myself.

    The bedroom is just as grand as the rest of the space. The king-sized bed is centered in the room, looking out over the city. There¡¯s an open bathroom door emitting the only light into the room, aside from the glow through the window.

    ¡°Sasha.¡±

    My name, but still amand.

    I turn to look up at Vincent just as he pulls me into his body. Our chests crash together and his free hand slides into my hair. His grip is immediate, and firm, and I groan against the pull. He tilts my head back and I shut my eyes, waiting for his lips to meet mine.

    But they don¡¯t.

    I feel his lips against the shell of my ear. ¡°Sasha.¡±

    Still just my name, but no longer a demand. This time it¡¯s a plea.

    I arch into his grip. Pressing my breasts against his firm chest. He¡¯s still holding my hand, almost painfully in his tightening grip. With my other hand, I reach up and touch his side. Even with his desire obvious, I feel unsure on just how to act, so my touch is tentative. Fingers pressing just hard enough to feel his firm body beneath the cotton.

    Vincent growls, sinking his teeth into my neck. Not enough to hurt, not quite. But enough to im. His act of ownership fans my spark of heat, igniting it into a confident me. My fingers curl, transforming my soft touch into nails scraping through fabric.

    Almost frantically, I tug his shirt free from his pants. And that¡¯s all it takes. When my hands meet the bare skin of his stomach, he snaps.

    Vincent uses his body to walk me backwards until I hit the edge of the mattress. He doesn¡¯t stop his movement, crowding me until I fall back.

    Switching his grip on my fingers he lets go of my hand for the first time since leaving the bar. The freedom is short lived. Vincent grabs my wrist, raising my hand over my head. Snagging my other wrist, he yanks it up to join the first as he climbs over me, straddling my waist.

    I¡¯m at his mercy, with my hands stretched over my head and my legs hanging off the bed.

    In a move that speaks to sheer strength, using just his arms and core muscles, Vincent drags me up the bed until I¡¯mid out fully beneath him.

    My squeak of surprise turns into a moan when one of hisrge hands closes over my breast. We haven¡¯t even kissed yet. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s some sort of Pretty Woman shit, or if he¡¯s working up to it. But whatever it is, it¡¯s working. I¡¯m so goddamn turned on I mighte just from the sight of him over me.

    I want to touch him. Feel him. Lick him. But my hands are still being held down by one of his, immobilizing me.

    The pressure on my chest disappears. I almost whine at the loss but his hand goes straight for the button on my pants. Flicking it open. His skilled fingers have my zipper down in a heartbeat. With one hand he¡¯s only able to pull my pants partway down my hips. He won¡¯t be able to get them off me without getting off the bed himself, but that doesn¡¯t deter him. Still holding me down, still looming over me, Vincent¡¯s hand slides down the front of my panties. I have a fleeting moment to be thankful that I shaved and put on a nice pair of underwear today. The thought disappears when his fingers find my core. I¡¯m so wet. I¡¯d be embarrassed, but when his fingers slip across my clit, I lose all ability to think. The contact has me clenching and moaning and squeezing my eyes shut.

    ¡°Fucking hell,¡± Vincent groans, his grip on my wrists tightening. ¡°Look at me.¡±

    My eyes pop open at hismand. He¡¯s only inches away. Watching me, my face, my expressions, so intently. His fingers continue to rub circles around my needy bundle of nerves. Every few passes he dips one inside of me. Never more than an inch. Just enough to tease. To make his fingers slick.

    It¡¯s torture. It¡¯s too much. It¡¯s not enough.

    ¡°Please.¡± I beg.

    His eyes never leave my face. His fingers be more deliberate. The pressure firmer.

    ¡°Come, Sasha.¡±

    His demand is thest straw. The orgasm hits me so suddenly, and so strongly, that I gasp. Or curse. I¡¯m not sure. His fingers don¡¯t let up, but they slow, finally stopping when my body stops shuddering. I didn¡¯t think I coulde onmand. But I was wrong.

    So. Fucking. Wrong.

    Vincent¡¯s weight shifts above me. My eyes fell closed again at some point when I was lost in bliss. Opening them, I watch Vincent slide off the bed, bringing my pants and underwear with him. I don¡¯t need themand this time. I tug off my top and release my bra. It¡¯s not a sexy show of stripping. It¡¯s expedient. Nudity is the endgame and I¡¯m nothing if not goal orientated.

    Standing at the foot of the bed, he watches me. Even though I just had the best orgasm I¡¯ve had in, well, a long time, I¡¯m ready for another one. I¡¯m ready to feel him inside me. Laying back, I prop myself up on my elbows. No point in trying to hide myself now. He knows what he¡¯s getting. It¡¯s toote to be shy about a little bit of belly.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes trail a line down my body, savoring everyst inch of exposed skin. Clearly liking what he sees. Watching his face as he takes me in is fascinating. And intoxicating.

    Feeling brave, I issue my ownmand. ¡°Come here.¡±

    His eyes rise to meet mine, as a cocky grin forms on his lips.

    I watch in rapt attention as his fingers undo each button on his shirt, steadily parting the fabric. His clothing did nothing to hide his size, but now I¡¯m able to get a glimpse of the man beneath. I can tell that he¡¯s older than me, and even with his handsome face, I was prepared for just an okay body. But Vincent is far from okay. He¡¯s built. Not airbrushed and hairless. But firm and thick and all man.

    When he pushes his pants off, I see a sh of boxer briefs. But then he slides those down too, revealing himself to me. Standing at the foot of the bed, Vincent is entirely naked. And very, very hard. Drinking in the sight of him, I want to pat myself on the back for snagging such a wonderful man for the night. Along with a drool-worthy body, he has a beautiful cock. That¡¯s not something I¡¯ve ever thought before, but it¡¯s true. He¡¯srge in every, wonderful, sense. My pussy nearly hurts just looking at it, but I¡¯ve always loved a challenge.

    I let my legs drop open.

    Vincent¡¯s smirk slips when he grabs the base of his dick and squeezes. In his other hand, he¡¯s holding a small shiny package. I don¡¯t know where it came from, but I¡¯m d my assumption that he¡¯d have a condom was correct.

    Eyeing his disy, I decide I want a taste.

    I shift to sit up, but Vincent shakes his head. ¡°Stay right there.¡±

    He tears open the condom.

    ¡°Lay back.¡±

    I do.

    ¡°Spread your legs wider.¡±

    I obey.

    ¡°Good girl.¡± His praise sends a shiver across my skin.

    I¡¯m panting with need as Vincent crawls over me, using his knees to push my thighs even further apart.

    Finally, he lowers himself. Mouth hovering over mine. Cock rubbing against my entrance. Close. So close to where I want him. To where I need him. My legs go around his waist, my arms around his shoulders.

    Vincent slides his nose against mine, in a gesture that¡¯s unexpectedly tender. ¡°Rx, sweetheart.¡±

    I exhale and let my muscles loosen.

    In one sudden move, Vincent¡¯s lips crush against mine at the same time he pushes his cock inside me. All the way to the hilt. In one hard thrust. The feeling of him filling me,bined with the emotional wave of our first kiss, is too much. The sensation is too overwhelming. I cry out in shock and pain and pleasure.

    He pulls out, presses in, and just like that, I¡¯ming. Again.

    I¡¯m caged in. Vincent¡¯s encasing me. One hand holding the back of my head, his mouth plundering mine, his other hand squeezing my breast, pinching my nipple. My body doesn¡¯t stop convulsing. My pussy is throbbing with each thrust, matching Vincent. My mind¡¯s so blurry I can¡¯t form words, and I think I have tears in my eyes.

    ¡°Fuck. Sasha. Fuck.¡± Vincent buries his face in my hair. ¡°You feel so good.¡±

    I¡¯m lost in him. In this moment. In the experience. Sense of time evades me, and I feel myself hanging on for dear life. I don¡¯t want it to ever end, but I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t survive another minute.

    His thrusts are getting slower. Harder. His movements jerky.

    Vincent groans against my neck. ¡°Goddamn, you feel so fucking good.¡±

    He ms into me hard. Once, twice, then I feel his thumb on my clit. My body can¡¯t take it. I think I¡¯ve been suffering from one long never-ending orgasm this whole time, but that doesn¡¯t stop my body from starting all over. I shatter. Moaning loudly. wing at Vincent¡¯s shoulders. Arching against his hard body.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, baby.¡± One more thrust and Vincent stills. His body going tight. His groan of release filling my head.

    Vincent¡¯s weight copses onto me, pressing me into the mattress.

    A moment before sleep pulls me under, I think to myself that this wouldn¡¯t be a bad way to die.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 4

    Rolling over, the pressure on my dder nags me into awareness.

    Slowly prying my eyes open, I realize I forgot to pull the curtains closed and the light from the strip is falling across the bed. When I push to sit up, the soreness between my legs reminds me that this isn¡¯t my room, isn¡¯t my bed.

    I blink the sleep from my eyes and look around, but I don¡¯t see Vincent. The bathroom door is still ajar, emitting a soft glow, so I know it¡¯s avable. I gingerly climb out of bed and pad naked to the bathroom to do my business.

    Finding one of Vincent¡¯s t-shirts bunched up next to the sink, I slip it on before going back into the bedroom. Even though he¡¯s seen all there is to see, out of the heat of the moment I don¡¯t really feel like strolling aroundpletely nude.

    Standing there, in a stolen shirt, I start to question what to do next. This is his room. I¡¯m the one that¡¯s supposed to leave.

    I don¡¯t even remember falling asleep. I remember wondering if a person can die from too many orgasms. And then ¡­ nothing. I must have literally passed out the second Vincent climbed off me. Maybe even before. I cringe. No wonder he ditched.

    Just as the thoughtes, I hear his voice. ncing around again, I see that the door leading out into the main room is not quite shut. Finally noticing the small amount of light seeping through, I quietly step closer and ce my eye against the crack of the door. It takes me a moment to focus, but after my eyes adjust, I see his profile on the couch.

    Figuring he¡¯s on the phone, I ce my hand on the doorknob but pause when I hear a second voice. Is someone else in that room? I can¡¯t walk out there dressed in just his t-shirt and looking freshly fucked. Not if he haspany.

    I keep my eye to the crack and see a man pace into view on the far side of Vincent. It¡¯s hard to tell, but I think it might be the same security guy that I saw in the hallway earlier. Was there a disturbance or something? Oh god, was it us? Was I really that loud?

    I guess that settles it, I¡¯m staying in this room for at least a little while longer. I find the clock and see that it¡¯s just after 2:00 a.m. Standing there, debating my options, a chill crawls up my bare legs. Screw it. What¡¯s the harm in getting a few more hours of sleep in Vincent¡¯s big, warm,fy bed?

    Crawling back onto the mattress, I bury myself in the covers and promptly fall back asleep.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 5

    This time it¡¯s not the need to pee, or voices, or light that wakes me. It¡¯s the mouth trailing kisses down my neck and the hand between my legs.

    Coming to, I be aware that I¡¯m on my side and Vincent is pressed against the length of my back. Naked. And hard.

    I¡¯m still sore from earlier, but it¡¯s a good kind of sore. One I¡¯m willing to add to.

    Lifting my leg, I hook it back around Vincent¡¯s hip. Opening myself to him.

    That¡¯s all the invitation he needs.

    This time the slide in is slow, allowing me to feel every stiff inch. Last time it felt like he was tearing me in half, this time he¡¯s filling me with a steady burn.

    His arms are around me, holding me in ce, touching me, feeling me.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± His namees out as a whisper.

    ¡°Louder.¡± He growls into my hair.

    I swallow, gathering my voice. ¡°Vincent.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, sweetheart. I want to hear my name on your soft lips. Calling out for me.¡±

    His words send a rush of excitement through me, and my body clenches around him. ¡°So good¡­ Vincent¡­ Yes¡­¡±

    ¡°So good.¡± He agrees. His hand is back between my thighs, rubbing circles in sync with his pumping hips. ¡°Why, baby¡­ Why do you feel so fucking good? So fucking perfect? It shouldn¡¯t¡­¡± Vincent hisses out a breath. ¡°Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel it.¡±

    This time my orgasm¡¯s been building on a slow climb. The crescendo hits when he tells me toe. But instead of a scream, I let go on a groan. My body tightening around him as his arms tighten around me. Vincent¡¯s groan matches mine, his hips pressed hard against my ass, as hees undone with me.

    My heart rate starts to slow and the lingering haze of sleep finally lifts. I watch as Vincent slides off the bed to throw away the condom. When he climbs back into bed, he pulls me close, molding my body into his side with his arm slung around my shoulders.

    With his lips pressed to my forehead he murmurs. ¡°You¡¯re too good for me, sweet Sasha.¡±

    Feeling warm and sated, I smile against his chest.

    I want to stay here, wrapped up in strong arms. Feeling safer than I can ever remember feeling. But I can¡¯t stay. I had my fun, and now I need to get back to my previously scheduled life.

    When his breathing evens out, I slip from the bed. Careful not to wake him.

    Getting dressed in my discarded clothes, I decide to keep his t-shirt. It¡¯s in grey, nothing special, but it smells like him. It might be stealing, but it¡¯s only fair since I¡¯m pretty sure the Devil stole a piece of my soul.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 6

    ¡°V

    incent, quit sulking.¡±

    I nce over at my dad before focusing my attention back out the window. I want to tell him how dumb and boring these stupid lunches are, but I know that¡¯ll just get me into more trouble. Why couldn¡¯t I just have gone over to Angelo¡¯s house. We could be ying his Nintendo right now. And his mom lets us drink as much pop as we want. I grit my teeth. Instead, I¡¯m going to be stuck drinking gross water with lemon and eating something equallyme.

    I use the toe of my shoe to kick at the bottom of the driver¡¯s seat in front of me. It¡¯s childish, but the driver, Henry, won¡¯t rat me out. And dad¡¯s already back deep in conversation with his bodyguard, so he doesn¡¯t notice.

    I know I¡¯m being a little shit. I just can¡¯t help it. I have no interest in taking over Dad¡¯s businesses when I¡¯m older. I want to be a pilot. Travel the world. Not spend my days in stuffy meetings or fancy restaurants with a bunch of old men.

    The car slows as Henry pulls to a stop in front of the valet at Dad¡¯s favorite restaurant.

    I fold my arms over my chest as the bodyguard gets out of the passenger seat and my dad opens his door.

    ¡°Vincent, get out of the car,¡± Dad snaps before climbing out and mming his door, cutting off my reply.

    I roll my eyes and take my time unbuckling my seatbelt. Grumbling to myself about how unfair this is, I reach for the door handle. But when I tug, the door doesn¡¯t open. Henry must have forgotten to take the child lock off my door. That makes me even madder. I¡¯m not a fucking child anymore. I¡¯m 12 years old. Practically a man.

    I open my mouth to smart off to Henry when movement across the street catches my attention.

    Two men are climbing out of a van that¡¯s parked in a loading zone. They have long ck jackets on, and as they cross the street, they pull down on the front of their winter hats until the ck material covers their faces. Only their eyes are showing, and it makes them look scary.

    My heart rate picks up. This isn¡¯t good. Something is wrong.

    Both men reach inside their jackets and when their handse back up, they¡¯re holding guns.

    They walk right into the street, stepping in front of cars. Then in unison, the guns raise. And they¡¯re pointed right at my dad.

    My dad¡¯s still standing next to our car, talking with his bodyguard. Neither of them see the danger approaching. The car is between dad and the scary men, but they¡¯re getting closer.

    I pull on the handle. I need to get out. I need to warn my dad.

    The door still doesn¡¯t open.

    ¡°Dad!¡± I scream.

    He doesn¡¯t hear me. My eyes bounce back and forth between my dad and the gunmen.

    ¡°Dad!¡± I scream again.

    Henry asks me what¡¯s wrong, he apparently hasn¡¯t seen the bad guys, but there¡¯s no time to exin.

    I start to scramble across the seat. I can get out using my dad¡¯s door. But that¡¯s when the gunfire starts.

    It doesn¡¯t sound like the movies. It¡¯s louder. Harsher. The bangs seem impossibly close.

    The rear window breaks into a million pieces, showering me in ss.

    I open my mouth to scream for my dad¡­

    30 years. 30 fucking years of this dream. This memory. And I always wake up at the same exact spot. A second before I witness a bullet mming into my father¡¯s chest. Two seconds before I curl up on the floor in the backseat of the family car. Five seconds before Henry slumps over the steering wheel, blood dripping down what¡¯s left of the windshield.

    At least with all these years of practice, I no longer wake on a scream. Instead, I wake on a deep exhale. The pain is less now and the dream itself has be rare. But when it decides to appear in the dark of night, it still ws at my throat. Fuck.

    I take a deep inhale and breathe in the scent of her. Sasha. Talk about a mind fuck. One night. Just a few hours. And she¡¯s already seeped into the cracks of my soul. I don¡¯t know what it is exactly about that woman, but I¡¯m drawn to her. It could be her beauty. Her shiny chestnut hair that I want wrapped around my fist. Her mouthwatering curves. Her blushing cheeks. Her pouty lips. It could be her bravado. Her backbone. Her clever wit. Most likely, it¡¯s all of those thingsbined into one delectable package. But whatever it is, I want more.

    The second I spotted her downstairs I knew I had to approach her. I tried to hold off, to mind my own fucking business. But then I watched, caught off guard, as that fuckwit osted her. The second he grabbed her; I was on my feet. I don¡¯t put up with shit like that. Not ever. And definitely not with a woman who¡¯s mine. Who felt like mine.

    Rage and I are old friends, but it¡¯s been awhile since I¡¯ve felt it sopletely. It took all my willpower to hold that man still and not rip him apart with my bare hands. I wanted him to pay for his actions. I wanted him to hurt. The only thing keeping me in check was the knowledge that my men would take care of him.

    It was cute the way Sashaughed when I said they would break his arms. Of course, she¡¯d think I was joking. But I¡¯m not really a joking kind of guy. And I sure as fuck wasn¡¯t joking tonight. That man¡¯s lucky he got off so easy. Restraint might be one of the traits I inherited from my father, but so is ruthlessness.

    I sigh out another exhale thinking of my father. My parents. Sasha hit a cord earlier when she asked about the women in my life. I don¡¯t talk about them often, and I sure as hell don¡¯t mess around when ites to their safety. I¡¯m as protective as I am possessive of the women that belong to me. And somehow, Sasha automatically fell into that category. I don¡¯t know how a total stranger could wedge her way so firmly into my psyche, but she did.

    It doesn¡¯t matter though. One night is all I get with Sasha, and it¡¯s all I have to give. She¡¯s leaving in the morning, and my exit isn¡¯t far behind. I don¡¯t know where home is for her, and I don¡¯t want to know. I don¡¯t need to be tempted into tracking her down. Stalking is not a hobby I have time for.

    But her flight isn¡¯t for a few more hours, and that means I can have her one more time. Twice wasn¡¯t enough. And I can¡¯t leave her with the slow fuck we ended on. It was too intimate. Too personal. Too much like making love. If I¡¯m going to get Sasha off my mind, I need to have her one more time. And it needs to be fast. Intense. I need to burn her essence out of my system.

    Just thinking about it has me hardening. I¡¯m not a college kid anymore. I don¡¯t even remember thest time I fucked three times in one night. But I don¡¯t n to forget tonight. I¡¯m going to sear this memory into my brain. Savor it for my nights alone. Sasha¡¯s so responsive. It¡¯s like her body was made to fit perfectly with mine. She¡¯s a fucking siren and I¡¯d willingly wade into the darkest waters for one more touch.

    Rolling over I reach out for my Sasha. My sweetheart. My temptation.

    When my handnds on empty bedding, my eyes open and I scan the room. Empty. I stay still, listening for a moment. Hoping that she¡¯s still here. But all I¡¯m met with is silence.

    She¡¯s gone. I¡¯m alone.

    My hands curl into fists. I knew I only had one night with her. I knew she¡¯d be leaving. I epted that. But she cut our time short. She left before she was supposed to.

    Sasha stole that from us. She stole that from me. And she did it without saying a word.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 7

    ¡°Ugh, Sasha, you lucky bitch!¡± Jessica says, bouncing through the doorway.

    Iugh. ¡°Dramatic much?¡±

    ¡°What? I¡¯m not being dramatic. I mean, look at this office!¡± She does a twirl, her hands hitting the wall.

    My office is so small Jessica¡¯s attempt at showing off only shows how cramped it is.

    ¡°Yeah, so m,¡± I droll.

    My over-excitable co-worker drops into the sole visitor chair. ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s small. But you have a window! They could have easily stuck you out there in cubiclend.¡± She uses her thumb to gesture out the door.

    Cubiclend is currently empty of residents, but she¡¯s absolutely right. I¡¯m here as a short-term consultant and in the past that has rarely meant privacy. They could have stuck me in some temporary space, and I wouldn¡¯t haveined. The fact that I got an office¡­ With a desk. And a chair. And a closing door. And a flipping window. Is nothing short of amazing.

    The building we¡¯re currently sitting in is ted to open to the public next month. I¡¯ve seen movers walking through the halls all day, carrying in furniture and boxes. The north corner of the building, where we are, houses the new headquarters for Mazzanti Enterprises. M.E. is an international corporation specializing in entertainment, real estate, security, and more that I¡¯m still getting a grasp on.

    Along with boasting thepany¡¯s new HQ, the new building houses a high-end hotel, three restaurants, several floors ofmercial rental space, and a mini convention center. It¡¯s impressive, high-end, and now ¨C when M.E. wants to host an event ¨C they can do the entire thing in-house.

    The rest of employees will start to move in over the next few days. I was lucky to snag early ess to get myself set up. Since I¡¯m here as a public rtions consultant, I¡¯m stationed on the floor with M.E.¡¯s own PR team. Some of them are new and some are employees that are moving here from other locations. I¡¯ve had a chance to meet them all over Skype, so it should be a smooth transition for all of us.

    Located downtown Minneapolis, my real office isn¡¯t far from here. But, other than me, no one from our firm ¨C Minnesota Rtions ¨C will be working out of the Mazzanti building. Even before we officiallynded the job, Cheryl knew she wanted me on this project. I¡¯ve worked with some tough clients before and this project is going to be an up-hill battle.

    The trip to Vegasst month was actually my introduction to Mazzanti Enterprises. The hotel we had stayed at is owned by the group and it started to give me an idea as to the type of money M.E. has to y with. But we didn¡¯t just go to Sin City to sight see. We went to get an understanding of how Mazzanti Enterprises runs and the challenges we¡¯ll face.

    ¡°Seriously though, have you seen him yet? Mr. Sin?¡± Jessica wiggles her eyebrows and looks out into the hallway, like she might spot the man in question.

    I roll my eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just a stupid nickname. It doesn¡¯t mean that he¡¯s hot, or sinfully delicious, or whatever ridiculous image is bouncing around in that head of yours.¡±

    ¡°Oh,e on. He has to be hot,¡± Jessica counters.

    ¡°Why? Because he¡¯s rich? Have you taken a look at the Forbes list recently? Take the actors off and you¡¯re left with a bunch of overweight, balding, misogynist assholes. Even if he¡¯s decent looking, with a name like Mr. Sin, and a mobster family background, he¡¯s definitely going to be trouble. Not to mention the fact that no single person needs such an ungodly amount of money. It¡¯s disgusting.¡± I slump back in my chair. ¡°This is going to be a PR nightmare.¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing they hired the best PR agent in the whole damn city.¡± Jessica batts hershes at me while she says this.

    ¡°ttery will get you everywhere,¡± I chuckle. Jessica¡¯s so damn peppy I can¡¯t even fake a frown. ¡°I don¡¯t want to sound ungrateful for the visit, but what are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Technically, I¡¯m not here. If the bossdy asks, you never saw me.¡± Jessica winks as she stands. ¡°I had to run over to see one of my clients, so I took a slight detour on the way back to check out your new digs. But if I want to get on the road before traffic hits, I gotta run.¡±

    ¡°Copy that. I never saw you.¡± I grin as I stand. Cheryl¡¯s a good boss, but she can be a stickler for the rules. ¡°I¡¯ll walk your imaginary butt down to the lobby. It¡¯d be good to stretch my legs a bit.¡±

    Since there¡¯s no one really in the office yet, I could¡¯ve gotten away with wearing non-work clothes. But since I wanted to look decent in case I did run into anybody, I chose my favorite short sleeved ck jersey dress. It¡¯s knee length, stretchy, ttering, andfortable. Perfect for a day of sitting at my new desk.

    Jessica ps her hands. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll run into Mr. Sin!¡±

    I push her out the door. ¡°The meeting tomorrow morning is the big reveal. There¡¯s no way he¡¯ll mess up the surprise by wandering around the building today.¡±

    Jessica hums her agreement as we walk down the long hallway leading to the elevators. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe that they¡¯ve kept this guy under wraps all these years. Like way under wraps. He runs the whole freakingpany, and we don¡¯t even have a freaking name! I mean we know he¡¯s a part of the family, but that¡¯s it.¡± Jessica says family with emphasis.

    It¡¯s not a secret that the Mazzantis got their fame and fortune through nefarious means. They¡¯re well known in the world of organized crime, adding a whole new level to the word family. And a whole differentplication to the public¡¯s perception.

    I sigh. ¡°Story is that the business ispletely legal now. And as far as I can tell, that¡¯s true. So as long as Mr. Sin isn¡¯t some giant sleaze ball, we might have a chance at pulling this off.¡±

    Jessica throws her head backughing. ¡°Oh my god, Sasha. Only you would still use the term sleaze ball.¡±

    Jessica¡¯sugh makes me grin. I¡¯m used to working on site, but I¡¯ll miss seeing her in the office.

    I pat her shoulder as we approach the elevators. ¡°Please feel free to secretly stop by as often as you want.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 8

    I tip my head down, pretending to read the paperid out on the conference table in front of me. In reality I¡¯m hiding a yawn. And a nce at my watch has me stifling a groan. I don¡¯t need to be here. I can hardly think of anything more tedious than a meeting that¡¯s sole purpose is to prepare for another meeting. I have so many other things I need to be doing, but I¡¯m the idiot that agreed to sit in on this.

    Angelo is in the seat next to mine, ying a game silently on his phone. But he¡¯s the head of security, so no one cares if he¡¯s paying attention to this bullshit. Which is good because he¡¯s been tuned out since the first five minutes.

    Rolling my shoulders, I raise my head. Since I¡¯m not leading the meeting, I chose a seat at the far end of the table, out of the way. From here I can see out one wall of windows to the city below, and out the other wall of windows into the hallway. I make a mental note that there should be blinds in here on both walls since it¡¯s currently not a very private room to conduct business in. This isn¡¯t the executive floor, but I want all of the conference rooms to have privacy.

    Movement in the hallway pulls my gaze. I¡¯ve been watching the movers haul stuff back and forth all day, nearly jealous of the hardbor they¡¯re performing. This is a nice chair and all, but I¡¯ve been sitting here so long my ass is numb. What I wouldn¡¯t give for a little physical activity right about now.

    The sight of women, rather than movers, has my attention focusing as they pass by the wall of windows. There¡¯re very few staff in the building today, so I hope thesedies walk slowly. It¡¯ll give me something to watch for a few moments, theck of curtains suddenly paying off.

    Neither woman is very tall. They¡¯re walking side by side so I can only really see the one closest to the ss. She looks young, mid 20¡¯s, and has ck hair cut into a severe bob. Past her I can see shes of shiny brown hair, but that¡¯s it. My mind starts to wander when I realize that the one with the dark hair looks a little like the suit designer from those Incredible movies. But then she throws her head backughing. And I bolt upright in my seat.

    I can see the other woman now.

    My chest expands and my blood heats.

    It¡¯s Sasha. My Sasha. My little Vegas runaway. Here.

    I rise from my chair.

    My cousin Angelo tilts his head at me, an unspoken question. I shake mine, signaling him to stay put, then walk to the door.

    Some of the people in the meeting are watching me, but I don¡¯t care.

    That girl owes me a fuck.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 9

    I can feel the start of a tension headache. It¡¯s not like my conversation with Jessica revealed any new information about my current project, but it was a good ssh of reality reminding what I have in store. Tipping my head down, I rub at my temples as the elevator rises back to my floor. I should have just grabbed my things and left with Jessica.

    The car eases to a stop. I listen to the doors slide open and drop my hands.

    With my head still tipped down, I watch a pair of men¡¯s shoes step into the elevator.

    Not wanting to miss my exit, I raise my head, ready to excuse myself.

    And I freeze.

    My breath stalling in my chest.

    My heart does a quick double beat.

    Here, in this small elevator, over a thousand miles away from Vegas, I find myself standing a foot away from the Devil himself.

    He doesn¡¯t look surprised. He doesn¡¯t look shocked. He looks pissed.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I whisper his name.

    In one quick movement Vincent closes the gap between us. His handse up to the sides of my face. He leans in, his pitch-ck eyes inches away from mine. I had forgotten how dark his eyes were. I swore I¡¯d memorized every detail about him, but ¨C being this close again, feeling his heat again ¨C is setting my body on fire.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± He growls my name.

    He leans in at the same time I push up onto my toes. Our lips collide. His mouth is warm and soft and demanding. I grab onto thepels of his suit jacket, vaguely aware that the elevator doors have shut, and it feels like we¡¯re moving.

    Vincent¡¯s hands slide around to the back of my head. His fingers gripping my hair. The tug is enough to tilt my head. Taking instant advantage of the new angle, Vincent¡¯s tongue slides against my bottom lip. I nip at him as he pulls my hair, causing me to groan.

    He presses against me, bringing our bodies flush.

    I¡¯d missed him. Missed this body. Missed the way he makes me feel.

    When Vincent breaks the kiss, I realize that the elevator has stopped, and the doors are sliding open again.

    He grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and pulls me out to follow him. The move has me shing back to the image of us leaving the elevator in Vegas. His grip on my hand now, even more possessive than it was then.

    I almost have to jog to keep up with his long strides, not sure where he¡¯s taking me. The movers have been here. Everything is still in boxes, but I think we¡¯re on the top floor. The executive floor.

    Vincent steps through an open door, pulling me with. He stops suddenly, turning back to face me. With his free hand he reaches out to m the office door shut.

    ¡°Where are we?¡± I ask.

    ¡°In a room with a lock.¡±

    Vincent walks into me, using his body to press me against the door.

    I hear the click as he locks the handle. Adrenaline surges through my body. I know what he wants. And I want it too.

    I let go of Vincent¡¯s hand so I can use both of mine to push his jacket off his shoulders. He lets me, but as soon as it hits the floor he crowds back into my space.

    In a move I¡¯ve only ever seen in movies, Vincent reaches down, grabs my hips, and lifts me. Pinning me against the door with his body between my legs. My thighs automatically wrap around his waist. My arms around his neck. My mouth fusing to his.

    His hands are sorge they nearly cover my entire ass as he grinds into me. Vincent¡¯s mouth leaves mine, trailing open mouthed kisses down my throat. Reaching my cor bone, he scrapes his teeth across my skin. The sensation sending a shiver straight to my core.

    Pulling us away from the door, Vincent supporting all of my weight, he walks us across the room. I drop my lips to that hollow spot at the base of his throat. And lick.

    ¡°Fuck, sweetheart.¡± Vincent grinds the words out.

    That name. The same silly pet name he used on me a month ago. I hate how much I love it. I sink my teeth into the side of his neck. This man turns me into an animal. When I¡¯m near him I feel like I go wild with desire.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you leave me? Why¡¯d you run?¡± His questions rumble through my body.

    I shake my head against him. ¡°You knew I was leaving.¡±

    A crack sounds throughout the room, apanied by a sharp sting on my butt cheek.

    I rear my head back.

    He narrows his eyes at me, daring me to talk back and get spanked again. ¡°You snuck out.¡±

    He stops walking and lets go of his hold on me. I only drop a few inches before I find myself sitting on top of a desk.

    He leans in close. ¡°And you stole my shirt.¡±

    His hands start on my bare knees, and slide up my thighs, pushing my dress up as he goes. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re sorry.¡±

    When I don¡¯t reply, he pinches my hip.

    I startle and whisper, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Good girl.¡± He kisses me once more. Brief but hard.

    Pulling away from the kiss, he presses on my chest until I¡¯mid out on the desk.

    ¡°I should bend you over this desk. Fuck you from behind. Pull your hair. Smack your ass until it¡¯s red. Punish you for what you did.¡± His breathing gets heavier with each word he bites out.

    Holy. Shit. The idea of getting punished has never turned me on before, but his filthy words have me soaked.

    Vincent pulls a condom out of his wallet. Undoes his belt. Lowers his zipper. And releases his already hard cock. His pants still on, he steps between my spread thighs.

    I was sore for days after thest time we were together. Yet the sight of him, long and hard and ready, has my mouth watering.

    ¡°I should do that.¡± He says. ¡°But I want you like this. I want you watching me. Seeing what you missed.¡±

    He grabs my hips and pulls me until my bottom half is hanging off the desk. I reach up and grip the edge of the desktop above my head. If he steps away from me now, I¡¯ll slide off.

    Vincent groans as he pushes the skirt of my dress up over my waist. ¡°Fuck, baby. Look at you.¡±

    He runs a finger over my seam, demonstrating how wet my panties are.

    With one hand he pulls the fabric to the side, revealing my pussy. With his other hand he strokes the tip of his dick up and down against my entrance.

    ¡°Tell me you want this.¡± He demands.

    I don¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I want it. I want you.¡±

    Vincent pushes in one inch. ¡°Say it again.¡±

    I moan. ¡°I want you. Please. Please!¡± I¡¯m begging for him to fuck me.

    He pushes in another inch. ¡°Tell me you thought of me. Tell me you¡¯ve thought of my cock inside you. Stretching this perfect pussy.¡±

    His voice is strained. He¡¯s trying to stay in charge. But I know he¡¯s close to losing it.

    I roll my hips up, trying to get him deeper.

    Another smack sounds through the room. With my ass hanging off the desk he still has ess to my bare skin.

    ¡°Tell me.¡± He growls.

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought of you.¡± I pant. ¡°I couldn¡¯t stop thinking of you. Vincent, please.¡±

    A changees over his eyes. It¡¯s small, but watching it happen was like watching a door shut. Like he¡¯s closing himself off. I said exactly what he wanted, but somehow it must have been the wrong thing.

    I wonder if I should apologize. I¡¯m worried he¡¯ll stop. That he¡¯ll step away.

    But then he pushes in another inch. And another. And then I¡¯m taking all of him. He¡¯s pumping his hips. And I can¡¯t think anymore.

    I can¡¯t focus on his eyes. I can¡¯t focus on anything except for the feeling of Vincent sliding in and out of me. I¡¯ve dreamt of this so many times over the past month, that this moment doesn¡¯t even feel real.

    My hands leave the edge of the desk and instead reach blindly for Vincent. Still thrusting he leans forward, allowing me to grip the front of his shirt.

    I can¡¯t stop the sounds that roll out of my throat. He¡¯s so big and it¡¯s been so long. Too long.

    I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his lips on me. Anywhere. But he won¡¯t get close enough. He¡¯s staying just far enough away.

    ¡°Touch yourself.¡±

    My eyes meet his.

    ¡°Make yourselfe, Sasha.¡±

    His expression is full of lust and need and anger. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe him not touching me is my penance for leaving him.

    I let go of his shirt, reaching down to rub right where I need pressure the most.

    Vincent straightens back up so he can watch where we¡¯re joined. Watch my fingers slip back and forth over my own body.

    It all feels so good. So intense.

    I want to please him. I want to follow his directions.

    Watching him watch me, it only takes another moment before I start to lose control. My fingers pick up their pace, and so does Vincent.

    It¡¯s the sounds, the flesh on flesh, the heavy breathing, that cause me to shatter. My orgasm leaves me on a moan.

    I have half a second to worry about how loud I¡¯m being before Vincentes on his own groan, drowning out any sound I was making. His body stills. His head tips back. His fingers dig into the side of my thighs.

    We stay like this for a moment. Both lost in our bliss. Until Vincent releases his grip on me and steps away. Feeling him slide out of me is somehow lewder than the act of entering. But maybe it just feels that way since he¡¯s not looking at me.

    Not having him to support me, I hurry to grab onto the desk while dropping my legs to the ground. I still feel a bit unsteady, so I stay leaning against the desk as I watch Vincent.

    He pulls the condom off, then pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket to wrap around it. It¡¯s a little gross, but I suppose leaving a used condom in some random office¡¯s trash can would probably be a bad idea.

    As he zips his pants up his phone rings.

    He still hasn¡¯t looked at me.

    I watch him pick up his suit jacket off the floor, pull the phone out, ept the call, and bring it to his ear.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He answers with one rough word.

    Then with the phone pressed to his ear, his jacket draped over his arm, used condom in hand, he unlocks the door and walks out of the office.

    Not once does he look at me. Not a nce. Not a nod. Not a word.

    What. The. Fuck.

    Seriously, what the fuck just happened?

    I keep a hand on the desk as I stand up fully. Unwilling to acknowledge why I feel so shaken.

    I brush a hand down the skirt of my dress. Then I do it again, swallowing down the emotions that are threatening to break free.

    I¡¯m embarrassed at how tight my throat feels. I¡¯ve never felt more used in all my life. I know it¡¯s my fault. I shouldn¡¯t have just thrown myself at the man. I shouldn¡¯t have believed that we had a real connection. I should have trusted my first instincts. That man is the goddamn Devil.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 10

    ¡°Can you put a few ice cubes in there for me?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You know that ruins the whole vor profile, right? We¡¯ve worked hard to get the perfect roast to brew ratio.¡± Benny sighs as he gently puts a small handful of ice into myrge cup of coffee.

    ¡°I know, Benny. And I promise to drink extra coffee next time to make up for my crimes. But I have an important meeting this morning and I¡¯m running on about three hours of sleep.¡±

    ¡°Ouch.¡± He winces in sympathy.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I need to internalize this caffeine as quickly as possible.¡±

    Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I let the familiar scents calm my nerves.

    There are some shops that still have chimes above their doors, but BeanBag is a little different. Whenever the door is opened, the motion sets off a rain stick that¡¯s been filled with coffee beans. The sound is quiet but always makes me smile. That quirk alone is reason enough toe here, but the real reason I¡¯m a regr is because they make the best coffee in all of Minneapolis. Benny is an especially talented barista. He might be a super hipster, but he knows how to work atte. And lucky for me, BeanBag is just a block away from my apartment. Extra lucky is that I happen to live only a few blocks from Mazzanti Enterprises.

    ¡°You¡¯re forgiven this one cup of bastardized coffee.¡± Benny gives me a slight bow as he extends the drink over the counter.

    ¡°I don¡¯t deserve your kindness.¡± I say, epting the cup.

    With my coffee already to my lips I give Benny a wave as I turn towards the exit.

    ¡°Good luck with your meeting!¡± Benny calls out.

    Like a kid in timeout, I now have the next 15 or so minutes to think about my actions as I walk to my new office. I could catch a Lyft, but today more than ever I need the fresh air. Thankfully the morning temperature is holding out. This June weather will end up killing me, but ¨C for now, it¡¯s pleasantly warm and not quite humid enough to destroy my hair.

    I wasn¡¯t exaggerating to Benny. I think I clocked around three hours of sleepst night. Vincent¡¯s coldhearted dismissal after our sudden round of tense,pletely inappropriate office sex left me stunned and more hurt than I¡¯d like to admit. But my emotions are my own personal problem to deal with. The real problem, the problem that I can¡¯t stop worrying about, is that Vincent clearly works for M.E. There¡¯s literally no other reason for him to have been in the office yesterday. And since he was wearing a suit, there¡¯s not much use in crossing my fingers and hoping he was with the movingpany.

    I¡¯m fairly sure that when he stepped onto the elevator with me, it was on the floor where I was supposed to get off. The floor that I work on. Dear gods, please don¡¯t let him be on the PR team with me. I don¡¯t think I have the sort of poker face necessary for that.

    Wait.

    I stop walking right in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few curses to be tossed my way.

    I close my eyes and let out my own silent curse. The elevator. My head was down when he first stepped on, but it was only for a second or two. I doubt he¡¯d be able recognize me from the top of my head. But when I looked up, he was looking right at me. Like right freaking at me. And he wasn¡¯t surprised. There was no shock on his face whatsoever. Running into your one night stand a monthter, in a different state, should cause a person at least a moment of pause. Unless¡­ Unless he already knew I¡¯d be there.

    ¡°Mother fucker.¡± This time my curse isn¡¯t silent.

    Vegas. Goddamnit. He was there. For work. He must have been at the same meetings I¡¯d been at. Except¡­ Except I¡¯m certain I would¡¯ve noticed him. It¡¯s not like there were hundreds of people in those meetings, and the man stands out. Either way, he works for Mazzanti Enterprises. And he was in Vegas, staying at the Mazzanti Resort.

    Letting the other pedestrians jostle me into walking again, I think back through the details of the night I met him, making a point to skip over the naked parts. I remember the way he handled Mr. Idiot in the bar. The handoff to the security guards. The guy in the hallway outside his room, andter on in his room. Vincent must be part of the security team. It¡¯s the only thing that makes sense. Maybe even Head of Security.

    I groan. I think I can probably trust that he won¡¯t report me, but what if he¡¯s already bragged about his conquests to his friends?

    Another thought jars me more than the first. What if he knew who I was back then, and that¡¯s why he intervened with the jerk in the bar? What if it was all just a set up to get me in bed? I feel sick just thinking about it. I take arge gulp of coffee to rinse away the sour taste in my throat.

    Then I take another drink for the jolt of alertness.

    That¡¯s it. No more thinking about the Devil. He¡¯s dead to me. I will put him out of my mind and do my best to avoid him when I¡¯m in the building. I can do that. I can¡¯t think of a single scenario where I¡¯d need to interact with security. This should be easy.

    Feeling slightly pacified, I remind myself that my main goal is to keep my boss from finding out about Vincent. If Cheryl knew that I slept with a client, she¡¯d take me off the project immediately. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d fire me. I don¡¯t think so, but she might. She could. Best to not dwell on it. I won¡¯t tell her. She won¡¯t find out. And I¡¯ll get to stay working on this project.

    I¡¯m almost surprised when I find myself standing in front of the Mazzanti building. I spent so much time fretting; I didn¡¯t even realize I had walked all the way here. Taking one more deep inhale for strength, I push through the front doors. Time to put my game face on.

    I make quick work of hurrying up to my office so I can drop off my nearly empty coffee and my bag. Grabbing a notepad, I head up to the top floor.

    The crowd for this meeting isrger than I was expecting. We¡¯re situated in the executive conference room. I swear it seats 50 and every chair is full. There¡¯re even a few people standing against the back wall. They¡¯re all Mazzanti employees. Cheryl, her assistant Monica, and I are the only outsiders.

    Some of the staff came here from other M.E. locations, so there¡¯s a slight chance that they¡¯ve met this mysterious Mr. Sin before. But even then, he¡¯s been very off-radar. And anyone who¡¯s new to thepany definitely hasn¡¯t seen him.

    Our meetings in Vegas mostly talked about logistics. Mazzanti Enterprises wants to, once and for all, set the record straight and present themselves as a totally legal organization. There¡¯s been a lot of secrecy regarding thepany in the past and they knew that they¡¯d need the best PR team avable to make the transition into the limelight smooth. We discussed the n for theunch of the new Minneapolis location and finally put a face and name to the man behind the curtain. But we didn¡¯t learn any details about him. Not a name. Not a hint. Nothing. We know he¡¯s somehow rted to the Mazzanti family. We know he¡¯s been silently running things for 20 years, but he¡¯s buried so deep that there¡¯s not a single picture of this mystery man online. And we know that people have referred to him as Mr. Sin for the past several years. To say that we¡¯re going into this unprepared is an understatement.

    Cheryl leans over so she can talk to me quietly. ¡°After we wrap up here, the three of us will head back to my office to flush out the details. Once we have an actual name to research, and some details in hand, we¡¯ll be able to square away more of our overall n.¡±

    I nod. ¡°Sounds good.¡±

    She winks. ¡°Here¡¯s hoping he¡¯s good looking. That always makes the public more willing to trust a person.¡±

    I stifle a snort ofughter. It¡¯s not fair, but she¡¯s not wrong.

    I¡¯m about to reply further when a small crowd of people walk through the double doors into the conference room. All conversations stop.

    We¡¯re seated near the middle of the table, facing the door. So, I can easily watch as the group makes their way towards the front of the room. It¡¯s a cluster of bodies, but as they move forward, they start to spread out. Dark silky hair catches my attention. And then my heart clenches in my chest.

    It¡¯s Vincent. He¡¯s in the small group that just came in.

    I swallow down my rising anxiety. If he¡¯s walking in with this crowd of higher-ups, then he must actually be in charge of security. Fuck.

    Breathe. I remind myself. I already assumed this was the case. It will be fine.

    As I¡¯m trying to calm myself with that thought, the group disperses to stand against the front wall. Everyone except Vincent. Vincent steps up to the head of the table.

    His sultry voice does nothing to soften the blow of his words.

    ¡°Good morning. I¡¯m Vincent Mazzanti. Some of you know me as Mr. Sin.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 11

    Dead. I¡¯m actually fucking dead.

    I can literally feel the color leave my cheeks as the blood drains from my face.

    It can¡¯t be true. Vincent. The Devil. Is Mr. Sin.

    My shoulders curl down, my body trying to hide in some misguided attempt of self-preservation. I almostugh. Or cry. It¡¯s a bitte to protect myself now. Vincent, the man who¡¯s been inside of me three times, the man who made me feel rejected and small only yesterday, is now my client. And not just my client but the client. He runs the whole damnpany!

    Suddenly, embarrassment floods through me and my face shes from pale to pink. Vincent is a freaking millionaire. He¡¯s wealthy beyond my imagination. He¡¯s stunningly handsome. He¡¯s smart. He¡¯s witty. He¡¯s every woman¡¯s fantasy, and clearly a yer. And I¡¯m the stupid foolish girl who invited him to bed. Of course, he¡¯s done with me. He probably remembered who he was, and who I was, halfway through our desk-fuck yesterday¡­ and that¡¯s why he closed down. He was probably disgusted with himself for slumming it and wanted the deed over as quickly as possible.

    If this wasn¡¯t arguably the most important assignment of my career, I¡¯d run from this conference room and never look back.

    I hadn¡¯t noticed all the murmurs throughout the room, but Vincent¡¯s voice cuts them off. ¡°Mazzanti Enterprises is my legacy. My father, Stefano, brought me into this business when I was still a little boy. I learned a lot from him in the short time that we had together and did my best to take on his morals as my own. Upon his death, a trust oversaw the day-to-day business needs. But when I turned 21, I regained majority control. That was a few years ago.¡± He smirks and the crowdughs.

    I can¡¯tugh though. Not at his self-deprecating jokes. Not at the cute grin pulling at his lips. Not at any of this.

    Vincent isn¡¯t just a part of the family. He is the family. He¡¯s the heir. The son of a famous gangster. Born into this life of wealth and extravagance.

    ¡°In all seriousness, I can only take a small fraction of the credit for the sess of Mazzanti Enterprises. The team up here with me are the real brains of the business. They¡¯re all heads of various departments and without them the whole circus would fall apart.¡± Vincent gestures to the people who walked in with him. ¡°My philosophy is to put the right people in charge of the right projects, empower them, and help them in any way that I can. Our people, all of you in this room, are our real assets.¡±

    I nce around to find huge smiles surrounding me. Cheryl was right, an attractive face makes anything believable.

    ¡°So why now? Why am Iing out of the shadows, so to speak? The short answer: it¡¯s time. I was able to aplish a lot by staying out of the spotlight. Over the past 21 years, I¡¯ve worked hard with each and every department to make sure that we were thepany that we wanted to be. This building that we¡¯re in now is the new symbol of Mazzanti Enterprises. We¡¯re apany to be proud of. Apany that demands respect. Apany that will move forward into the next era with no skeletons in the closet. With no secrets. The purpose of meing forward is not to put the attention onto me, but rather to take the mystery away. Once it¡¯s out there. Once everyone¡¯s had a chance to see my ugly mug,¡± he pauses for moreughter, ¡°then the mystery will fade, and the focus can move to where it should have been the whole time. Our people and what we do.¡±

    My mind is still reeling too much to focus on his words. I can¡¯t stop kicking myself for not putting it together on my own. I mean look at him. He is Mr. Sin. He¡¯s the perfect stereotype that Jessica was hoping for. He¡¯s sexy as hell. He¡¯s dark. He has the look of a predator.

    The very first moment I saw him, he had a man violently pinned to a bar top. And then he made a joke about having that man¡¯s arms broken.

    Oh god, it wasn¡¯t a joke.

    A small gasp escapes my lips.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes cut over and meet mine. He¡¯s still talking, but his eyes are focused just on me. Those damn ck eyes. I thought they were so captivating before, but now they feel dangerous. The heat of them now is too much. This is the first time he¡¯s looked at me since his cock slid out of mest night. That memory wipes some of my shock away. You can dress him up in a suit and give him a fancy job, but he¡¯s still just an asshole.

    My jaw clenches and his lips pull up into the smallest of smiles. It¡¯s so infuriating that my hands curl into fists. I want to hit him.

    When Vincent looks away, I finally tune back into what he¡¯s saying.

    ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure to announce that this morning I signed the papers finalizing the purchase of Marie¡¯s House. Or what will be Marie¡¯s House. The building was an old hotel that we¡¯ll renovate into transitional housing for women and families. My mother Marie has always wanted to give back in this way. Now seems like the perfect time. We have the means, and as of a few hours ago, we have the ce.¡±

    People are looking around as quiet voices fill the room. Apparently, this is a surprise to everyone. My recently acquired loathing for Vincent makes me want to hate everything he says, but this is actually amendable idea. And it pisses me off.

    ¡°I know this is going to be arge undertaking, but we already have a build team put together. We n to have the remodel breaking ground within the week. Not only is this for a great cause, but it will help to pull attention away from me and put it back where it belongs. To that end, I¡¯d like to introduce Minnesota Rtions.¡±

    Vincent gestures in our direction. I know the attention will be on Cheryl, but my mouth still goes dry.

    ¡°Cheryl Morris is the owner of Minnesota Rtions. They¡¯re a Public Rtions consultancy firm and will be assisting our in-house team during this transition period. Cheryl¡¯spanyes highly rmended, and we¡¯re lucky to have them during this process. They also happen to have a staff made up entirely of women, so they¡¯ll be a great addition to the teamunching Marie¡¯s House.¡± Vincent¡¯s smile seems innocent as he looks our way, but I know better. ¡°It¡¯s lovely to meet youdies.¡±

    I think I might faint. Like really faint. Like fall out of my chair, copse on the floor, wish I were dead for real, faint.

    I feel flustered. And used. And furious.

    He knows details about thepany. Mypany! He knows Cheryl¡¯s name. How long has he known about our involvement? How long has he known about me?

    Vincent continues. ¡°There¡¯s a lot to go through, so to save time I¡¯ll work directly with the lead consultant. Sasha, is it?¡± His eyesnd on mine and stay there.

    Is he fucking with me?

    I open my mouth, but don¡¯t trust that my words wille out steady. Or that they¡¯lle out as anything other than a string of curses. So, I simply nod.

    ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll have my assistant, Brent, get in touch with you.¡±

    I nod again.

    Vincent¡¯s gaze leaves me as he continues to address the room.

    I can¡¯t listen anymore. I can barely breathe. What have I gotten myself into?

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 12

    With a bag of Thai food in one hand, I unlock my door and push into my apartment. As the door ms shut behind me, a loud meow assaults my ears before Captain sprints from the hall to greet me.

    ¡°Hey, buddy. Give me half a minute to drop my shit, then we can share some Pad Thai.¡±

    Captain is my best friend. He¡¯s a normal cat. Nothing fancy. Just big. Like extra big. I think he was about 20 pounds on ourst trip to the vet. He¡¯s supposed to lose a few pounds, but hey, aren¡¯t we all? Sure, he might be pudgy, but he can still haul ass to perform his daily after-work greeting. He¡¯d probably greet me like this at other times too, but let¡¯s face it, I don¡¯t go anywhere but work.

    True to my word, it only takes me a moment to kick off my shoes, drop my bag on the floor, yank my bra off, and plop my ass on the couch with apful of noodles. The post-meeting meeting that I had with Cheryl and Monica was surprisingly productive, given my state of mind. It was also long, so I have plenty to keep me busy over the next couple of days, including the weekend. Which is good since assistant-to-the-Devil, Brent, didn¡¯t waste any time hunting me down. He has me on the books for my first meeting with Vincent, Monday at 2 o¡¯ clock in the afternoon.

    But I refuse to think about that anymore tonight. Tonight, I¡¯m going to binge on carbs and pretend that my life isn¡¯t crashing and burning around me.

    My fork is inches from my face when my phone starts to ring. I shove the noodles into my mouth as I hesitate in answering. I ignored his callst night, not wanting to talk to him after the whole office sex incident. But if I ignore his call a second night in a row, he¡¯ll go all stalker mode on me.

    I hit answer and put it on speaker so I can keep eating.

    ¡°Hey, John.¡±

    ¡°Sister. You home?¡±

    ¡°Yep, just walked in a few minutes ago.¡±

    John hums. ¡°How¡¯s the Cap?¡±

    I nce down at Captain and smile. ¡°Well, he¡¯s currently sitting on my coffee table devouring a chunk of peanut crusted chicken, so I¡¯d say he¡¯s doing fine.¡±

    ¡°Sounds about right. Give his fat ass a scratch for me.¡±

    My brother acts all tough, but he loves my cat almost as much as I do. ¡°I¡¯ll do that. How about you? You still at work?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Just taking a food break. But don¡¯t worry, my current project isn¡¯t exciting.¡± Exciting is John¡¯s code for dangerous. ¡°How¡¯d your meeting go today? This was your big intro thing for your new client, right?¡±

    ¡°It was okay.¡± I¡¯m talking with my mouthful, but it doesn¡¯t do much to cover myck of enthusiasm.

    Of course, John takes notice. ¡°You don¡¯t sound all that happy about it. Usually, you¡¯re frothing at the mouth to give me details. Too many details.¡± I can picture him rolling his eyes.

    ¡°Yeah, well, this one is different.¡± I sigh and set down my fork.

    ¡°Different how?¡±

    I don¡¯t really want to tell him about this, but I want to talk to someone. I¡¯ve be so much of a workaholic that almost all my friends are colleagues, and I can¡¯t tell any of them about Vincent. I¡¯m sure Jessica would just about die to hear my gossip, but then I¡¯d be asking her to keep secrets from our boss and that¡¯s not fair.

    ¡°Different how, Sasha?¡± John¡¯s tone has turned concerned.

    ¡°It¡¯s just that¡­¡± I huff out a breath. ¡°You don¡¯t want to hear about this.¡±

    ¡°Sasha.¡± He¡¯s using his dad voice now.

    ¡°Fine. If you must know, I slept with the guy. But I didn¡¯t know he was the guy at the time. I didn¡¯t even know he was with thepany! I mean I figured that out yesterday, but it¡¯s not like I could have guessed who he really was! And now I have to work with him. And I can¡¯t tell Cheryl. Or Jessica. And it¡¯s a mess.¡± My voice loses its steam. ¡°It¡¯s a mess.¡±

    John¡¯s silent for a moment. ¡°Uh, back up. What guy?¡±

    I don¡¯t really want to go there with John, but I don¡¯t see another option since I already started. ¡°He¡¯s a guy at thepany I¡¯m consulting for.¡±

    ¡°No shit. I got that part. But can you avoid interacting with him?¡±

    I scoff. ¡°Not a chance.¡±

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think about that before you¡­¡± My 38-year-old brother has trouble referencing sex when he¡¯s talking to me.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± I save him for saying the words. ¡°You don¡¯t want to talk about this. Let¡¯s change the topic. Like I said, I didn¡¯t know who he was at the time.¡± I realize my mistake as soon as I say it.

    ¡°You slept with someone you didn¡¯t know! Don¡¯t you know how dangerous that is? Did he give you a fake name?¡±

    I groan and drop my head against the back of the couch. ¡°Oh my god, you are so dramatic. He didn¡¯t give me a fake name. I just didn¡¯t¡­¡± Crap. No good way to say this. ¡°I didn¡¯t get hisst name.¡±

    ¡°Jesus, Sasha. Where¡¯d you meet this guy, at a fucking bar?¡±

    He¡¯s being sarcastic. I know he is since I never go out. But he¡¯s not wrong.

    He reads my silence correctly. ¡°Seriously? Since when did you start trolling bars for tail?¡±

    ¡°Tail?¡± I scoff. ¡°Really, John? And I wasn¡¯t trolling for anything. We happened to meet on my one night of vacation.¡±

    ¡°Vegas! You hooked up with aplete stranger in Vegas? Goddamnit, that was after I talked to you, wasn¡¯t it? You were all alone! Anything could have happened to you!¡± John nearly shouts. Shit, I really should¡¯ve just ignored his call.

    ¡°I know. Okay, I know. But it was fine. I was fine. Clearly, I made it out alive and unharmed. Vincent isn¡¯t a bad guy. We had a good time.¡± I cringe as I say good time, it sounds so sleazy.

    ¡°Vincent what?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve since found out hisst name. What is it?¡±

    ¡°John, I know what you¡¯re thinking, but I don¡¯t need you to run a background check on him. I know everything there is to know.¡±

    John sounds incredulous. ¡°Oh, really. How do you figure that?¡±

    I take a breath. ¡°Because Vincent is my client. Vincent Mazzanti.¡±

    John lets out a string of curses, but they¡¯re muffled, like he pulled the phone away from his face.  Then his voicees back full force. ¡°Fucking hell, Sasha. You basically live the life of a fucking nun, then you go out and bag yourself the patriarch of a goddamn crime syndicate. Without even realizing it!¡±

    I can¡¯t help it. I burst outughing. I¡¯mughing so hard I have to move my takeout, so it doesn¡¯t shake off myp and onto the floor.

    A solid minuteter I¡¯m catching my breath when John ends his silence.

    ¡°You done?¡± He does not sound amused.

    ¡°Thank you. I needed that.¡± I chuckle. ¡°Patriarch of a goddamn crime syndicate.¡± I mimic John¡¯s voice. ¡°You¡¯re so dramatic. Go ahead and run your background check. The whole point of my current project is to introduce Vincent to the world. Show that he¡¯s a good guy. That thepany is clean. I mean yes, clearly the mobster background is there, but we already knew that most of the organized crime stuff ended when Vincent¡¯s dad was still in charge. He started turning the businesses legit even back then. Rumor is that¡¯s why he was murdered.¡± My mood sobers at the reminder of that event. ¡°Vincent was there. He witnessed his father¡¯s murder when he was just a kid.¡±

    ¡°I remember reading about that.¡±

    I shake off the dark cloud trying to settle on my shoulders. ¡°Yeah, well they might be on the up-and-up now, but you may want to be careful about running a check on him. I¡¯m not sure how all that stuff works but I imagine there¡¯s a g somewhere. They¡¯ll probably know you¡¯re looking.¡±

    John grunts. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about that. But if I find so much as a toe out of line, I¡¯lle up there and arrest him myself.¡±

    I smile. ¡°I¡¯m no expert, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how your jurisdiction works.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about it.¡± He repeats.

    These damn alpha cavemen idiots.

    ¡°Alright, I gotta go.¡± John says, ending the conversation. ¡°Take care of yourself.¡±

    ¡°Same to you.¡±

    ¡°Try to not sleep with any more mob bosses.¡±

    I hang up on him.

    Just when I think things couldn¡¯t get more messed up. My special agent brother just found out that I¡¯m sleeping with the newest head of the Mazzanti family.

    Correction, I slept with. Past tense. Because that¡¯s not happening ever again.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 13

    Watching the clock on the wall tick around to 1:55 I have to stop myself from puking into my garbage can. With five minutes until my meeting with Vincent I need to get my shit together. There is no way out of this meeting that doesn¡¯t end in my resigning or getting fired. I¡¯ve dealt with intimidating clients in the past so it¡¯s not like I can tell my boss I¡¯m too scared to meet with him. That I am terrified at the idea of being alone in an office with Vincent. With the man who kept his identity a secret even after he obviously knew about our connection.

    My phone beeps with a text.

    Cheryl: Good luck in your meeting with Mr. Sin ?? Let me know if you need help with any of the follow up.

    Cheryl has not been able to shut up about how attractive Mr. Sin is. Just thinking about that stupid nickname has my anger swelling. Mr. Sin indeed. If Cheryl had any idea just how sinful he is, I bet she wouldn¡¯t find this all so amusing.

    With a dramatic sigh, I push out of my seat and head for the elevators. I may not want to do this, but I need to pull up my big girl undies and get it over with. Showing upte would just give Vincent more ammunition against me. Not only will I not give him anything to criticize me for, but I¡¯m also going to blow him away with my creativity and dedication. I¡¯m good at my job, damnit, and he¡¯s going to see that.

    With my renewed sense of purpose, I let determination steel my spine and I practice a few breathing exercises during the elevator ride up to the top floor. When I start to feel slightly lightheaded, I promise myself that I¡¯ll start doing some of my old workout videos again.

    The doors slide open on the executive floor, and I straighten my suit jacket.

    Knowing I¡¯d be facing Vincent today, I dressed in my best power suit. Charcoal grey tailored pants and a matching, fitted, one-button jacket over a blood red satin scoop neck top. My hair is pulled back into a low bun and I¡¯m wearing my no-nonsense pointed-toe ck heels. There is nothing soft or girlie about my outfit. My makeup is simple but deliberate, making my hazel eyes stand out. The only touch of femininity are my pearl stud earrings. They were my mother¡¯s and have always given me strength.

    ¡°Sasha, perfect timing.¡±

    Hearing my name, I turn to see Vincent¡¯s assistant walking my way with a cup of coffee in hand.

    I recognize him from the meetingst week. I¡¯d guess he¡¯s in histe 20¡¯s. He¡¯s tall, slender, blonde, and boy-next-door good looking.

    ¡°Hi, Brent. Nice to see you again.¡± I tell him genuinely.

    I¡¯m d that I ran into him. I didn¡¯t want to aimlessly wander the floor searching for Vincent¡¯s office.

    ¡°Same to you. You look lovely today.¡± Brent says with a smile.

    I fight the scowl that wants to take over my face. Lovely? I¡¯m trying to look like a hardass. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Brent tosses his head back andughs. ¡°You must be one of those people who are ufortable withpliments. Consider it noted.¡± He grins. ¡°Though it won¡¯t stop me from doling them out.¡±

    I grin back. I like this guy more with each passing moment.

    ¡°Follow me. I believe Vincent should be off his call by now and ready for you.¡± I step up next to Brent as I let him lead the way. ¡°Would you care for anything to drink? This coffee is for boss man, but I can grab another for you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no thank you. I¡¯ve probably over-caffeinated already.¡±

    Brent chuckles. ¡°I think I do that every day, and I still never learn.¡±

    I finally look around and nearly trip over my own feet when I see what office he¡¯s leading me to.

    Of fucking course. Why didn¡¯t I think about this sooner?

    Brent must notice my hesitation, thinking it has to do with whom I¡¯m meeting and not where, because he nudges my arm. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he won¡¯t bite.¡±

    I try tough but ites out as more of a choke. Apparently, Brent has never slept with Vincent, otherwise he¡¯d know that the Devil does indeed bite.

    Brent knocks against the door frame before stepping into the office. ¡°Vincent, Sasha is here for your 2 o¡¯clock.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Brent. Send her in.¡±

    I shove my swirling emotions down into a steel box, locking them away, as I step into the office where Vincent fucked me on what is apparently his own desk. Asshole.

    Giving myself a moment, I take in therge office now that everything is moved in. The outer wall is made entirely of floor to ceiling windows, with a great view of downtown Minneapolis. Vincent¡¯s desk is in the same ce as it was before, at the front of the room, allowing Vincent a position of power. From experience I can say that the dark wood construction is well built. Facing his desk is a pair of upholstered visitor chairs. There¡¯s also a couch and a coffee table at the back of the room.

    I allow myself a brief moment to wonder why we had sex on the desk and not the couch before I guide myself towards one of the visitor chairs facing Vincent.

    ¡°Hold my calls, Brent. And close the door behind you.¡±

    Vincent¡¯smand is punctuated by the sound of his office door clicking shut.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 14

    My eyes haven¡¯t left her since she walked through my door, but she hasn¡¯t looked at me. I deserve this treatment. I was an asshole to herst time she was in here. And though it should make me feel like an even bigger ass, I don¡¯t stop myself from watching the sway of her hips as she approaches. I¡¯m sure she meant to look professional, maybe even stern, dressed the way she is, but it¡¯s not working. The jacket entuates her delicious hour-ss figure. The pulled back hair exposes her pale neck, making me want to sink my teeth into her soft flesh. Seeing Sasha all polished and proper only tempts me to tear at her clothing and smudge her makeup.

    When Sasha bends to sit in my visitor¡¯s chair the movement exposes just a touch of cleavage.

    The sound of the door shutting sends blood surging straight to my dick. I told myself I¡¯d stay professional with Sasha from here on out, but being alone again, in this office again, has my body thinking differently.

    I swallow down my lust. ¡°Hello, Sasha.¡±

    My voice sounds too gruff, too loud.

    Her eyes finally snap up to meet mine. ¡°Vincent.¡±

    Her tone is clipped. Meant to be harsh. But I sense a slight tremble. She¡¯s just as affected by our chemistry as I am. Or maybe that¡¯s anger that I¡¯m reading off her.

    I push the feelings away and school my features. ¡°Thank you foring. I¡¯m sure you have a list of questions for me, so why don¡¯t we just get into it.¡±

    Sasha stares at me. I¡¯m being a prick and I know it. Pretending there¡¯s no history here. But there¡¯s no other way for us to get work done. The longer she stares at me, I start to figure that she probably thinks I¡¯m some sort of sociopath.

    I¡¯m about to exin myself when she nods. ¡°Understood.¡± She says with a t voice.

    I see something that looks like eptance pass through her eyes, and I¡¯m not prepared for the sting I feel in my chest. I¡¯m the one that pushed her away. I¡¯m the one that shut us down. I shouldn¡¯t be mad that she¡¯s epting it.

    After Vegas, I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about her. Sure, I¡¯ve been with women before. Had one night stands before. But no one has affected me like Sasha. I craved her. I thought about her long after our single night together. She consumed my thoughts more than I¡¯m even willing to admit to myself. Then when I finally got my hands on her again, on this very desk, I couldn¡¯t control myself. I demanded that she admit to thinking of me too. I forced her to tell me that she missed me. I withheld her pleasure until she told me what I needed to hear. And it was that moment when I realized I¡¯d shown my hand. I¡¯d made it all too obvious that I was attached to her. That I was obsessed with a woman I couldn¡¯t have. A woman I couldn¡¯t keep. And I got pissed. Pissed at myself for feeling so much for her. Pissed at her for making me feel that way.

    So, I pulled away. I withdrew from her, even as I slid my cock inside of her. I regretted my mental barriers even as I was putting them up, but I knew there was no turning back. I can¡¯t afford emotional connections.

    I had fucked up by chasing her down when I saw her in the hallway. I couldn¡¯t me anyone but myself for that. My ownck of control disgusted me so much that I couldn¡¯t even bring myself to look her in the eyes after we were done. I told myself it was because I didn¡¯t want to see the hurt look on her face. But I¡¯m starting to think that was a lie. The look she¡¯s giving me now is worse. The look that says we¡¯re done. That she¡¯s done with me.

    Sasha opens the portfolio in herp and pulls out a pen. ¡°Where have you been?¡±

    Sasha¡¯s words pull me back to our meeting. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    She narrows her eyes, like I¡¯m an idiot. ¡°I¡¯m going to go through the list of questions that you¡¯re most likely to get from reporters the first time you go public.¡± She pauses, I assume to give my dumb monkey brain time to catch up. ¡°So, where have you been? I know you¡¯ve been running Mazzanti Enterprises, but people will want to know where you were living. And of course, why you stayed so private.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Business. I can do business. ¡°I¡¯ve been living in Minnesota.¡±

    Sasha can¡¯t hide the shock on her face. ¡°Really?¡±

    I nod. ¡°As I¡¯m sure you know, my family has lived in and around Minneapolis for generations. When my father was killed here, my mother wanted us to move. We went to Colorado first. Every few years we¡¯d move again. I went to a variety of private schools. For privacy I was registered under my mother¡¯s maiden name, though I never legally changed my name away from Mazzanti. We all knew that one day I would step into this role. I went to Harvard and focused my studies on businessw and economics. When I graduated, I moved to Nevada and worked out of our Vegas offices. Vegas became the sight of the new headquarters after the death of my father, which made it a logical ce for me to start. Throughout the years, I¡¯ve moved to live near several of our office locations. Chicago, Miami, New York. When I was 31, I decided to move back to Minnesota.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± The way Sasha¡¯s head tilts as she asks the question makes me wonder if she wants to know professionally or personally.

    ¡°For my own reasons.¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°No. Not good enough.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± My eyes narrow, unustomed to being challenged.

    ¡°When a reporter asks you why you moved back to Minnesota, a decade before the Mazzanti office was rebuilt, you¡¯re going to need a better response than for my own reasons. That will only cause spection. And thest thing you want right now is spection.¡±

    I want to argue, but she¡¯s right. ¡°I decided I was tired of moving. I¡¯d been doing it since my dad died and I didn¡¯t want to do it anymore. We didn¡¯t have any official offices here at the time, but I was able to conduct arge amount of business out of my home. My mother moved back as well. This is where I grew up. Where she met my dad. It was time toe back.¡± I pause and see that Sasha is still questioning my sincerity. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a secret to my inner circle that there were ns to move the headquarters back to Minnesota. I may have been early to the game but making my permanent home here was the smart long y.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s taking notes so I don¡¯t press to fill the silence that follows as she continues to write.

    She doesn¡¯t take her eyes off her notebook as she asks her next question. ¡°Do you live in the city?¡±

    When I don¡¯t answer she looks up. When I still don¡¯t answer she sets her pen down and rolls her eyes.

    ¡°Look, Mr. Mazzanti, I, Sasha rk, don¡¯t care where you live. I¡¯m not trying to write a tell-all piece on you. If you looked at my contract, you¡¯d know that I can never disclose any information from our conversations outside of sanctioned public rtions events and correspondence. This is a question that you will be asked. If you don¡¯t want to answer, that¡¯s up to you. But if someone asks you where you live, you can¡¯t just stare at them like an entitled prick.¡±

    I¡¯m still stuck on her calling me Mr. Mazzanti. I have a new fantasy and it involves Sasha, librarian sses, a tight skirt, and a stern tone of voice.

    Sasha continues to stare at me silently.

    I sigh. ¡°I live downtown. We own several residential buildings, and I reside in one. My mother is in another. I don¡¯t want to tell the public even that much. I¡¯d prefer to live in a house out in the country. And yes, I do have one. But the apartment provides the level of security that I require. It¡¯s easier to control your surroundings when you have ess to a building¡¯s cameras and records. Mypany may be clean and legal, but that doesn¡¯t make our history disappear. Even without our history, money alone can bring negative attention and threats, and we have plenty of that.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Thank you.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s words shock me. It¡¯s the first positive thing she¡¯s said to me today. ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡±

    She straightens her shoulders. ¡°The legality of your business is going to be brought up. A lot. I know the public records work as proof to the ims of legitimacy, but the same public records are full of sensational stories from the past. We want to be careful to never say the words mob, mobster, gangster, or even organized crime. Whenever we¡¯re asked about the past, we want to refer to it as history. That¡¯s exactly what it is. History. Over and done. But people like a story.¡±

    Sasha pauses and I get the feeling she¡¯s ufortable with what she¡¯s about to say.

    ¡°Go on.¡± I gesture to her.

    She exhales. ¡°When the topic of the Mazzanti family¡¯s questionable historyes up, I would like to turn the focus to Stefano, your father.¡±

    My jaw clenches, but she holds up her hands to halt my rebuttal.

    ¡°Hear me out. My job is to tell you the best way to present information to the public. I¡¯m certain you don¡¯t want sympathy. Just as I¡¯m certain that you don¡¯t want to talk about your father¡¯s death. And you don¡¯t have to. What I¡¯m suggesting is that we put a spotlight on Stefano¡¯s wishes for the future. He wanted a legacy he could pass down to his son. A legacy built on hard work and dedication. Not one tainted with blood and crime. He paid the ultimate price for his desires, but over the past 30 years Mazzanti Enterprises has built the business that Stefano could only dream of.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s wordse out quiet by the end of her little speech, and I don¡¯t know what to say. She¡¯s absolutely right. Every word. Suddenly, I¡¯m filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.

    Sasha¡¯s soft voice fills my ears. ¡°I am sorry for your loss. And for bringing it up. But you¡¯ll need to prepare yourself for having this conversation.¡±

    I tip my chin in agreement. ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°We have just under two weeks to prepare for the press conference that you¡¯re hosting here next Friday. I¡¯ll work with the in-house team to put together a list of talking points for you and to create an informational document that will be handed out to the attendees. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll have some follow up items for you to address, but we should have plenty of time to put our n together.¡±

    I withhold myints. I¡¯m not looking forward to hosting that circus.

    Instead, I just nod. ¡°I¡¯ll make myself avable.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now as long as you keep your nose clean moving forward, we shouldn¡¯t have any problems.¡±

    She¡¯s lightening the mood, and I appreciate the gesture. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡±

    She writes another note then looks up. ¡°That includes breaking arms in back alleys.¡±

    It takes me a second to realize what she¡¯s talking about. Then a genuineugh bursts out of me. From the look on Sasha¡¯s face, I don¡¯t think my reaction could have surprised her more if I pped her in the face.

    Smiling, I shake my head. ¡°That asshole had iting.¡±

    Her mouth pops open. The sight has me shifting in my seat.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t really¡­¡± Her question trails off.

    ¡°Pretty sure you don¡¯t want me to answer that.¡±

    I watch her throat move as she swallows. ¡°Did you know¡­ Did you know who I was when you intervened in the bar that night?¡±

    Her question takes me off guard. ¡°No. Of course not. You were just some woman.¡±

    As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. I watch as the look on her face goes from relief to hurt. I didn¡¯t mean for that to sound so rude.

    ¡°Okay. Good.¡± She starts to pack her notes away. ¡°And for the record, I didn¡¯t know who you were either. Not until you walked into that meeting.¡±

    She looks at my desk. The gesture is not lost on me.

    ¡°I saw you in the hallway.¡± The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and her eyes dart up to mine.

    I exin further. ¡°You walked past a conference room that I was in. I didn¡¯t know who you were when I chased after you. I hadn¡¯t even had time to think about the fact that you¡¯d be working here. I was hoping to catch you in the lobby. It was just luck that you happened to be in the elevator when the doors opened.¡±

    She gives me one curt nod. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Okay?

    She sets her folder on my desk and stands. ¡°I think we can both agree that we should never do that again.¡±

    I stand too. ¡°Why?¡±

    I know why. Because we¡¯re working together now. Because I already feel too much for her. Because it¡¯s an overall terrible idea. But I don¡¯t like her calling the shots.

    Sasha¡¯s hands fist at her sides. ¡°Why? Because you¡¯re a giant bastard. That¡¯s why. Even if you weren¡¯t the real-life Mr. Sin. We¡¯d be over. The way you treated mest time. That was uneptable.¡±

    I step around my desk. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s mouth opens and closes. She wasn¡¯t expecting me to agree. And as I take another step towards her, she takes a step back.

    Her chin tips up. ¡°Good. I¡¯m d we agree.¡±

    I step closer. ¡°I agree that I¡¯m a bastard. And I apologize for my behavior. But we¡¯re not done until I say we¡¯re done.¡±

    She steps back. ¡°Vincent.¡±

    I step closer and smirk. ¡°Call me Mr. Mazzanti again.¡±

    She stops. ¡°We can¡¯t do this.¡±

    I step closer. ¡°We just need ground rules.¡±

    ¡°Rules?¡±

    Another step closer. ¡°This¡± gesturing between us, ¡°is just fucking. That¡¯s all it can be. That¡¯s all I have to offer.¡±

    She crosses her arms over her chest. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t date you, even if you asked.¡±

    I step closer still, bringing us nearly chest to chest. ¡°Oh yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Her head is tilted back so she can look into my eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t date assholes.¡±

    Heat floods my blood. Half lust. Half rage at the idea of her dating someone else.

    My hands grip her shoulders and spin her around. With an arm around her waist and one over her chest I pull her so her back is pressed against me. I run my nose up the side of her neck, then lightly bite her ear lobe. ¡°Sounds like we agree, sweetheart.¡±

    Arching her back, Sasha presses her ass back into me. I squeeze her tighter and grind my cock against her. Our little sparring match has me rock hard.

    Sasha tilts her head back against my chest so she can look up at me. ¡°I¡¯m considering your offer.¡±

    I grin. ¡°Just considering? Guess I need to work on my sales pitch.¡±

    I continue to grind against her as I pop the button on her suit jacket. I can¡¯t strip her down like I want to, but I can feel her. I palm her breasts over her shirt. Her bra is thin enough that I can feel her nipples pebble beneath my touch.

    I groan and pinch them. ¡°Fuck, baby. I bet you¡¯re already wet for me. Aren¡¯t you?¡±

    I keep one hand on her glorious tit, the other slides down her stomach and down the front of her pants.

    Her breath is alreadying in pants. ¡°What, think you can get me off this time? Or do you need my help again?¡±

    Sassy girl. I slide my hand further down and my fingers brush against her slick pussy. In one quick movement I bury two fingers inside her.

    She gasps and before she can make another noise my other hand leaves her chest and covers her mouth.

    ¡°Gotta stay quiet for me, sweetheart. Save those screams for when I¡¯m the only one who can hear them.¡±

    My fingers pump in and out of her while my thumb rubs circles against her clit. She¡¯s so wet. So hot. So tight.

    I grind against her even harder. I¡¯m in danger ofing in my pants, but I can¡¯t stop.

    Her moans are getting louder, and my fingers start working faster. I get lost in the feeling of her. The sounds. The smell of her. Her warmth against me.

    I know her body. I know her reactions. I can feel her getting closer. She¡¯s moments away from an orgasm.

    ¡°That¡¯s it. Come for me, sweetheart.¡± Her body tenses. ¡°Come on my fingers.¡±

    I can feel her mouth open in a silent scream against my palm, as her body shudders. Watching her pleasure has me on edge.

    When she stops pulsing, I gently pull my hand out of her panties, dragging a finger up along her clit. I remove my palm from over her mouth and she tips her head back to watch me lick my fingers clean. Moaning at the taste.

    Sasha watches me with an open mouth while she grinds her ass back against my still painfully hard cock.

    ¡°On your knees.¡±

    Themand is out before I even realize what I¡¯m saying. I expect her to object. Maybe even p me. But she doesn¡¯t.

    Turning to face me, Sasha does exactly what I told her to do, she drops to her knees. Her hand traces my length before she pulls my zipper down and frees my cock. A shiver runs up my spine as her fingers gently wrap around the head before sliding down to the base of my dick.

    I bite back a growl. ¡°Open up, baby.¡±

    Her lips part, then close around me.

    I groan. ¡°Good girl.¡±

    I can¡¯t take my eyes off her. I want to memorize this image. This perfect creature, kneeling at my feet, head bobbing, my cock buried in her hot throat, the taste of her pussy still on my lips.

    ¡°I¡¯m close.¡± I warn her.

    I should be embarrassed at how quickly I¡¯m going toe, but this feels too good for me to care. And it was her pussy mping down on my fingers that got me so worked up in the first ce.

    Sasha takes me deeper and I lose what¡¯s left of my restraint. My hands go to the back of her head, holding her steady and I pump into her.

    I hang on for as long as I can. Taking in every detail. Every sound she makes. With a final thrust, Ie down her throat.

    I probably would have cked out if it weren¡¯t for her small hands gripping my thighs, her nails digging through my pants creating little pricks of pain. Those pinpricks kept me grounded.

    My hands are still gripped into Sasha¡¯s hair. My fingers loosening her perfect strands, giving her the freshly fucked look. Her lips pop as she releases me from her mouth.

    Tipping her head back, Sasha looks up at me. She might be the one on the floor, but the look in her eyes is full of triumph. And fuck if she didn¡¯t earn that look.

    I brush a lock back behind her ear before I move my hands under her arms and lift her to her feet.

    Straightening her clothes, she watches me zip up my pants. ¡°Well, this didn¡¯t go as I nned.¡± She mutters.

    I smirk. ¡°Then you and I had vastly different ns for this meeting. I¡¯d say it couldn¡¯t have gone better.¡±

    Sasha rolls her eyes at me and pulls her hair free from the tie holding it back. She starts to do that thing girls do when they gather it back up, when the doorknob starts to turn.

    We hear it at the same time, ncing at each other, realizing that we never locked the office door.

    Sasha drops her hands, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, as I take a step away from her. Compromising position or not, I prepare myself toy into whichever jackass thinks it¡¯s okay to just walk into my office.

    The door swings open and a blonde angel bounds through.

    ¡°Annie?¡± The shock in my voice is evident.

    She grins while running towards me to wrap her arms around me in a hug. ¡°Hey, dad!¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 15

    Dad?

    DAD!

    What. In the actual. Fuck.

    Just when I think this thing with Vincent can¡¯t get any moreplicated¡­ This motherfucker has a child. A freaking daughter. A beautiful little golden-haired girl.

    I¡¯m not good at guessing ages but I¡¯d put her around 10. She¡¯s beautiful and petite and she looks nothing like Vincent. She¡¯s the light to his dark. Except for the eyes. There¡¯s no mistaking those striking dark orbs. And for some disturbing reason, the knowledge that he had a child with some woman has my heart folding in on itself. A detail that he definitely didn¡¯t mention in the little rundown of his life that he just gave me.

    ¡°What are you doing here, princess?¡± Vincent greets her with aplicated fist bump.

    ¡°Sorry!¡± Brent rushes into the office a moment behind the little girl. ¡°I told her you were in a meeting but when the phone rang, she snuck past me.¡±

    The girl rolls her eyes. ¡°Come on, Brenty. Dad told me he has an open-door policy. That means I cane in whenever I want.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, sir.¡± Brent says again, still standing behind the child, wringing his hands.

    Vincent waves him off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. We just finished.¡±

    I feel a flush crawl up my cheeks at his choice of words.

    Brent¡¯s eyes dart to me and I watch his eyebrows go up, just a little. The blush on my face grows stronger and I hope like hell that my lips aren¡¯t red and puffy from sucking his boss¡¯s dick. Not to mention the fact that there¡¯s nothing I can do about my suddenly wild hair. There¡¯s literally no good reason for me to have pulled my bun loose during our meeting, and we both know it. I can only pray that Brent doesn¡¯t say anything. To anyone. Ever.

    When I move to grab my folder off the desk, I feel all the attention in the room turn to me. Doing my best to act casual, I school my features and meet the eyes watching me.

    Vincent¡¯s daughter¡¯s stare is full of judgement. People always overlook kids, but they see more than anyone gives them credit for. And this kid is seeing straight through our bullshit and she¡¯s not impressed.

    Vincent watches me, devoid of emotion. No sign of the man who just frantically brought me to orgasm. No sign of the man who gently tucked a section of my hair behind my ear after roughly plunging himself down my throat. No sign of recognition at all. Just the nk face of a man who clearly intended to keep his child a secret.

    I force a smile onto my lips. ¡°Thank you for your time, Mr. Mazzanti. I¡¯m sure I¡¯lle up with some more questions for you.¡±

    Not waiting for a dismissal, I stride out of the office as quickly as possible, avoiding eye contact with Brent as I slip past him.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 16

    As soon as I got out of that cursed office, I grabbed my things and came straight home. This way if I spontaneously die of mortification, I won¡¯t be a burden for the M.E. cleaning crew.

    Solitude may be good for containing my shame, but it¡¯s fuel on the fire of my rabid imagination. Vincent has a kid. I was initially struck with a pang ofpletely misced jealousy. He¡¯s not mine. I have no im to Vincent. But I couldn¡¯t stop myself from wondering about the woman he had a kid with? Where is she? What does she look like? Is she prettier than me? Thinner than me?

    The jealousy swiftly turned to dread. What if Vincent¡¯s still with her. Involved with her. Married to her. That would make me the other woman. That thought alone propelled me to move at warp speed to get out of the building.

    The fresh air on my walk home from the office helped to calm my nerves and convince me of one thing; I need to talk to Vincent again. But since I was certain he¡¯d ignore any meeting request that I sent through Brent, I decided that I needed to correspond directly with Vincent. Unfortunately, I have no way to do that. No email address. No phone number. Not even the extension to his office phone. So, I asked Brent. Well, actually I emailed Brent saying Vincent told me to send a list of my questions directly to him, but I forgot to get Vincent¡¯s email before I left the meeting. It¡¯s all bullshit of course, but it sounded reasonable. I hope.

    I sent that email to Brent ten minutes ago. And instead of getting any actual work done, I¡¯ve been sitting on my couch, Captain sprawled next to me, constantly refreshing my email, praying for a reply.

    Ten more minutes go by.

    Then an hour.

    Then another hour.

    By 7:00 I ept that Brent isn¡¯t going to give me Vincent¡¯s email.

    By 8:00 I¡¯ve opened a bottle of wine.

    By 10:00 I¡¯m three sses in.

    By 10:30 I¡¯m in my pajamas, curled up in bed with Captain, phone held a few inches above my face, and I¡¯m a dozen videos deep into a YouTube spiral of best ces to visit while traveling alone.

    I¡¯m watching a clip of a person hiking through some Norwegian mountains, with a name I won¡¯t even try to pronounce, when my phone screen changes to announce an iing call. The change, and the ringtone bursting through the speakers, startles me so much that I drop the phone and it smashes into my nose.

    ¡°Shit!¡± I scramble to retrieve my phone while frantically rubbing my nose. The number is disyed as private. I wouldn¡¯t usually answer an unknown number, but it¡¯s probably my brother. Sometimes he gets thrown into a casest minute and has to go dark for a while. When that happens, he always calls me first.

    I hit ept and sit up. ¡°John? Hello?¡±

    There¡¯s a pause and I worry I might have missed the call.

    Before I can pull the phone away from my face to check the connection, a voice cuts through the silence. ¡°Who the fuck is John?¡±

    Even my wineden brain knows that voice.

    ¡°Vincent?¡± I ask, hardly believing it¡¯s him.

    ¡°Who. The fuck. Is John.¡± He sounds pissed.

    Well, so am I.

    ¡°None of your business, Vincent.¡± I snap. ¡°Who¡¯s the small, beautiful blonde that burst into your office calling you dad?¡±

    ¡°Annie is not up for discussion.¡±

    I scoff. ¡°Uneptable. I¡¯m your PR consultant. I need to know these things.¡±

    ¡°She has nothing to do with mypany.¡± He bites.

    ¡°I disagree. She ys a role whether you like it or not. You need to have an answer when you¡¯re asked about her. And you will be asked about her. If I¡¯ve seen her, then you can bet other people have too. This is what you hired me for. You¡¯re paying me for my opinion.¡±

    ¡°For now.¡± His tone is cold as he delivers thement.

    I mp my mouth shut and close my eyes.

    I¡¯m so stupid. How could I forget who I was talking to? This is Vincent Mazzanti. Right now he¡¯s not the guy I met in the bar, he¡¯s the man who runs Mazzanti Enterprises. The man who has my career in his hands. My boss might overlook me sleeping with someone on the security team, but she won¡¯t overlook me sleeping with the CEO of our clientpany, subsequently getting our firm dismissed from the contract. I wouldn¡¯t just get reprimanded. I¡¯d get fired.

    I tighten my grip on the phone. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have pushed. You¡¯re right. I won¡¯t ask about her. I¡¯ll make a note in the file that she¡¯s off limits. Please don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡±

    I hang up the call. My fingers are trembling so bad it takes me two tries.

    ¡°Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.¡± I drop the phone and bury my face in my hands.

    Captain must feel the tension radiating off of me, because he¡¯s hauled himself off his nket to bump his head against mine. Blindly, I reach out and pull him into myp. ¡°Cap, what have I done?¡±

    Captain doesn¡¯t have the answers, no matter how much I wish he did. I lean forward and rub my still stinging nose against his fur. I won¡¯t cry. Not yet. Not until I know the oue of my most recent fuck up.

    Breathing in through my nose, I work on slowing my racing heart. Counting the beats of each inhale and exhale, I¡¯m on my fifth set when my phone chimes. Not with a call. Not with a text. But with a calendar invite.

    Vincent has sent me a meeting invite for Friday at 4:00. The invitation isbeled PR Consultation. The meeting notes only include his email and phone number.

    I shakily hit ept before falling back against the pillows.

    The movement dislodges Captain, and he stretches before making his way back to his usual sleeping spot. Plopping down he gives me some serious side eye.

    ¡°I promise. Nothing but professional from here on out.¡± I tell my cat.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 17

    I prop my hip against the corner of Brent¡¯s desk and hand him arge, iced carameltte from BeanBag.

    Brent grins. ¡°Now, why on earth would my favorite girl be bringing me something from the best coffee spot in the city?¡±

    ¡°Why do I need a reason?¡± I bat my eyes at him. ¡°Maybe I just thought you deserved a drink as sweet as your handsome, brilliant, talented self.¡±

    Brent tosses his head backughing. ¡°Keep iting, doll.¡± He rolls his hand in a motion for me to continue.

    I settle back, crossing my feet at the ankles, and tick off the reasons on my fingers. ¡°You¡¯re the best. You¡¯re the most amazing. You have the best hair. Your clothes are immacte. Your tie brings out the color of your eyes perfectly.¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay. You¡¯ve convinced me.¡± He smirks and leans closer to talk quietly. ¡°Just so you can rest easy, know that my lips are sealed. I won¡¯t tell a soul. Just so long as you eventually give me some details.¡±

    ¡°Details?¡± I ask.

    He wiggles his eyebrows. ¡°Is he built the way I imagine he is?¡±

    I p a hand over my mouth to stop theugh from falling out. ¡°Oh my god, Brent!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± He shrugs. ¡°The guy I just started dating actually looks a lot like Vincent, only 20 years younger. Makes me wonder just how simr they are.¡±

    I shake my head. Brent and I have exchanged many emails over the past few days and yesterday for lunch he came down to meet with us lowly folks a few floors down. His man-whore ways are apparently well-known, so I¡¯m not surprised that he¡¯s dating someone new after just ending a rtionship. And even though he¡¯s a gossip, I trust him to keep this information safe.

    Grinning, I say, ¡°I¡¯d need to be very drunk in order to take this conversation further.¡±

    ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready, let me know. I¡¯ll bring the tequ.¡±

    ¡°I just bet you would. How does your boyfriend feel about twinning it with your boss?¡±

    Brent scoffs. ¡°Dating, not boyfriend. But honestly, he¡¯d probably get off on it. If I told him about the whole look-a-like thing, he¡¯d want to role y.¡±

    ¡°I can see it now. The spreadsheets. The overuse of Mister.¡±

    ¡°Do go on.¡± Brent fans himself. ¡°Don¡¯t forget a cute little thing in a ssic secretary outfit.¡± I raise my eyebrows and Brent winks. ¡°We¡¯re equal opportunity lovers. Why limit yourself to one set of naughty bits.¡±

    Iugh again. ¡°I feel like our friendship just leaped over a few steps.¡±

    Brent pats my knee. ¡°Doll, I have no boundaries. I¡¯d apologize, but that¡¯s just the way I am.¡±

    ¡°I picked up on that already.¡± I smile.

    ¡°Brent!¡±

    Vincent¡¯s booming voice has both of us jumping. A squeak of surprise pops out of my mouth as I jolt upwards. My feet are still crossed, so I start to tip over. Before I can correct myself, Vincent¡¯srge hand closes around my upper arm, steadying me.

    I nce up at him, but he¡¯s still focused on Brent.

    ¡°If you¡¯re done chatting, I¡¯d like to start my meeting. Hold my calls.¡± Vincent¡¯s tone is clipped with anger.

    I don¡¯t fight against his grip as he walks me into his office, but I look back in time to catch Brent fighting a grin. He should be chastised, but for some reason he seems to find this funny. I roll my eyes at him a moment before I pass through the threshold into Vincent¡¯s office.

    When Vincent releases my arm to close the door, I remember why I¡¯m here today. And my mood sobers.

    I haven¡¯t talked to Vincent since I hung up on him a few days ago. I have however, dwelled on the fact that he has a daughter. Not only for professional, public rtion reasons, but also for personal reasons. For the sake of my career, I need to find a way to separate the two. I can¡¯t forget hisment implying that he could fire me. It¡¯s a very real possibility if I continue to push him. Sexual history or not.

    We sit at the same time, locking eyes over the top of his desk.

    I take a deep breath to gather my courage. ¡°I know your daughter isn¡¯t something you want to discuss, but in order to do my job to the best of my abilities, I need to know everything about you.¡±

    ¡°Everything?¡± There is no teasing in Vincent¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Within reason, yes. You might not see how your family is relevant to my job, but it very well could be. None of this needs to be a big deal. You having a child doesn¡¯t have to be newsworthy. But you hiding the fact that you have a child¡­ That doesn¡¯t look good. It could be construed as you being embarrassed about her, or ashamed of having her. There will be spection as to why you hid her, and it will cause spection about her mother. People will want to know the story. And the more you avoid it, the more of a scandal it will be.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve kept her away from the press for 11 years. I don¡¯t n to stop now.¡± Vincent snaps.

    I sigh. ¡°People didn¡¯t know your face before. You could walk down the street with your kid and no one would look twice. But trust me, after we do the press conference next week, everyone will recognize you. And before you try to cancel, remember that this is the best move. Putting you in front of the camera, clearing the air around Mazzanti Enterprises, announcing Marie¡¯s House, this is what yourpany needs.¡±

    Vincent cuts me off. ¡°I¡¯m not going to parade her around to the press.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not suggesting that you have your daughter on stage with you. I¡¯m not even suggesting that you talk about her at the press conference. But we need to prepare for when the media finds out about her. Because they will. Someone will see you two in public. Or someone from her school will recognize you. Or one of your staff members here will say something. They might not tell the media directly, but they could mention the beautiful little girl at their office to their friend or spouse and it goes from there. Those are all situations that we don¡¯t get to control. If someone had found out about herst week and confronted me about your mystery daughter, it would have been obvious that I knew nothing about her. That would¡¯ve been a disaster. You have to see that.¡±

    Vincent stares at me, jaw clenching.

    Finally, he blows out a breath. ¡°Her name is Annie. She¡¯s 11. She¡¯s starting 6th grade next year, and you¡¯re right, this is probably going to make her life hell.¡±

    My frustration with him softens. He sounds like a worried father. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to. It will be a change for sure, but we can manage it. The sooner we can introduce her to the world, the sooner they¡¯ll move on. We can n something casual where you¡¯ll be photographed together and where we can control the narration. Vincent and his daughter Annie toured the new location for Marie¡¯s House together. Or something like that, and then we move the story on.¡±

    Vincent runs a hand over his face. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± I brace myself for this next question. ¡°What about the mother?¡±

    Vincent drops his hand and narrows his eyes at me. ¡°What about her?¡±

    I swallow. ¡°Who is she? Are you two¡­¡±

    ¡°Are we what, Sasha?¡±

    He wants me to say it? Fine. ¡°Are you still with her? Are you going to tell me next that you¡¯re secretly married?¡±

    Vincent smirks. ¡°Would that bother you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it would bother me! It would bother me a great deal to find out that I¡¯m the other woman! It would bother me to know that I¡¯d been with someone who was such a giant asshole!¡± I catch myself before my voice raises to a shout.

    He waits a beat before replying. ¡°I¡¯m not married.¡±

    I stare at him waiting for more of an exnation, but he stays quiet.

    I roll my eyes. ¡°d we cleared that up. Please, Vincent, give me something here.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s gaze turns cold. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to tell. She¡¯s not around. She has nothing to do with Annie. There will be no names, no details. No exceptions.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    Vincent cuts me off again. ¡°She won¡¯t be a problem. And I won¡¯t have anyone talking about her. If they try, it¡¯s your job to deal with it.¡±

    ¡°How are you so sure she won¡¯t be a problem? Is there an NDA involved? Does she have family that might speak out?¡± I ask.

    ¡°This is not a topic that¡¯s up for discussion.¡±

    ¡°Vincent¡­¡±

    He leans over his desk to interrupt me once more. ¡°Who¡¯s John?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± My face scrunches up in confusion.

    ¡°When I called you Monday night, you answered the phone expecting a John. After 10:00 at night. On an unlisted number.¡±

    My mouth drops open. Is this dipshit for real?

    Vincent gestures towards his office door. ¡°Just how many men are you sleeping with, Sasha?¡±

    My eyes follow the gesture. Does he¡­ Does this moron think I¡¯m sleeping with Brent, too?

    I slowly get to my feet. ¡°Mr. Mazzanti, I respect the position of power that you have over me. I understand that you hold my career in your hands. I understand that you don¡¯t often get challenged. But you have, once again, gone too far. And before your overactive Neanderthal brain goes further down this jacked up rabbit hole, allow me to set a few things straight.¡± I gesture towards his office door like he just did. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you think you saw out there, but that was Brent telling me about the guy he¡¯s dating.¡±

    The look on Vincent¡¯s face tells me this fact is a shock to him. Brent does nothing to hide his sexuality. He has a pride g on his desk for fuck¡¯s sake. If Vincent is surprised by this information, he¡¯s the only one.

    I scoff. ¡°He¡¯s bi, you jackass. All you need to do is pay just a little bit of attention to someone other than yourself. And in case you didn¡¯t notice, when Brent chased Annie into your office the other day, it took him all of about two seconds to figure out what we¡¯d been doing in here. I might not know him well, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯s smart enough to not reach for sloppy seconds from his boss.¡± I lean forward onto the desk. ¡°Not that that will be a concern anymore, because you and I are through.¡±

    I push myself away from his desk and stride to the door. With my hand on the handle, I look back at Vincent. ¡°And John? John is important to me. I love him. And he loves me. Because he¡¯s my fucking brother.¡±

    I yank open the door, making sure to m it shut behind me.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 18

    I scrub my hands over my face. I couldn¡¯t have fucked that up more if I tried. She¡¯s right. About everything. But mostly about me being a jackass.

    How could I not know that John was the name of her brother? I guess a better question is how would I know the name of her brother? It¡¯s not like I¡¯ve spent any time getting to know her. Not that I should. I have Annie. She¡¯s my girl. She¡¯s my everything. She needs me and I need her. Anyone else is just aplication. And I don¡¯t need any moreplications in my life.

    And she said it. What we had is over. Done. No more.

    It¡¯s the right call. One I should have made before now.

    I pick up my phone and dial my cousin¡¯s number.

    ¡°Vinny.¡± Angelo says in greeting.

    I roll my eyes. Angelo is the only person who dares to call me that. ¡°I need a favor.¡±

    He scoffs. ¡°Of course, you do. I¡¯m great by the way. I found a new gym that¡¯s super kickass.¡±

    ¡°Why, they have extra wide doors for your fat ass to fit through?¡±

    Angeloughs. ¡°Uh huh. Good joke from a string bean.¡±

    I¡¯m not slender. Not a bit. But next to Angelo I look like a fucking kid. If I didn¡¯t know him like a brother, I¡¯d swear he had steroids in his baby form. But he¡¯s just that damn big. Monster gics. And a lot of gym time.

    ¡°I¡¯m the pretty face of thepany, remember.¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re the big scary Head of Security. If I looked like you then they¡¯d never believe the family was clean.¡±

    Angelo hums his agreement. ¡°True enough. Now what¡¯s this favor?¡±

    ¡°I need you to run someone.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Name?¡±

    ¡°Sasha rk.¡±

    ¡°She work here?¡± Angelo asks. I can already hear him typing on hisputer.

    ¡°Not exactly.¡±

    His typing stops. ¡°Well does she, or not? We already have background checks on every employee.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a consultant.¡±

    It¡¯s silent for a second before Angelo whistles. ¡°Sasha? Isn¡¯t that the curvy little sex pot with the PR firm?¡±

    I grit my teeth. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Interesting.¡± Angelo drags the word out. ¡°Speaking of pretty girls, how¡¯s my niece?¡±

    I drop my head against the back of my chair and groan. ¡°Annie¡¯s great. Spending the summer getting spoiled by her grandma.¡±

    ¡°Lucky kid. Your momma is the best. So why does that have you sounding so unhappy?¡±

    I shut my eyes. ¡°Annie came bursting into my office the other day.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So, it was a close fucking call, and I feel like the worst father in the world.¡±

    ¡°Close call, as in¡­¡± Angelo lets the question trail off.

    ¡°As in, had she been two minutes sooner she¡¯d have gotten an eyeful of something no kid ever wants to see their parent doing.¡±

    I can tell Angelo is trying not tough. ¡°Oh man. Tell me you weren¡¯t banging this chick in your office, in the middle of the day, with the door open.¡±

    ¡°Technically we weren¡¯t banging. And the door was shut. It just wasn¡¯t locked.¡±

    Now he¡¯s full outughing. ¡°Vinny, you¡¯re a fucking moron.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t I know it.¡± I grumble. ¡°A lucky moron.¡±

    ¡°As your security expert, might I suggest locking your door before your next afternoon delight?¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± I groan.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get your run on Sasha and send it to your personal email.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, man.¡±

    ¡°Later, Casanova.¡± Angelo chuckles as he hangs up the phone.

    I still have a couple hours before my mom¡¯s due back with Annie, but I turn off myputer anyway. I¡¯ll work from home, so I¡¯ll be there when they return. I know their smiling faces will help to lighten my mood.

    Then my phone rings and I sag. My mom doesn¡¯t make a habit out of calling me while she¡¯s with Annie, so I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s been a change of ns.

    ¡°Hi, mom.¡±

    ¡°Hi, darling.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I ask, knowing my mom will get right to the point.

    ¡°Annie¡¯s friend Bethany invited her to go to a movie tonight. It¡¯s one of those musical types. The ones you hate.¡±

    ¡°You hate them, too.¡± I point out.

    Mom huffs. ¡°That may be true, but I don¡¯t make a big fuss about it. Unlike some people we know.¡±

    ¡°She wants to go tonight?¡± I already feel defeated before she even answers.

    ¡°Yes. With a stop off for dinner.¡±

    My initial reaction is to say no. Annie knows how much I hatest minute changes to her schedule. Almost as much as I hate going to those damn singing movies. And I could really use some quality time with her after the day I¡¯ve had. But thinking of my day reminds me of my conversation with Sasha, and how the press conference next week is going to impact Annie¡¯s life. Once it¡¯s out that she¡¯s my daughter, that she¡¯s a Mazzanti, her life is going to getplicated. And dangerous.

    ¡°Fine. Under two conditions. You go with them. And you tell Max to bring a second man to escort you both.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him as soon as we hang up.¡± Mom agrees.

    My mom might be argumentative, but Annie¡¯s safety is something we both agree upon. Max is their usual bodyguard, and he¡¯s more than capable of handling this on their own, but another guard can¡¯t hurt.

    I sigh. ¡°Let me know when you¡¯re on the way home.¡±

    ¡°Will do. Love you, son.¡±

    I set my phone onto my desk and drop my head against the back of my chair. I¡¯ll have to find a time to talk to Annie about all of this soon. Before next Friday. It¡¯s not like Annie doesn¡¯t know about our family history. So that won¡¯t be a surprise. But at school she¡¯s just known as Annie Mazz. I¡¯ve arranged the fake name with the principals at all of her schools. But once my face is out there, it won¡¯t take long for her ssmates to figure it out, even with the partial name. As of now, they just think I¡¯m some overprotective rich asshole and that¡¯s why she has a bodyguard. Not that it¡¯s a wrong assumption. It¡¯s just not the whole picture.

    Why is it so hard to raise a small human?

    Shutting my eyes, I let my thoughts drift to my childhood. It¡¯s so different to be the parent. There are so many things to think of. Safety, food, friends, socializing, manners¡­ I¡¯d be lost without my mom¡¯s help. I don¡¯t know how she did it with me on her own.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 19

    ¡°Dad!¡± The scream tears from my throat.

    He doesn¡¯t hear me. My eyes bounce back and forth between him and the gunmen.

    ¡°Dad!¡± I scream again.

    Henry asks me what¡¯s wrong, but there¡¯s no time to exin. I start to scramble across the seat. I can get out using my dad¡¯s door. But then the gunfire starts.

    The rear window shatters into a million pieces.

    I open my mouth to yell for my dad one more time, but the sound is drowned out by the echoing pop of guns.

    Bits of ss are hitting my face and arms. I¡¯m frozen in shock. I need to help but I can¡¯t move.

    Staring at my dad, I watch in horror as everything happens in slow motion.

    His eyes move to meet mine. I can¡¯t hear him over the deafening noise, but I see his mouth move.

    My name.

    ¡°Vincent.¡±

    My name is all that leaves his lips before a bullet rips into his chest. His eyes nce down, as if he needs to confirm what struck him, beforeing back up to look at me.

    I¡¯m still frozen, still stuck in ce. Helplessly, I watch as blood starts to spread across his white shirt. It¡¯s too much blood. It¡¯s growing too fast.

    He uses a hand to gesture for me to get down.

    I don¡¯t want to, but when another car window breaks, I roll to the floor of the backseat. Curled up like the scared child I am.

    Vibrations roll through my skull. I think I¡¯m still yelling for my dad.

    I look up between the seats towards Henry, he¡¯ll know what to do. I start to call out to him, but his body is slumped over the steering wheel. I don¡¯t want to look, but my eyes move on their own and I see the blood that¡¯s sttered across the inside of the windshield.

    Then just as suddenly as it started, the gunfire stops. Everything goes quiet for a moment. Until the screaming begins.

    I mber across the floor and reach for the door handle. It takes me three tries before I get a good grip and yank the door open.

    Falling out of the car, Ind at my dad¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Dad!¡± My ears are still ringing but I can hear my voice enough to recognize that I¡¯m crying. ¡°Dad!¡±

    I crawl up towards his head, chunks of broken ss digging into my palms.

    There¡¯s a second circle of blood on his shirt. This one lower, in his stomach. The blood isn¡¯t spreading, and I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s good or bad.

    Dad¡¯s hand reaches out for me. Taking it, I grip his fingers as tight as I can.

    ¡°Dad. What do I do? I don¡¯t know what to do!¡±

    His fingers squeeze mine back as his eyes close. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay.¡±

    His words are a whisper, but they¡¯ll be forever etched onto my soul.

    ¡°No!¡±

    My shout jolts me awake. My heart is beating wildly, and my palms are sweaty.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I bend forward, resting my elbows onto my knees. ¡°Fuck.¡±

    Still sitting in my office, I realize I fell asleep while thinking about my dad.

    Dreaming about that day isn¡¯t new, but it always ends when the shooting starts. I always wake up before dad gets hit. Always. Until today.

    My hands are shaking. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fingers into fists. It¡¯s not like I wasn¡¯t there, like I didn¡¯t already live that nightmare in reality. But to have to see it all again, in such perfect detail¡­

    ¡°Fuck.¡± This time my cursees out as a whisper.

    When my phone rings, I startle. Goddamnit that dream has me on edge.

    I debate ignoring the call, but it¡¯s Angelo.

    I answer. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Vin, what do you know about this girl?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Sasha rk. The girl you wanted me to run.¡± He lets a pause hang between us. ¡°Dude, you called me like an hour ago to run her. Did you forget already?¡±

    Shaking off the dreamworld, I sit up straighter. ¡°Sorry, lots on my mind. You¡¯re done already?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, not much to find. She¡¯s 30. Rents a nice apartment a few blocks from her office. Which happens to only be a few blocks from our new office. It¡¯s not a cheap apartment, but she makes good money and can afford it. Has a decent credit score. Other than some pricey clothes, there¡¯s nothing really shy about her lifestyle. Nothing that stands out as a red g.¡±

    That sounds like the Sasha I know. ¡°Okay. Family?¡±

    ¡°Not much. Dad did the disappearing act when she was a baby. Mom died when she was in college, from some sort of medical thing, best I can tell. But this next part is where it gets interesting.¡±

    I know he doesn¡¯t mean to be callous, but this information has me feeling defensive of Sasha. She¡¯s an orphan. Never even had a dad. Lost her mom when she was just starting to be an adult. My mood was already shit after that dream, but this is sending me deeper into the darkness.

    Angelo continues. ¡°One brother, named John. Older by five years. His tracks disappear after the academy.¡±

    ¡°The academy?¡± I repeat.

    ¡°Yeah. Your girl¡¯s brother was a cop.¡±

    That is interesting. ¡°What do you mean was? I know for a fact that she still talks to him. He¡¯s not dead.¡±

    I can hear the smugness in Angelo¡¯s voice. ¡°Nope, not dead. Just a change of career. He¡¯s in the FBI. Special Agent John rk based out of Chicago. And here¡¯s the best part, he heads up a task force specializing in, you guessed it, organized fucking crime.¡±

    My grip on reality must be slipping, because the next thing I know, I¡¯mughing so hard I almost fall out of my chair.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 20

    ¡°I think that wraps it up. Thanks, guys.¡± I smile at the group sitting around the conference table with me.

    I¡¯ve been given free rein to use these five employees from M.E.¡¯s internal PR team. They¡¯re all very cooperative and seem to be team yers. Which is good since it¡¯s already nearing lunch time on Monday, giving us less than one week until the big press conference.

    I nce at the time on my phone. ¡°Sorry, we went a little longer than I nned. If you can all have your items to me tomorrow by noon, that¡¯d be great.¡±

    There¡¯s a chorus of affirmations as we all start to stand.

    Noticing a shift in the energy in the room, I look up from the papers I¡¯m organizing. Everyone has stopped moving. All frozen in ce. Staring at me.

    I open my mouth to ask them what¡¯s wrong when a familiar voice speaks from the doorway. They aren¡¯t staring at me. They¡¯re staring at the person standing directly behind me.

    ¡°Sorry to interrupt. I just need a moment with Ms. rk.¡±

    Ms. rk? Thebination of his voice and his professional tone have desire and annoyance battling for dominance inside my body. I clench my fists and fight to maintain my cool. This jerk just walks into my meeting like he didn¡¯t insinuate that I was sleeping with his assistant, and my brother, thest time I saw him. The audacity of this bitch.

    With my back to the door, and Vincent, I give a tight smile and a nod to the team. Taking that as permission to leave, they all hustle out of the room. A few of the women give Vincent lingering looks, but fear of his reputation apparently outweighs the possibility of flirting with the Mr. Sin.

    ¡°Sasha.¡±

    His voice is close. Too close. But the weekend did nothing to cool my anger and I can¡¯t look at him yet.

    ¡°Yes.¡± My tone is clipped.

    ¡°Do you have a moment?¡±

    ¡°No. Sorry.¡± I don¡¯t sound sorry. I¡¯m also lying. I have an hour before my next meeting.

    Not wanting to give Vincent any time to sway me, I scoop up my things and spin around to leave. I turned away from his voice so I could slip around him, but he nned for my evasion. And moved.

    He¡¯s right there in front of me.

    Momentum keeps me from being able to stop. My free hand automaticallyes up to prevent me from crashing into him. His chest is hard and warm under my palm.

    That half second of contact has my pulse picking up and my blood heating. I jerk my hand back and step around him. He doesn¡¯t try to stop me, and I¡¯m d. Or I should be d. Talking to him is a bad idea. Touching him is an even worse idea. But I still crave him. He¡¯s like a drug that I just can¡¯t get out of my system.

    My office is only a few doors down, so I make it to safety quickly. I shut my door for the small sense of protection it brings, then drop down into the chair behind my desk.

    ¡°Get yourself together, Sasha.¡± I mumble to myself. A second before my door opens.

    I look up and watch Vincent as he steps into my office, closing the door behind him. I shouldn¡¯t be surprised by anything he does anymore. It seems that I still forget that he owns thispany, and he can do whatever he wants and go wherever he pleases. I¡¯m just thankful I didn¡¯t drop my forehead to my desk like I wanted to.

    I continue to watch him in silence as he lowers himself onto my single visitor¡¯s chair. It¡¯s almostughable to see him fold hisrge body into the small chair. It¡¯s not a terrible chair, but it¡¯s not built for someone his size. I internally smile as he shifts in difort.

    My eyebrows hit my hairline when Vincent sets a to-go cup of coffee on my desk and nudges it towards me.

    Did he seriously bring me a coffee? For what? An apology?

    Slowly, I reach out and pick it up. Hesitating when I see that it¡¯s from BeanBag. Either he noticed that the coffee I brought Brent was from there, or he asked Brent where to go. Because there¡¯s no way this is a coincidence.

    Removing the lid, I sniff the drink, eyes still on Vincent. His expression is serious, but his eyes hold a touch of humor. Lifting the cup to my lips, I give him a once over while I sample thette. He looks just as handsome as thest time I saw him. His constant shadow of a beard and dark hair are impably imperfect, as always. I¡¯m guessing he has a suit jacket in his office, but right now he¡¯s in a dark gray button up shirt and ck pants. Being near him always makes me d that I¡¯ve collected a nice wardrobe, like today¡¯s fitted plum dress. He¡¯s intimidating enough without adding feelings of clothing inadequacy.

    When the beverage hits my lips, my eyes widen.

    Vincent smirks.

    I lick the froth from my lip. I don¡¯t know how he knew, but he got my favorite afternoon pick-me-up.

    He stares at me a moment longer before speaking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    He¡¯s sorry. Great.

    I keep watching him.

    ¡°For what I said on Friday.¡± He rifies. As if I was unsure what his most recent asshole behavior was.

    I watch him for another moment, waiting for further exnation, but get none.

    Holding back my sigh, I give him a nod and my best professional tone. ¡°Noted. Thank you for the coffee.¡±

    Turning my attention away from him, I unlock myptop. Then wait. Vincent doesn¡¯t move. He doesn¡¯t do anything. Fine. Two can y at this game. I open my email and pretend to read a few messages. I have to pretend because I can¡¯t actually concentrate with the Devil sitting across my desk, staring at me.

    Needing to upy my hands, I open up a new email, addressed to myself, and start typing out all the insults I can think of. There are many.

    I¡¯m wondering how long we¡¯ll go on like this when Vincent finally lets out an audible exhale. I stop typing but I don¡¯t look his way.

    ¡°Look, I apologize. I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have jumped to those conclusions. Can we please put it behind us and move on?¡±

    I start typing again. This time I¡¯m using full sentences. My keystrokes are getting aggressive. This bag-of-dicks apology is more useless than a hairbrush dipped in tar and covered in stranger¡¯s pubes.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± Vincent has the nerve to sound exasperated.

    I finally snap. ¡°What, Vincent? What do you want from me? You are honestly the most frustrating man I¡¯ve ever met in my entire life! You think you can just snap your fingers and everything will be as you wish. Your apology sucked worse than your attitude. Sure, you said the word sorry, but that doesn¡¯t just wipe the te clean. I¡¯m here to work. I¡¯m here to make your life easier. But instead of helping me do my job, you have literally made it harder at every step. Holding back information. Being generally difficult. Implying that I¡¯m some sort of slut that sleeps with anyone willing. Well, you know what, my sex life is none of your damn business. I can fuck whoever I choose. But at least give me some credit. I might not be one of your usual runway models, but I don¡¯t need to go around spreading my legs for anyone who looks.¡±

    Instead of looking chastised, Vincent looks enraged. ¡°The fuck you will!¡± He booms. ¡°You don¡¯t get to choose anybody. I don¡¯t share. And fight it all you want, but this thing between us isn¡¯t over. I¡¯ll stay out of your way while you do your job. But if you think you can go out and fuck other guys, you¡¯re wrong. End of discussion. And if there¡¯s some walking-dead-man out there that needs to get that message, I¡¯ll tell him myself.¡±

    I¡¯m so stunned at his outburst; all I can do is shake my head.

    ¡°Good.¡± I¡¯m not sure if I just agreed to something, but he still sounds angry. ¡°And I don¡¯t want to ever hear you talk about yourself like that again. You¡¯re the sexiest woman in this building. I swear to fucking god, if I have to watch one more of my employees mentally undress you, I¡¯m going to start throwing people out the fucking windows. And I¡¯m quite sure that¡¯d make your job harder.¡± He pushes up to standing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being a prick before. But I¡¯m not sorry about being a prick right now. We needed to get on the same page.¡±

    He takes the two steps to the door before turning back to face me. ¡°Send the talking points directly to me. Not to Brent.¡± I open my mouth to reiterate that there¡¯s nothing between me and Brent, but Vincent holds his hand up to stop me. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Just do it.¡±

    I¡¯m pretty sure I hear him mutter something about making me insane before he disappears out my door and down the hall.

    I blink at my empty doorway for several moments. What in the hell just happened? We needed to get on the same page? What page was that exactly?

    I shake my head and turn my eyes to the ceiling. This man has more mood swings than a pharmacy. I should be mad at him for how he just yelled at me. But if I¡¯m going to be honest with myself, I¡¯m more than a little turned on right now. The whole caveman act shouldn¡¯t be attractive, but it is. And if we weren¡¯t in an upied office building, I¡¯d probably have thrown myself over the desk at him.

    Blinking out of my trance, I nce at the clock. I don¡¯t have time to try and figure this damn man out. Things are going to move fast this week. I can¡¯t let my hormones distract me any more than they already have.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 21

    ¡°Well, I think we¡¯re set.¡± Cheryl says as we look around the lobby.

    We went back and forth on where to hold the press conference. Vincent¡¯s office. The executive conference room. The event hall. Ultimately it was decided that the casual setting of the building¡¯s lobby was the best way to present Vincent. He¡¯s impressive and intimidating enough without putting him behind some high-powered desk. Most people have an underlying distrust forrge corporations, so we¡¯re staging this as more of a public gathering than a formal press conference.

    ¡°I think so, too.¡± I agree while checking my watch. ¡°And we have two hours before the media starts arriving.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. I have to hand it to you. I don¡¯t know how you got Mr. Mazzanti to cooperate so well, but you two make a good team.¡± Cheryl winks at me. ¡°Oh, speak of the Devil.¡±

    ¡°Devil indeed.¡± I murmur out loud, distracted by the fact that my boss just winked at me.

    Was that meant to be a joke? She can¡¯t possibly know about my private nickname for him. Does she know there¡¯s something going on between us? No. That¡¯s not possible. And if she did suspect something, she sure as hell wouldn¡¯t be winking about it.

    Cheryl pats my arm. ¡°I¡¯m going to go say hi then run to the office. But I¡¯ll be back before it starts.¡±

    As I watch Cheryl approach Vincent, I notice that he¡¯s not alone. At his side is the small, beautiful blonde with dark eyes. Annie. I know he doesn¡¯t want her here when the cameras show up, so I¡¯m surprised that he brought her in at all. With an arm over Annie¡¯s shoulders, Vincent shakes Cheryl¡¯s hand. I told Cheryl that he had a daughter so at least she won¡¯t be too caught off guard by the introduction.

    I feel like I¡¯m intruding by observing them. Nothing special is happening, Vincent¡¯s just standing with his daughter, and yet I feel the moment in every part of my body. My heart is thumping and it¡¯s like my damn ovaries just flipped on a neon sign saying open for business. I¡¯m not even sure that I want to have kids, but there¡¯s something about a single father dedicated to his child that sets off every maternal instinct I have.

    Chastising myself, I start to look away when another woman catches my eye. I recognize her from old news articles, but even without those I¡¯d know exactly who she is. Marie Mazzanti, Vincent¡¯s mother. She¡¯s small and slender, like her granddaughter, but her coloring matches Vincent.

    Seeing them all together makes me wonder about Annie¡¯s mother. With Annie¡¯s golden locks and pale skin, I imagine that she must look just like her mom. Except for having Vincent¡¯s eyes. I did as much digging as I¡¯m capable of but couldn¡¯t find any information on the absentee mother. Not even Annie¡¯s birth certificate. But since I don¡¯t know where she was born, or the mother¡¯sst name, that¡¯s not a surprise.

    The research wasn¡¯t for my own personal knowledge. I needed to see what the typical journalist would be able to find regarding Annie. Because as soon as she¡¯s announced everyone will be looking to dig up her story. And okay, yes, maybe I was a little curious for non-professional reasons.

    Theck of information makes her identity all the more intriguing, but endless amounts of money can buy you privacy. Among other things.

    ¡°Sasha rk?¡± A gravelly voice startles me out of my thoughts.

    I turn and nearly step back when I see the man standing next to me. I don¡¯t know how I didn¡¯t hear his approach. The man is massive. Like one of those huge guys in the NFL -type of massive. He¡¯s got to be six foot eight and wide as a doorway. His olive skin and dark hair, buzzed short, speak of Italian descent. The family resemnce with Vincent is there, only instead of piercing ck eyes, this man¡¯s eyes are a startling blue.

    I take his offered hand. ¡°You must be Angelo Rossi. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    His grin reaches his eyes, but still looks predatory. If I thought Vincent looked a little scary, he¡¯s got nothing on Mount Angelo.

    ¡°So, how¡¯s it been working with my cousin? He treatin¡¯ you well?¡± He asks, holding my gaze.

    The question seems innocent enough, but I¡¯m almost certain that he knows the whole sordid history between Vincent and me.

    I work to keep my smile in ce. ¡°It¡¯s been fine. I¡¯m looking forward to getting through today, so we can move our focus to the g.¡±

    Angelo nods. ¡°Ah yes, the charity thing. That¡¯s in a few weeks, right?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± I¡¯m usually great at small talk, but this man is making me feel like I¡¯m under interrogation. Appropriate since he¡¯s Head of Security.

    ¡°How¡¯s John doing?¡± Angelo asks with the slightest tilt of his head.

    I couldn¡¯t have heard him correctly. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Your brother. They keeping him busy down in the Windy City?¡±

    What the¡­ I take a step back and Angelo raises an eyebrow at my reaction.

    His voice has a tinge of amusement. ¡°You didn¡¯t really think that we wouldn¡¯t find out, did you?¡±

    My insides tighten. ¡°Find out? What the hell are you insinuating? I haven¡¯t kept my brother a secret. Just ask Vincent.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ve talked. Funny how you failed to mention that John works for the FBI. On the mob squad.¡± He crosses his giant arms over his giant chest. ¡°How did you see this working? Figured you could catch Vincent with his guard down and he¡¯d tell you all the family secrets? Sorry honey, but there aren¡¯t any secrets anymore.¡±

    Every word out of the behemoth¡¯s mouth pushes me further past shock and into anger.

    Taking a step closer I regain my ground and lower my voice. ¡°Listen up and listen good because I¡¯m only going to say this once. I was sought out for this job. Not just mypany, but me specifically. Because I¡¯m good at what I do. And I¡¯m here to do work. My work. Not some sort of undercover rat for my brother. My brother who is none of your damn business. Not now, not ever. If you so much as breathe his name to me again, I will make you regret every steroid shake your oversized Shrek ass ever drank.¡±

    On a roll, I point a finger in his direction. ¡°Also, I¡¯m here because Mazzanti Enterprises is clean. Clean, as in there¡¯s no reason for the FBI to be interested in your business. Now if you keep throwing out bullshit usations, I might have to reconsider that clean status and have a little chat with John. Maybe he can bring his friends up and they can go kick over the logs in your swamp, see what scurries out.¡± It¡¯s my turn to cross my arms. ¡°Did you hear all that way up there, or do you need me to write it down?¡±

    A warm palm slides down my back,ing to rest at the base of my spine.

    ¡°Yeah, did you hear that?¡± I can hear the smile in Vincent¡¯s voice. ¡°Because I for one would love to have her repeat it for dictation.¡±

    Angelo¡¯s eyes are still on me. ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna like you.¡±

    ¡°I told you.¡± Vincent says, causing Angelo to bark out augh.

    Vincent and I have emailed with each other all week but have kept it strictly business. I haven¡¯t seen him in person since he stormed out of my office on Monday after ranting about how I can¡¯t sleep with other guys. Part of me was still tempted to fight him. To fight this thing between us. But now, standing here, with his arm around me¡­ I can¡¯t fight it. This feels so normal. So right. So fitting.

    Forcing my mind to stay on track, I nt my eyes up to meet Vincent¡¯s. ¡°You ran my brother?¡±

    ¡°We ran you. We do background checks on all our employees. Honestly, it should have been done weeks ago.¡± He shrugs. ¡°When Shrek here found out that your brother¡¯s FBI, he thought you might be working to bring me down. I, on the other hand, knew that theory was total bullshit. I¡¯d say your verbal smackdown just now was the perfect end to our argument.¡±

    Vincent grins and slides his hand around to my side, giving me a small squeeze.

    My body instantly reacts to his touch. The urge to lean into him has me gritting my teeth. I step to the side, causing his hand to drop away from my body. Him and Angelo have started to talk about something else, so Vincent doesn¡¯t notice my behavior.

    Being as discreet as possible, I look around to make sure no one saw him touching me like that. Luckily, Cheryl is nowhere to be seen. She must have left already. I¡¯m about to exhale a relieved breath when my eyes connect with Annie¡¯s. She¡¯s across the room but staring right at me.

    Vincent taps my elbow to get my attention, then gestures to his phone. ¡°I gotta take this call. Can I trust you two not to kill each other?¡±

    I nce at Angelo and roll my eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Vincent nods before walking away.

    Angelo is still smiling. ¡°You just cost me twenty bucks.¡±

    ¡°Was the bet that I was dirty or that I¡¯d lose my cool over being questioned?¡±

    He chuckles. ¡°Second option. Vincent figured if I said anything about John, you¡¯d take it as a threat and flip out on me.¡±

    I open my mouth, but a young voice interrupts my reply. ¡°Uncle Angelo, Grandma wants to talk to you.¡±

    We both look down to find Annie standing next to us.

    ¡°Hey, princess.¡± Angelo goes to ruffle her hair, but she ducks away causing him tough. ¡°Let¡¯s go find Grandma then.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s over by the door.¡± When Angelo doesn¡¯t move, she huffs. ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a minute. I want to ask Sasha about the news vans real quick.¡±

    Angelo¡¯s brows furrow in confusion, matching my own. ¡°You know Sasha?¡±

    ¡°Not really, but me and Grandma were just talking to somedy that pointed her out.¡± She looks at me. ¡°She said you¡¯ve been inside the big news vans before.¡±

    I nod. ¡°I have. I¡¯m friends with a few of the local reporters. I¡¯m sure I could arrange for you to get a tour sometime. If your dad¡¯s okay with it.¡±

    ¡°Cool.¡± She says with a shrug. ¡°Uncle Angelo, go talk to Grandma. I¡¯ll just be a second.¡±

    He throws his hands up. ¡°Fine. Don¡¯t wander off.¡±

    Annie and I watch him walk away before turning back to face each other.

    Oh god, why is this so awkward.

    I clear my throat. ¡°So, do you have a school project about the news? Or are you just interested in it?¡±

    Her dark eyes inspect me before she rolls them. ¡°I don¡¯t care about the stupid news.¡±

    ¡°Oh, um¡­¡± I pause. Wait, what?

    Annie lowers her voice. ¡°Are you sleeping with my dad because of his money?¡±

    My jaw falls open. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ We aren¡¯t¡­¡±

    She crosses her little arms. ¡°I¡¯m not dumb. I know you like him. But my dad¡¯s not like that. You won¡¯t get his money. He¡¯s not dumb either.¡±

    ¡°Annie!¡± We both look up to see Angelo across the room with his arm up in a what gives gesture.

    Based on her line of questioning, my guess is that she lied about her grandma needing to talk to Angelo.

    ¡°My dad doesn¡¯t need you,¡¯ she whispers at me, before turning and skipping away.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 22

    I don¡¯t remember whose idea it was to have a happy hour on location after the press conference, but it¡¯s the best idea of the year.

    The show is over. Vincent¡¯s speech went smoothly. As expected, the reporters were eating out of his palm from the start. There wasn¡¯t a single question raised that we hadn¡¯t prepared for. And once the news of Marie¡¯s House was announced, all attention shifted to the new non-profit. A handsome-as-sin man spending millions on housing for homeless women and families? Say no more.

    Shutting my eyes, I lean against the wall and finish off my second ss of wine.

    The work part of today went perfectly. The rest of it, not so much. I¡¯m still rattled from being told off by an 11-year-old girl. Seriously, what the hell was I supposed to say? Lie and tell her I¡¯m not involved with her father? Admit that I like him but try to exin that I don¡¯t want his money? She wouldn¡¯t believe me. And she wasn¡¯t really waiting for me to answer, she just wanted to get it off her chest.

    And what about Vincent? As I continue to rey the scene in my mind, I go back and forth on whether or not to tell him. I¡¯m currently on no. No, I won¡¯t tell him. She¡¯s just a kid who¡¯s worried about her dad. I was hoping she was too young to pick up on the overwhelming sexual vibes between Vincent and myself on the day she burst into his office, but of course I couldn¡¯t be so lucky. And I¡¯m sure seeing Vincent¡¯s arm around me earlier tonight didn¡¯t help either.

    I had a single parent growing up. My mom had a few serious boyfriends and I remember how stressed I¡¯d get every time she brought someone new home. What if I didn¡¯t like him? What if he didn¡¯t like me? What if my mom started to love him more than me? What if I got left behind?

    I pinch my eyes shut even tighter and take a deep breath. Sometimes I can think about my mom without getting sad. Sometimes I can¡¯t.

    ¡°Sasha.¡±

    My eyes open at Vincent¡¯s soft tone. His face is so close and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch him.

    ¡°You did a nice job up there today,¡± I say with a smile that feels forced.

    ¡°Come on.¡± He nods towards the elevators and starts to walk.

    Too tired to argue, I push off the wall and find a table to set my empty wine ss on. I catch up to him right as the elevator doors open. It¡¯s not until the elevator starts to move that I realize we¡¯re headed down, rather than up.

    ¡°Uh, Vincent? Where are we going?¡±

    ¡°Home.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re giving me a ride home?¡±

    The doors open to the private parking level. ¡°You¡¯reing home with me.¡±

    He steps out and I¡¯m once again left chasing him. Am I drunker than I thought? I¡¯m positive that we didn¡¯t talk about this earlier. I wouldn¡¯t have forgotten.

    Vincent stops next to an expensive looking ck sports car. ¡°My mom has Annie for the night. I¡¯d like you toe over.¡±

    ¡°Vincent¡­¡±

    He opens the passenger door. ¡°You looked sad standing there. Come home with me and I promise to make you feel better.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± I whisper.

    Later, I can me the wine for my easy eptance.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes sh with victory. ¡°Good girl. Now get your ass in the car.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 23

    The ride to Vincent¡¯s ce is silent. No conversation. No music. Just sexual tension.

    Sitting quietly, I watch the buildings go by. I know that going to Vincent¡¯s is a mistake. I¡¯m already too entangled in his life. He¡¯s my client. He¡¯s a single dad to a kid that already hates me. Hees from a background that¡¯spletely at odds with my brother¡¯s career. He¡¯s not looking for a rtionship, but he still wants to y alpha male and boss me around as if I were his. His signals are nothing but mixed. And, worse yet ¨C even with his abundant asshole tendencies ¨C I care about him. And with a man that doesn¡¯t want attachments, those feelings can only end one way. In unreciprocated heartache.

    But¡­ But the sex is really good. Like really, really, stupid good. Like I crave him every night. When I¡¯m falling asleep, every time my mind wanders, I think about having him between my thighs. I think about his breath on my neck. I think about his body against mine. And like an addict, I convince myself that maybe tonight will help to curb my need. One more fix and I¡¯ll be able to get him out of my system.

    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± Vincent¡¯s words fill the space between us.

    He¡¯s pulled into an underground parking lot. I¡¯m d it¡¯s dark down here, so he can¡¯t see me blushing. I didn¡¯t notice we parked because I was too busy thinking about sex.

    Following his lead, I exit the car. Vincent holds his hand out for me to take. Sliding my palm against his, I realize this is another thing that just feels so normal with Vincent. Holding hands. He¡¯s a man who can snap and get his way, who fucks like it¡¯s his job, who has the world at his feet. But when he holds my hand, it feels like something we¡¯ve been doing for years.

    The silence continues as we take the elevator to the lobby. I should have expected the high security building. He¡¯d mentioned that personal security was his reason for living downtown and not in the country.

    Hand still in his, Vincent walks me across the shining marble floors. When he tips his head at the security guard I almost don¡¯t look. But when I do, I do a double take. There¡¯s a typical front desk with a professional looking guard sitting behind it. But it¡¯s the second, monstrous man that catches me off guard.

    Angelo is leaning against the desk, watching as we approach the elevators. Vincent doesn¡¯t say anything, and neither does Angelo. But he does give me a wink as the elevator doors slide shut. Oh good, another witness to our indiscretions.

    ¡°Does he live here, too?¡± I ask Vincent.

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s easier to have him close. He¡¯s the Head of Security for Mazzanti Enterprises, but he¡¯s also lead for my personal security team.¡± Vincent shrugs. ¡°He¡¯s been pretending to be my bodyguard since we were eight years old. Made sense to make it official.¡±

    ¡°Since you were eight?¡± I hum. ¡°So, what, he was only six foot two back then, about 300 pounds?¡±

    Vincent startles me with his loudugh. It echoes in the small elevator cab, filling my body with its vibrations.

    When the doors slide open, Vincent lets go of my hand and drapes his arm over my shoulders. There are very few doors and I wish I¡¯d paid attention to the floor numbers. I¡¯d bet good money that we¡¯re on the penthouse level.

    Stepping through the doorway, I pause. I hadn¡¯t really thought about what his home would look like, but I wouldn¡¯t have pictured it like this.

    We¡¯re in a short entryway with a padded bench on the left. It has cubbies below and there¡¯s a rainbow raincoat on the hooks above. There are shoes scattered around the floor, and ¨C toeing off my ballet ts ¨C I leave them beside a small pair of pink sneakers.

    ¡°Would you like a drink?¡± Vincent asks as he walks past me into the main room.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m okay.¡± I mumble, following behind and taking in the space.

    Straight ahead is a wall of windows looking out over the Mississippi River. With the city lights on and the final touches of a sunset casting a deep red glow across the water, the view is stunning.

    Pulling my eyes away from the ss, I wander through the living space. Large cloth covered couches and overstuffed chairs upholstered in a variety of fabrics fill the room. There¡¯s a TV mounted to the wall above arge firece. Side tables are covered in books. And a pair of purple rollerdes sits in the corner of the room.

    This is a family home. It¡¯sfortable. Inviting. Huge and high-end, but cozy. It¡¯s down-to-earth in a way I didn¡¯t think Vincent was capable of.

    The sound of bottles clinking has me looking over my shoulder to see Vincent in the kitchen. It¡¯s an open floor n so the only thing separating the living room from the kitchen is the huge quartz-topped ind. There are six swivel stools, and even though there¡¯s arge dining table on the other side of the room, I imagine Vincent and Annie probably eat most of their meals right there in the kitchen.

    ¡°Change your mind?¡± Vincent asks.

    He¡¯s selecting a bottle from the cab above the refrigerator. Another sign that there¡¯s a kid who lives here. No wine fridge or bar cart. All the alcohol is up high and out of reach.

    He pulls down a bottle of brown liquid and I shake my head before bringing my attention back to the space. The walls that aren¡¯t dominated with windows are full of framed artwork. I step closer to the wall nearest me and see that the mediums are all different. There¡¯s a watercolor. A charcoal drawing. What looks like a field of wildflowers done in fingerpaint. A small gasp escapes my lips when I realize that these were all done by Annie.

    My throat constricts and I have to blink against the emotions that flood through me. Vincent has more money than I even want to think about. His house could be filled with paintings from all the greatest artists. He couldmission whomever he wanted. But instead, he chose to professionally frame and disy pieces made by his daughter. It says a lot about him as a man, as a father, and it confuses me even more.

    Staring at the painting in front of me, I try to reconcile the two sides of Vincent. One side is the Vincent that I know well. The Titan of business. Mr. Sin. The sexual being who knows how to set me on fire. Who pushes all my buttons, for better or worse. He¡¯s demanding and unforgiving and sometimes harsh.

    Then there¡¯s the other Vincent. The father. The man who protects his child fiercely and without apology. The man who hugs his daughter in public and has a secret handshake with her. The man who frames crayon drawings. The man who seemingly raised his daughter on his own.

    When I met him in that bar, I pictured him living a high-powered, high-speed life in a sleek bachelor pad. But each interaction with him peels back anotheryer of his personality, of his life. I¡¯m beginning to think that I¡¯ve had the wrong impression of him this whole time.

    I sense him behind me, before his body presses against mine. Vincent wraps one arm around my upper chest, gently pulling me until my back rests against his front. I can hear the rattle of the ice in his ss as he takes a sip.

    Settling into him, I try to ignore the fact that the position feels more intimate than it should.

    We stand there for a moment, looking at the artwork.

    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Vincent asks.

    I rest my head back against his shoulder and exhale. ¡°That I don¡¯t really know you at all.¡±

    I can feel the vibration in Vincent¡¯s chest as he hums his disagreement. ¡°That¡¯s not true. You know me better than you think.¡±

    ¡°I doubt that.¡±

    He¡¯s quiet for a moment. ¡°You¡¯ve seen my home. That¡¯s more than most can say.¡± He pauses. ¡°There are a lot of people out there that wish me and my family harm. Even if I had time for friendships, I wouldn¡¯t bring them here. I don¡¯t want people around Annie.¡±

    I want to ask him why I¡¯m here. Why he¡¯d let me in? Does it make me special? Or is it just because Annie won¡¯t be home tonight? Because this was the easiest way to get me into bed? But I don¡¯t know how to ask any of that without sounding like some insecure woman desperate for him to love me.

    ¡°Tell me about your ce.¡± Vincent¡¯s question surprises me.

    ¡°My apartment?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve shown you mine,¡¯ he says with a smirk in his voice.

    ¡°There¡¯s not much to tell. I¡¯m sure Angelo already told you everything about where I live. He probably told you a lot more about my life than I would normally tell a stranger.¡±

    Vincent presses his nose into my hair. ¡°I¡¯m not a stranger.¡±

    His voice is husky, sending a tingle down my spine.

    I swallow. ¡°I suppose not.¡± I think about my apartment and what he would see when he first walked in the door. ¡°I have a cat. His name is Captain. He¡¯s 8 years old. He¡¯s gray and humongous and I love him to death.¡±

    Vincent lowers his head, burying his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. ¡°Captain. That¡¯s an interesting name.¡±

    Letting my eyes fall shut, I focus on producing words. ¡°As soon as I saw him, I knew I¡¯d let him run the ship. I¡¯m not usually such a pushover, but with him I can¡¯t help it.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s cute.¡±

    ¡°Cute?¡± I almostugh. That¡¯s not a word I thought I¡¯d ever hear out of his mouth.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Vincent¡¯s lips seal onto my neck.

    I melt into the warmth of him. If Vincent stepped away, I would fall down.

    ¡°Ready to tour the rest of my ce?¡±

    I nod and gather my strength to hold up my own weight.

    Vincent grabs my hand and leads me to a hall on the far side of the kitchen. I know where we¡¯re going. There¡¯s no tour involved.

    I nce into the rooms as we pass them. A bathroom. Annie¡¯s room. An office.

    At the end of the hall, we step through a set of double doors into therge master bedroom. With the soft grey walls, Scandinavian style furniture, and navy cotton bedding, this is much more along the lines of what I pictured for Vincent. Only I would have pegged him for ck everything, with silk sheets.

    Stopping at the foot of the bed, I suddenly feel nervous. Like I¡¯m out of my element. We aren¡¯t on an even ying field here. Being here shouldn¡¯t make me feel any more off-bnce than I do at the office, but it does.

    I take the ss from Vincent¡¯s hand. Keeping eye contact, I tip the drink back and swallow what was left. He smirks, probably knowing how much that burned going down. But it was exactly what I needed to make me feel just a little bolder.

    Handing the ss back, I reach up and drag my fingers down his chest. I don¡¯t stop as I travel lower. I let my palm drag over the front of his pants, applying pressure against his growing erection. Vincent groans, leaning into the touch. But I pull away, trailing my hands back up. I use the movement to tug his shirt free from his pants.

    I take my time undoing his buttons, slowly revealing more and more of his dream-worthy body. This feels like the first time that we don¡¯t have a deadline looming over us. We don¡¯t need to hurry. There¡¯s no chance of getting caught. We aren¡¯t in a distant city getting our first taste of each other. No, tonight we can enjoy ourselves for as long as we want.

    With all the buttons open, I step closer to reach up and push the shirt off hisrge shoulders. His chest inches away, I lean in and lick over one of his nipples. I feel his growl on my tongue and do it again. While his hands are busy pulling the sleeves off his arms, I move my hands to his belt. I let his belt drag his pants down his long muscr legs. But I leave his boxer briefs on. I¡¯m feeling brave, but not that brave. Not yet.

    Kicking his pants off, Vincent takes a step back. He brings up the empty ss and lets one of the ice cubes fall into his mouth. Setting the ss down, he twirls his finger. I turn, giving him my back, and the zipper on my dress.

    Hisrge hands pull my hair over one shoulder, revealing the other. I feel the zipper start to slowly lower, just before his lips meet that spot right behind my ear. His freezing cold lips create a shiver that rolls through my entire body. I feel the ice cube as it brushes over my skin before he pulls away.

    Clearly losing patience with going slow, Vincent tugs the zipper all the way down and pushes the dress off my body. Using his hands on my shoulders, Vincent turns me back to face him. He¡¯s in nothing but tented ck briefs while I stand before him incy pink boy shorts and a matching bra. I¡¯m past being self-conscious in front of him. The look in his eyes is nothing but lust.

    He walks me back a step, then pushes me so I¡¯m sitting on the edge of the bed. Vincent doesn¡¯t speak, but a small smile pulls at the edges of his mouth. His warm hands travel down over my vicles, pausing to tease my breasts, then down my sides, over my hips, stopping on my thighs. Keeping his eyes on mine, Vincent pulls my legs apart as he slowly lowers to his knees in front of me.

    My breath catches as I realize what he¡¯s about to do. And his smile grows.

    Then his mouth is closing over my panties. The cold, along with the sensation of pressure, has my hips trying to lift off the bed. But he holds me down.

    I watch from above as he ces open-mouthed kisses against my core. I fight between tipping my head back in ecstasy and keeping my eyes on Vincent as he literally makes out with my pussy. Thece between us somehow adding to the feeling rather than taking away.

    His tongue presses against my clit. The friction building. His lips sucking against me.

    His hands don¡¯t stay idle. They reach up and pull my bra cups down, releasing my breasts. They pinch my nipples. They stroke my sides. But it¡¯s when they reach around and grip my ass, pulling me harder against his face that I lose it.

    Crying out, I grip his hair, holding his face in myp as my head falls back.

    Vincent hums through my orgasm, sending vibrations up my spine, stretching out my pleasure. When my body finally settles, and he pulls away, the look on Vincent¡¯s face is one I¡¯ve never seen before. And my heart clutches. He looks¡­ happy.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 24

    ¡°What the fuck do you mean she¡¯s not here!¡± My voice booms down the hallway.

    The teacher in front of me is pale and shaking. I¡¯m scaring her, just like I¡¯m scaring the kids that hurry past, but I don¡¯t care.

    ¡°Sir.¡± The principal¡¯s voice sounds behind me and I spin around.

    ¡°Where is she?!¡±

    ¡°Her uncle picked her up,¡¯ the principal says, causing my world to halt.

    My blood runs cold as my tone goes sharp. ¡°What the fuck did you do? Me, Angelo, and my mother are the only people allowed to pick her up.¡±

    Angelo is next to me and he¡¯s already on his phone.

    The principal tries to control her features. ¡°I know that, sir. But he said he was approved and asked me to look. When I double checked in the system, his name was there.¡±

    I don¡¯t need to ask for the name. ¡°How long ago?¡±

    ¡°Minutes.¡± She says, holding up her hands in defeat. ¡°It¡¯s only been minutes.¡±

    Hearing enough, I sprint out the front door of the preschool.

    ¡°Annie!¡± I shout her name.

    There¡¯s no reply, only a sea of faces that turn in my direction.

    Darting between bodies, I call her name. Shouting it, over and over. A few parents start to approach me, but I ignore them. I don¡¯t have time to exin.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go this way.¡± Angelo barks as he runs off to the right.

    Turning left, I push myself to move faster as I tear down the side street.

    ¡°Annie!¡± My voice cracks on her name.

    That fucking asshole has my baby and the fear wing at my throat is nearly crippling. But I can¡¯t think about it. If I think about it, I¡¯ll copse. If I copse, he gets away and I¡¯ll never see her again.

    ¡°Annie!¡± I yell even louder.

    A squeak of a sound, barely audible, has me skidding to a stop. My head turns towards therge parking lot across the street. Nearly every spot is filled. I don¡¯t see any people. I don¡¯t see¡­

    There. Movement.

    Rage swiftly fills every pore in my body. Without looking for traffic, I race across the street as fast as I can.

    My feet pound across the cracked cktop of the parking lot.

    I¡¯m closing in on them.

    Seeing his disgusting thin fingers wrapped around her wrist has her nameing out of me in a roar. ¡°Annie!¡±

    At my shout, they both look back. Randal¡¯s face shows manic anger mixed with shock. I¡¯m only 50 feet away now. I¡¯ll be on him in seconds. And I¡¯ll fucking kill him. And he knows it.

    I sense it a moment before he acts.

    He¡¯s a piece of shit, but he¡¯s not dumb. He knows the only thing that will stop me from ripping him apart is saving Annie. With no way to stop him, I watch in horror as he lifts her 4-year-old body and tosses her.

    ¡°No!¡±

    ckness fills the edge of my vision until all I can see is Annie. I push myself faster. The sound of my girl¡¯s scream nearly stops my heart, only to be cut off when she hits the trunk of a car with a thump.

    Time slows when her body starts sliding down, off the car, toward the pavement.

    ¡°Annie!¡± I call out onest time before pushing off the ground, diving towards her.

    Catching her in my arms, I pull her into my body and twist, taking the impact on my back.

    Sobs wrack her body, but the movement tells me that she¡¯s alive.

    ¡°Annie. Princess. You¡¯re okay. You¡¯re okay.¡±

    My words are hardly audible. I¡¯m crying nearly as hard as she is. Too close. That was too close.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 25

    I¡¯m not sure how long I¡¯ve been lying here, with my head on Vincent¡¯s shoulder, arm across his stomach, staring at his chin. I didn¡¯t mean to sleep over. I don¡¯t think either us intended to nod off, but after the second round of sex it just sort of happened. That¡¯s what has me wide awake. Memories fromst night. After going down on me like a goddamn pro, Vincent took his time removing the rest of my clothing. Kissing every inch of my skin as he did. Worshipping my body. Making love to me. And that¡¯s the kicker. It didn¡¯t feel like fucking. Didn¡¯t feel like a casual thing. It felt like rtionship sex. The sort of sex you have with someone you have feelings for. Not the sex you have when sex is all you have to give.

    I wonder if he felt it too. And what he thinks about it. What he ns to do about it. I know I agreed to casual, saying that I¡¯d never date an asshole like him. But I may have lied.

    I let out a quiet groan at my own stupidity. I shouldn¡¯t be here. Not just this morning, I shouldn¡¯t havee herest night. This man has given me nothing but confusion since our Minnesotan reunion. Since he kissed me with passion in the elevator before dismissing me freshly fucked in his office. I should probably hate him. Or at the very least I shouldn¡¯t like him. But unfortunately for me, my heart and my vagina don¡¯t seem to be listening to my head.

    The arm that¡¯s around my back starts to twitch. I almost smile but then his arm jerks and a low moan slips from his lips. It¡¯s not a sexy moan, it¡¯s a pained moan. He¡¯s dreaming and it¡¯s not good.

    Just as I open my mouth to say his name, I hear the telltale sound of a door closing somewhere in the apartment. Followed by voices.

    Shit.

    ¡°Vincent. Vincent, wake up.¡± I sit up and shake his shoulder.

    Aware that I¡¯m stark naked, I do my best to hold the nket around me.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I hiss his name louder.

    One moment he¡¯s sleeping and dreaming. The next he¡¯s sitting bolt upright, eyes wide open. He looks wild. And haunted.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I whisper.

    His guarded gaze shoots to me, and suddenly I feel very exposed.

    I gently ce my hand on his arm. ¡°I think someone is here.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± His voice is all gravel.

    Before I can respond we both hear the voices. They¡¯re far away, probably in the kitchen, but I can tell they¡¯re female.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Vincent jumps out of bed and starts pulling on a pair of sweatpants. ¡°Goddamnit.¡±

    There¡¯s no mistaking the anger in his voice and I¡¯m abruptly feeling very unwee. Unsure what to do, I start to slide out of bed to find my clothes.

    ¡°No! You stay here until I get Annie to her room.¡± Vincent snaps at me, halting my rise from the bed. ¡°I never let her see the women I¡¯m fucking.¡±

    He yanks a t-shirt over his head, cursing under his breath before he storms out of the room, mming the door shut behind him.

    I¡¯m so shaken. The distraught expression on his face when he first woke up had startled me. But it¡¯s his words that have me trembling. I¡¯d like to pretend my shaking is due to anger. Anger at Vincent for being a piece of shit asshole. But honestly, it¡¯s from hurt.

    Here I was,ying naked in his bed, wondering if he felt the same connection that I hadst night. Such a foolish thought since it¡¯s now crystal clear that he didn¡¯t share my feelings. In actuality, he couldn¡¯t have felt more differently than I did. Vincent looked literally disgusted at the idea of his family finding me here.

    I brush a traitorous tear away. Then another. God damn him! He never asked me to leave. He didn¡¯t tell me anything! He fell asleep, just like I did.

    He¡¯s the one who dragged me to his carst night, telling me that I looked sad. The dickhead told me he¡¯d make me feel better. He acted like he actually fucking cared. And like a total idiot, I believed him.

    I bite down on the sound that¡¯s trying to work its way up my throat.

    The women I¡¯m fucking. I¡¯d scoff if I weren¡¯t so upset. Earlier this week he lost his mind at the mere idea of me sleeping with other guys. He threatened to confront the alleged men himself to stake his im. Then he callously throws the women he¡¯s fucking in my face. Implying that he¡¯s still sleeping with whoever he wants. Brushing off what we didst night as just fucking.

    Taking a deep breath, I will my eyes to dry. At this point I don¡¯t even know if I should believe his bullshit about never bringing women to his apartment. Vincent probably doesn¡¯t even know his own truth half the time.

    Looking over at the bedside clock I see that it¡¯s barely 6:30 in the morning. I can¡¯t imagine this is the normal time that his mom brings Annie home. Maybe they had ns he forgot about. Or maybe something happened. I push that thought away, refusing to feel even a scrap of worry on Vincent¡¯s behalf.

    Wedging myself into my bra, I search for my underwear but can¡¯t find them. Fuck it. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re ruined anyways. I carry my dress into the bathroom and five minutester, knowing full well that I look like I¡¯ve been crying, I crack open the bedroom door.

    My purse and shoes are up front for all to see, so I¡¯m not sure what exactly he hopes to aplish with this sneaking around crap. Plus, how am I supposed to know when the coast is clear. Am I supposed to sit here until I hear a special bird call?

    Not hearing voices, I stick my head out the door. Thinking back to which room was Annie¡¯s I crane my neck until I can see her door. It¡¯s shut. It was open when we walked pastst night so that must mean he has her in there. Schooling my features as best as possible, I hurry down the hall. Careful to tread softly.

    Stepping into the great room, I beeline for my purse. I want to be long gone before Annie¡¯s door opens again.

    ¡°Oh! Good morning.¡±

    The feminine voice has me stopping in my tracks. I close my eyes and take a breath to steady my already frazzled nerves before opening them and turning slowly. Ten feet away, I find Vincent¡¯s mother, the infamous Marie Mazzanti, standing in the kitchen.

    ¡°Good morning.¡± I whisper, ncing back down the hall.

    Vincent will for sure blow a gasket if he finds me talking to his mom.

    ¡°Would you like a cup of coffee, dear? I was just about to make a pot.¡± Marie asks with a smile.

    I take a second to wonder how such a seemingly nice woman raised such a devil of a man, before shaking my head. ¡°No, I shouldn¡¯t.¡± When her eyes narrow at my response, I tack on a quick, ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Come now, I¡¯m sure Vincent wouldn¡¯t mind if you stayed for some breakfast.¡±

    What¡¯s meant toe out as a scoff, ends up sounding more like a choked cry. I pinch my lips shut, mortified by the sound, but the look on her face tells me she heard my emotions loud and clear.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I whisper, not sure what I¡¯m apologizing for.

    Not waiting for a reply, I grab my purse and nearly run to the door. Slipping my shoes on, I let myself out. Not wanting to draw attention to my escape, I quietly close the door behind me as I leave the apartment.

    He would have no reason to, but just knowing that Vincent has the ability to pull up security footage, has me making it all the way through the lobby, and out onto the street, before I let my emotions get the better of me.

    At this point, I don¡¯t know who I¡¯m more upset with. Vincent for being a jerk, or me for being a fool. Add on the embarrassment of seeing his mother during my literal walk of shame leaves me wanting to scream.

    Needing the fresh air, I decide to walk a few blocks before catching a Lyft back to my ce.

    Nearing the first crosswalk, I get that prickle of awareness on the back of my neck. It¡¯s what my brother would call his sixth sense. The one that tells you when you¡¯re being watched. Taking a quick pause, I look back over my shoulder. It¡¯s early on a Saturday morning, so there aren¡¯t many people out. But the few I see don¡¯t look familiar. I don¡¯t know why I was expecting to see Angelo or one of his goons, but they aren¡¯t there. Not a single person is looking my way.

    ¡°Get it together, Sasha.¡± I mumble to myself, before I continue my panty-less walk home.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 26

    I swear, somedays she¡¯s 11 going on 25. But then there are times like this, when she doesn¡¯t feel well and all she wants is me tucking her into bed, and she feels like a little girl again. It¡¯s always an emotional whish, but I feel more off kilter today than I usually do during these moments.

    With a final look at Annie¡¯s sleeping form, I turn off themp and slip out of her room.

    Standing in the hallway, I nce at my bedroom door. I know Sasha¡¯s gone. I heard her when she walked past Annie¡¯s door. Which was only possible because while Annie was in her en-suite bathroom I was standing with my ear pressed to the door like the jackass that I am.

    I heave out a breath. This morning could not have gone worse. First, I had that fucking dream. It¡¯s another memory that I¡¯m well-acquainted with, but no matter how many times I relive the nightmare, I still wake up rattled. Along with scaring the shit out of me, the dream always reminds that Annie¡¯s the most important thing in my life. And how ¨C with one mistake, one unlocked door ¨C she could be taken from me.

    So, when Sasha shook me awake, I was already in a dark mood. Then my mind had to catch up to the fact that I was waking up with Sasha in my bed. I wasn¡¯t lying when I told her I didn¡¯t bring women here. I¡¯ve never had sex in that bed beforest night. Not that what we did was as simple as sex. It was more. Which only added to my fucked-up state of mind.

    And, to top it all off, I wake up ¨C post-kidnap dream ¨C with a woman in my bed, only to hear my mom and daughter inside the apartment. It was too much. I lost it. I lost the tether on my sanity. And I took out my anger and fear and worry on the only person around.

    My chest aches. I never should have said those things to her. It wasn¡¯t a lie, but the way I said it was all wrong. It was hurtful and mean and uncalled for. Rubbing my hands over my face I curse under my breath. She¡¯ll really hate me this time.

    Rounding the corner into the kitchen I see that my mom¡¯s ready with her trademark scowl. It¡¯s the one that says you¡¯re an idiot.

    ¡°Did you make extra coffee?¡± I ask, hoping we can skip right past what I¡¯m sure ising next.

    ¡°There¡¯s plenty of coffee,¡¯ she replies. Tone t. ¡°I offered some to that beautiful young woman, but she seemed to think that you would disapprove of her staying for breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Look mom, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to have her stay over. It won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    Her eyes narrow even more. ¡°It should.¡±

    My steps slow. ¡°What?¡±

    At my confusion, her face softens. ¡°Vincent, honey¡­ you need to let someone in. I worry about you. I know you think you¡¯re doing Annie some sort of favor by staying single, but you need to have a life too. Annie needs to see you having a normal rtionship.¡±

    I sigh. We¡¯ve had this discussion before. ¡°Mom¡­¡±

    She cuts me off. ¡°Sasha seems like a nice girl. She¡¯s smart and kind, and if she can put up with your shit on a daily basis then you should keep seeing her.¡±

    ¡°Just how much did you two say to each other?¡±

    ¡°I recognized her from yesterday. I spoke with her boss at length, who only had good things to say about her.¡± Mom exins before getting a sad look over her face. ¡°Yesterday she looked like a confident businesswoman, but ¨C this morning ¨C the poor thing hardly raised her voice above a whisper. It was like she was terrified of getting caught. Not by me, but by you. I don¡¯t know what you said to her before you came storming out here, but you hurt that girl. She was trying to hide it, but it was in as day that she¡¯d been crying. If you care about her, even a little, you need to apologize.¡±

    I feel the chain around my heart tighten. Mad I can handle, but if I made her cry¡­

    I drop my chin, gaze on the ground. ¡°I¡¯ve already fucked up so many times with her. I should probably just leave her alone.¡±

    Mom puts her hand on my forearm. ¡°If you care about her, apologize. Then learn from your mistakes. If she cares about you in return, she¡¯ll forgive you.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 27

    ¡°Hello.¡± I say over a mouthful of food.

    ¡°ssy, sis.¡± John chuckles into the phone. ¡°Did I catch you eating dinner?¡±

    I nce down at the bowl of popcorn in myp, and then over to the clock showing me it¡¯s just after 8:30 pm.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I shrug to myself, let¡¯s call this dinner.

    ¡°So, how¡¯d the press conference with your boy toy go?¡±

    Just like that,  the buttery snack turns sour in my mouth. I¡¯ve been spending the day doing every household chore I could think of, in an attempt to forget Vincent and the way he treated me this morning. My apartment is spotless, but my feelings are still a little too ragged.

    ¡°It was fine.¡± I try to muster a casual tone.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Nothing happened. It was fine. It was great.¡± Even I don¡¯t believe my words in their obviousck of enthusiasm.

    John doesn¡¯t let up. ¡°What did that prick do? You¡¯re not still seeing him, are you?¡±

    ¡°John, I really don¡¯t want to talk about this right now.¡±

    ¡°So he did do something.¡± He huffs. ¡°What is it about men like him that make smart women so stupid.¡±

    I clench my teeth. ¡°John, I don¡¯t¡­¡± A knock at the door stops me from saying something that would probably be meaner than he deserves. ¡°I gotta go.¡±

    Having heard the knock, he goes straight into detective mode. ¡°Are you expecting someone?¡±

    ¡°Bye, Special Agent.¡± I hang up without answering his question.

    Captain watches me from his perch in the window as I walk across my living room to the front door.

    I¡¯m not expecting anyone, and no one buzzed up so I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s just one of my neighbors asking for a favor. I nce down at my wardrobe. I¡¯m wearing myfiest ck yoga pants and one of my brother¡¯s old FBI hoodies. I figure I¡¯m dressed enough. The sweatshirt is baggy, so I don¡¯t think you can tell that I don¡¯t have a bra on. My hair is pulled up in a messy bun and my bare feet andck of makeupplete my exciting Saturday Night Look. Whatever. If my neighbors expect better than this, that¡¯s on them, not me.

    I flip the locks and turn the handle. I get the door open about a foot before my eyes focus on the face in front of my door. Vincent¡¯s face. Vincent. Standing in the hallway outside my apartment door.

    I m the door shut.

    What the fuck. What the fuck! Why is he here? How did he even get into the building?

    He knocks again. ¡°Sasha, please open the door.¡±

    Hearing his voice brings back all of my anger and humiliation from this morning.

    I match his calm tone. ¡°Vincent, please go fuck yourself.¡±

    A quiet squeak of sound catches my attention. It wasn¡¯t male. And it wasn¡¯t adult.

    Against my better judgement, I jerk the door all the way open and see that Vincent isn¡¯t alone.

    ¡°Annie?¡± Her namees out as a question before I turn my attention back to the Devil. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    I know he wouldn¡¯t bring her to me unless he had to.

    ¡°Can wee in?¡± He asks, dragging a hand through his hair.

    I hesitate for only a second before I step back and usher them inside. I¡¯d dly leave his ass in the hallway all night, but I won¡¯t punish the daughter for her father¡¯s crimes.

    As the shock of seeing Vincent here starts to settle, I really take him in. His dark hair is mussed. Even through his jeans and ck t-shirt I can tell that his muscles look taut. And he looks a shade paler than healthy. And despite being a huge asshole, he looks hot as hell even while looking like shit.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Vincent¡¯s voice is nearly timid. Nearly. ¡°I need your help.¡±

    I nce down at Annie, but she¡¯s looking at the floor. Arms crossed. Using the toe of her pink sneaker to kick at the corner of my rug.

    Vincent ces a hand on his daughter¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Annie, will you wait in the kitchen while I talk to Sasha?¡±

    Annie res up at her dad before rolling her eyes. I want to roll my eyes right along with her. This isn¡¯t Vincent¡¯s several thousand square foot penthouse. This is a nice-but-average two-bedroom apartment. We¡¯re standing by the door, but we¡¯re also standing in the kitchen. And the living room. And the dining room. If you can count the table pushed against the far wall covered in a half-finished puzzle a dining room.

    Annie shuffles a dozen feet over to the kitchen where she leans against the ind.

    Vincent watches her while biting his lip. I¡¯ve never seen him look so unsure of himself. Part of me wants to bask in this. Watch him suffer. But another part wants to reach out andfort him. I want to p that part of me.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I speak to him in a near whisper. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    He sighs and steps closer to me, angling his back to Annie, giving us a small amount of privacy. He¡¯s inches away and I have to tilt my head back to see his face. Sometimes I forget just how tall he is.

    He sighs again. ¡°Annie just got her period. For the first time.¡±

    The distressed look on his face suddenly makes so much sense. Only a man would treat a period like it¡¯s a national disaster. I have to bite down on my lip to keep fromughing. If Annie weren¡¯t in the room with us, I probably wouldn¡¯t have resisted the urge.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I wait until he makes eye contact with me. ¡°That¡¯s natural at her age. It¡¯s a normal thing to happen. Why did you bring her here?¡±

    ¡°I just¡­ My mom is gone. She left this afternoon for a long weekend with her sister in Florida. She¡¯de home if I asked her, but Annie won¡¯t let me call, iming it will ruin Grandma¡¯s trip.¡±

    He holds my gaze and all I can do is raise my eyebrows.

    Vincent reaches out and lightly grips my upper arm. I can¡¯t help the way I tense at his touch, and he doesn¡¯t miss it, immediately dropping his hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I was an asshole. I know I shouldn¡¯t be here bothering you, but I need your help. You can go back to hating me after this if you want. But you¡¯re the only woman I know who can help. Annie has a few good friends, but I don¡¯t know any of their mothers well. You¡¯re the only one that I trust.¡±

    I cross my arms and close my eyes. One breath. Two. A third.

    I¡¯m so mad at him. He made me feel like trash this morning. Like I didn¡¯t matter. And now he thinks he can waltz in here, with his beautiful daughter, and tell me that I¡¯m the only woman he can trust. How dare he. I want to yell at him. And punch him. And yell some more. But he¡¯s right. I can go back to despising him tomorrow.

    I shake my head and open my eyes. ¡°Fine.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s shoulders slump and his head dips. ¡°Thank you, Sasha. Thank you.¡±

    I ignore his words and step around him heading for my phone where I left it on the couch. Captain jumps down from the windowsill, apparently deeming it safe now. He likes people, but usually sits back watching the first few minutes when new guests arrive.

    ¡°Can I pet him?¡± Annie asks in a quiet voice as she walks towards the cat.

    ¡°Absolutely. His name is Captain.¡± I tell her with a smile. ¡°He¡¯s a giant pussy cat and will love you forever if you give him even just a little bit of attention.¡±

    Annie crouches down and Captain rubs hisrge gray body against her knees. She cautiously reaches her hand out, stroking gently down his back. I can hear him purring from here.

    I do a quick google search and take a handful of screenshots then text them to Vincent. His phone pings.

    ¡°Take your phone out,¡± I tell him, my voice losing all the warmth I gave Annie.

    He does as I ask, and I watch as his brow wrinkles while he looks through the images. While he¡¯s looking at his screen, I text him anothermand.

    Me: Also get her a pair of regr underwear.

    I don¡¯t want to say that out loud and embarrass the poor girl. But I don¡¯t know if what she¡¯s wearing is still clean, or if she wears thongs, but neither Mazzanti is carrying a bag. Meaning they came here with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have this stuff here?¡± Vincent asks me.

    I give him my best you¡¯re an idiot look. ¡°I only have tampons. That¡¯s not exactly an appropriate introduction for a girl who just got her first period. And I swear to god, if you try to mansin menstruation to me, I¡¯m going to punch you in the ear.¡±

    I think I hear Annie snicker.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Vincent nods. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Go.¡± I put my hand on his chest and push him back towards the door.

    Vincent looks over the top of my head to where Annie is still petting the cat. ¡°Annie, are you going to be okay if¡­¡±

    Annie cuts him off. ¡°Oh my god, dad. Just go.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going.¡± Vincent throws his hands up. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back, and I¡¯ll have my phone on me the whole time.¡±

    I follow him to the door and hand him my key, ¡°I don¡¯t know how you got up here, but use this to let yourself back in.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I can¡¯t tell you how much I appreciate this.¡± He sounds sincere, and that¡¯s almost harder to deal with after the way he was earlier.

    When he steps out into the hallway, I follow him, holding the door mostly closed behind me.

    I drop my voice to a whisper, but I¡¯m sure my eyes convey just how mad I am. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. That poor girl needs someone who knows what they¡¯re doing and that¡¯s why I¡¯m allowing you to be here. Don¡¯t you dare confuse mypassion for Annie as forgiveness for you. I¡¯m doing this for her.¡± I swallow down my growing anger. ¡°I can¡¯t take any more of your push-and-pull act. You crossed the line this morning. I¡¯ve never felt more used or humiliated in my life. I¡¯m not even surprised that there are no other women in your life besides your mother. I must be a special brand of desperate to keep letting you back into my heart. But that¡¯s done.¡± Vincent opens his mouth to reply, but I jab him in the chest with my pointer finger. ¡°Don¡¯t. Just¡­ don¡¯t.¡±

    I leave him there, and step back into my apartment. I didn¡¯t mean to use the word heart. Not out loud.

    Locking the door, I shake off my rant and focus on my next task. ¡°Alright, Annie. Follow me.¡±

    My apartment has one main room, then opposite the front door is a hallway with two bedrooms and one bathroom. The first door we pass is my guest room/office space. John is pretty much the only person who stays over, but I like having a spot for him when he visits. The next door is the bathroom. I only have one, but it¡¯s the whole reason I chose this apartment. It¡¯s modern, has double vanities, lots of storage, and a fabulous walk-in shower.

    Inside the bathroom, I open one of the cabs and pull out a little basket. Annie is standing awkwardly in the doorway, so I motion her toe closer.

    ¡°Here.¡± I hand her the basket. ¡°Smell these and pick out the one you like best.¡±

    ¡°What are these?¡± She asks, picking up one of the small cubes and lifting it to her nose.

    ¡°They¡¯re shower bombs. Like bath bombs, but for the shower.¡± I shrug. ¡°If I had a bathtub, I¡¯d probably live in there.¡±

    I see the side of her mouth turn up. ¡°Yeah, I have a tub. I use it all the time.¡±

    ¡°Lucky duck.¡± I pick up the green one and sniff it. ¡°I can never pick a favorite. It all depends on my mood. Which is why I have so many.¡±

    ¡°My grandma got me some bath bombs for Christmasst year. I like the glittery ones, but they drive my dad crazy.¡±

    I grin at that mental image of a scowling, sparkly Vincent. ¡°I bet.¡±

    Annie holds up a dark purple one. ¡°This one smells nice.¡±

    ¡°Then that¡¯s the one you¡¯ll use.¡± I put the basket away and pull out a fluffy towel. I spoil myself with my clothes and with my toiletries. ¡°I know you don¡¯t need a shower, but they always make me feel better. Just drop that onto the shower floor and the whole room will smell wonderful. Plus, we have some time to waste before your dad gets back with his purchases.¡±

    Annie wraps her arms around herself and she suddenly looks younger. This shy, unsure girl is so different from the one that confronted me at the press conference yesterday.

    I sit down on the toilet lid, so we¡¯re nearly the same height. ¡°I get that we don¡¯t really know each other, but I want you to know that you can trust me. It might feel ufortable, but you can ask me anything. I¡¯m sorry that you¡¯re having to deal with this today. And I¡¯m sorry that the timing sucks so much. I¡¯m sure you¡¯d rather be with your grandma, but I promise that I¡¯ll be here for whatever you need.¡±

    ¡°Why are you helping me?¡± Her voice is quiet.

    ¡°Because my mom would want me to.¡± The words are out of my mouth before I even realize what I¡¯m saying.

    Something in my tone has Annie¡¯s eyes snapping up to mine. ¡°Is your mom dead, too?¡±

    Too. Oh my god¡­

    My breath catches and my throat goes tight. Is that why Vincent won¡¯t talk about Annie¡¯s mother? Because she¡¯s dead.

    Pushing away my questions, I nod. ¡°She passed away a long time ago. But she was the one who helped me when I first got my period. It made a big difference for me, having someone there. And I know she¡¯d want me to help you. too.¡±

    Annie bites her lip, and I can tell she¡¯s not sure what to say.

    I force a smile. ¡°When youe out, I¡¯ll tell you the story about when I first got mine. It involves a bike and a pair of white jeans.¡± She cringes and I nod. ¡°Yeah, not pretty.¡±

    Standing, I gesture to the shower. ¡°Feel free to use any of the stuff I have in there. I think there are like three types of body wash. I¡¯m sure the shower at your ce is moreplicated than mine, but let me know if you have any questions.¡± I reach into another closet and pull out a bright pink robe that¡¯s covered in red hearts. ¡°Put this on when you¡¯re done and then we can dig through my pajamas and find you somethingfortable to wear.¡±

    Setting the robe on the counter, I give it a pat.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Annie says, her voice sounding a little stronger.

    ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡± We look at each other for a moment, and I feel so weird asking this, but I also feel like I need to. ¡°Do you, um, have any questions about what your body is doing?¡±

    This earns me an eye roll. ¡°I took health ss. I know what puberty is.¡±

    Seeing a bit of her attitudee back is a weight off my chest. ¡°Okay, good. How does your stomach feel? Do you have any cramps?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°I think that¡¯s what I was having early this morning. That¡¯s why I had my grandma bring me home. I thought it was something I ate.¡±

    The way she says that makes me think that she knew I was there, but I don¡¯t bring it up. ¡°I¡¯m d to hear it¡¯s stopped. If it starts up again, I know a few tricks that can help. A nice hot shower or bath is a good ce to start.¡±

    Pulling the bathroom door shut behind me, I slump against the wall. This is so not how I thought tonight would go.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 28

    The bathroom door clicks open. ¡°Sasha?¡±

    ¡°In here.¡± I call out from my bedroom. ¡°End of the hall.¡±

    Annie steps into my room, looking tiny and adorable bundled up in my bulky heart robe. Her hair has been towel-dried and twisted into a loose braid. She might be the daughter of a single father, but she has more hair skills then I did at that age. Hell, she probably has more skill than I¡¯ll ever have.

    ¡°How was it?¡± I ask.

    She shrugs. ¡°It was good.¡±

    We both turn at the sound of the front door opening and closing.

    I raise an eyebrow when I nce at the clock. ¡°I think your dad must have sprinted around the store to be done this quick.¡± Annie giggles. ¡°Wait here, I¡¯ll grab the stuff.¡±

    I hurry down the hall to see Vincent toeing off his shoes and lining them up next to Annie¡¯s at my front door. The sight of him here, in my apartment, looking like he belongs, is enough to put a stutter in my step. And watching him stride towards me in sock d feet is too much for me to handle right now. His worried expression is just one more scratch on my exposed nerves. I mentally wrap my heart in ice packs. I can¡¯t let my well-earned barriers melt this quickly.

    We meet in the mouth of the hallway.

    ¡°How is she?¡± Vincent¡¯s voice is raw

    His concern is another strike against my wall. I swallow against the pain. I can¡¯t reconcile this man with the one who treated me so poorly only hours ago. It¡¯s all just too overwhelming. My heart is sore from thinking about my mom. My heart is breaking for that poor little girl who¡¯s also lost a mother. My heart hurts for a man who doesn¡¯t know what he wants from me.

    The emotional turmoil must show on my face because Vincent steps closer. ¡°What happened? Is she okay?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s fine, Vincent. I promise. I just¡­¡± I just what? I drop my gaze from his and reach for the bags. ¡°Thank you for getting this. We¡¯ll be out in a bit.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me for buying stuff for my own daughter.¡± Vincent replies quietly.

    ¡°You know what I mean.¡± I grab the bags from his hands.

    Before I can step away, Vincent wraps his arms around me. It¡¯s sudden and unexpected. He doesn¡¯t ask permission. He doesn¡¯t warn me. He just pulls my body tight against his.

    His heat causes a shudder to roll through my body. I don¡¯t want to like this. I don¡¯t want to feelforted by this man, but his scent alone is causing my head to spin. His arms tighten. Mine are trapped at my side so I can¡¯t hug him back. And I don¡¯t try.

    Vincent¡¯s lips are against my hair and I can feel his chest rumble as he speaks. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to let people in. I¡¯m only good at breaking things. I¡­ I¡¯ll make this right. I¡¯ll make it right.¡± He presses a kiss to the top of my head before loosening his grip and stepping away.

    Unable to deal with my feelings for Vincent on top of everything else, I keep my eyes down as I turn and hustle back to my room.

    Dumping the bags out on my bed I see that Vincent got way more than I told him.

    ¡°That seems like a lot.¡± Annie says with a skeptical look.

    ¡°Uh, yeah. Your dad doesn¡¯t really follow directions, does he?¡±

    Annie gives me a perfect Duh expression. ¡°Ya think?¡±

    Theugh that bursts out of me is so unexpected I startle Annie as much as I startle myself. But I can¡¯t stop. I have to bend over, bracing myself on the bed, I¡¯mughing so hard. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m¡­¡± I can¡¯t even talk. Either I¡¯m that much of a spectacle, or Annie finds her dad¡¯sck of restraint equally funny, because her tinklingugh joins mine. Weugh together long enough that my sides start to ache. The sound is a balm to my soul as tension leaves my body.

    ¡°Okay.¡± I wipe the tears from my face. ¡°Oh my gosh, I needed that. Alright, let¡¯s see what the crazy man got.¡±

    Together we straighten out all the packages. I had sent him photos of the different pads to get. One regr. One heavy. One overnight. One panty liner. All of the same popr brand. I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d need the heavy for her first period, but it¡¯s better to be safe than sorry. One package of each would¡¯ve been plenty. One of each would probablyst her a couple months. Vincent bought two boxes of each. And then twice over in two other brands. Resulting in a totally absurd number of pads.

    When Annie pulls out four multi-packs of underwear, we both lose it again.

    Fifteen minutester, Annie emerges from the bathroom.

    ¡°It feels weird.¡± Annie says while making a face.

    ¡°Yeah, they aren¡¯t the mostfortable thing in the world. But they¡¯re way better than they used to be. And you have more than enough to choose from so you can y around and find which ones you like best. When you feel ready to try tampons let me know and we can send your dad out to buy a truckload.¡±

    Annie shakes her head. ¡°I can¡¯t believe him.¡±

    This is the most rxed she¡¯s looked since she got here. She¡¯s wearing a pair of my sleep pants that I idently ordered several sizes too small and never got around to returning. They¡¯re still too big for her, but they¡¯ll work. And because I thought it¡¯d be funny; I gave her my other FBI sweatshirt. It¡¯s also too big, but it¡¯s soft and perfect for lounging.

    ¡°So, would you like to help me make some hot chocte? We could watch a movie if you don¡¯t need to go home right away.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯d be okay. I mean, if my dad doesn¡¯t mind.¡±

    We walk side by side into the living room to find Vincent sitting on the couch, with my attention whore cat sprawled across hisp.

    Hearing us approach, Vincent turns his head. Annie goes right to him, and immediately starts petting Captain. Vincent watches her closely, as if he¡¯s checking for injuries. His eyebrows are pulled together, and his lips are pulled into a tight line. I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s expecting to see, but she really is fine.

    I see the moment he reads the front of her sweatshirt. His gaze halts, then the corner of his mouth tips up. Slowly he slides his eyes to me, making a point to look at my chest, which is also printed with therge yellow letters.

    ¡°Cute.¡± He mouths the word.

    I have to remind myself that I¡¯m still mad at him, so I only shrug.

    ¡°Dad.¡± Annie¡¯s voice breaks our stare off. ¡°Can we stay for a bit? Sasha said we could make cocoa and watch a movie.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s eyes widen and he looks back and forth between me and his daughter. ¡°Sure. If Sasha¡¯s okay with it, I don¡¯t see why not.¡±

    Turns out Annie is a hot chocte making expert. Annie is a constant reminder of the hidden side of Vincent. The side I didn¡¯t know about. The side that has hot chocte mix in his cupboard. The side who taught Annie how to make s¡¯mores over a gas lit stove. It¡¯s a side of him, but it¡¯s a part of the man as a whole. A man who buys his daughter pink shoes. A man who looks worried-sick because his little girl is bing a woman.

    I show Annie where everything is, but she masters the slow simmer of the milk, and whisking in the perfect amount of cocoa on her own. We both agree the perfect amount of chocte is a spoonful more than what the directions say, ignoring Vincent¡¯s gripes about not making it too sweet. He watches both of us carefully from his spot at the ind. He¡¯s a control freak for sure, but he¡¯s able to sit back and recognize that Annie has the task handled.

    ¡°Do you have any marshmallows?¡± Annie asks hopefully.

    The grin on her face when I pull out my bag of giant pink marshmallows hits me square in the chest. Somehow over the past hour I¡¯ve started to fall a little bit in love with this girl.

    It¡¯s still hard for me to understand how such a sweet creature was raised by such a difficult man. But the more time I spend with Annie, the more I understand why Vincent is so protective of her. I¡¯m not ready to forgive his shitty behavior, but his actions are starting to make sense. He¡¯s solely responsible for her wellbeing, her happiness, her future. I don¡¯t know the story behind Annie¡¯s mother¡¯s death, but I¡¯m sure that had an effect on Vincent as well.

    His words from the hallway swim back into my mind. I¡¯m only good at breaking things.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 29

    The movie credits start to run as I watch my two girls sleep on the couch.

    My girls.

    I¡¯m not sure if my brain is ready to catch up to the feelings in my chest. As much as I want to deny it, as much as I want to pretend my life is perfect just how it is, a part of me epts that Sasha feels right. She feels right with me. With us. I wanted to situate myself between them, but I¡¯m not sure Sasha would¡¯ve let me¡­ and I didn¡¯t want to create a scene. Annie between us is the perfect metaphor for how I feel.

    As the movie progressed, they both slowly slid down into their current resting ces. Annie with her head in myp. Sasha curled against the far side of a couch. A throw nket shared between them. The sight is nearly too much for me to take in. I don¡¯t know if I should etch it to my memory or scratch it from all recollection.

    I¡¯ve had my share of hard days throughout my life. You can do your best to prepare for them, but you never know when they¡¯ll hit or what they¡¯ll consist of. And today, starting before I even woke up this morning, has been one of my worst days in recent memory.

    This morning started the chain reaction that led me to this moment. This moment where I¡¯m forced to question everything.

    I don¡¯t know why I have these self-sabotaging behaviors, but that¡¯s exactly what I did this morning. That nightmare is not one I have often. I¡¯m not used to it. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever be used to it. So I was already off kilter when I realized that Sasha was still in my bed. Thatbination alone would¡¯ve been enough to make me crazy, but the sound of Annieing home sent me into asshole mode. I panicked. Ished out, snapping at Sasha, implying that she was just some fuck. Letting her think that she wasn¡¯t anything special. It settled a boulder of guilt on my shoulders that still hasn¡¯t lifted.

    I tried to apologize when I got back from the store, but it wasn¡¯t enough. I have so much to exin, but I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m ready. And honestly, I don¡¯t know how. I¡¯ve had these self-imposed rules for so long, thinking I was protecting Annie, but now I¡¯m second-guessing them. I figured I was doing Annie a favor by letting her think she¡¯s the only girl I care about. But was that wrong? I thought I was protecting her. I thought I was being smart. But all I did was put myself between a rock and a lonely hard ce.

    This morning, Annie hadn¡¯t been feeling well and that¡¯s why they came home early. I figured it was too much sugar. Or allergies. Or normal shit. I was in no way prepared to handle Annie getting her period. I thought I had another year, at least. She¡¯s my little princess and I¡¯m not ready for her to grow up. With every milestone, I feel her slipping from my grip a little bit more.

    Not knowing how to help my daughter made me feel like a failure. Like I was losing my hold on my carefully crafted life. When my girl came to me crying, worried and embarrassed, I felt helpless. I didn¡¯t know what to do. With my mom out of town and no one else to turn to, it hit me like a fucking brick wall. Annie¡¯s grandma is literally her only female role model. One. She had one woman to look up to. To talk to. To confide in. And my heart cracked.

    Annie needs more than just me in her life. She deserves more than that. She deserves a whole army of people to care for her. And when I closed my eyes, my mind only went to one person. Sasha. My fiery sweetheart. Sasha, who wears her feelings on her sleeve. Sasha, who is as kind as she is brilliant. Sasha, who I kicked out of my bed this morning while telling her to hide.

    I didn¡¯t deserve herpassion. Sasha owed me nothing, but still she didn¡¯t hesitate to help. Not once she saw Annie. Sasha¡¯s clearly, and rightfully, still pissed at me, but she didn¡¯t take that out on my daughter. She could have. But she didn¡¯t. And it makes me hate myself even more for how I treated her.

    Sasha didn¡¯t ask for any of this. I approached her in that bar. I chased her down in that elevator. I changed the n at work, forcing her to report directly to me. I brought her into my home, breaking my own rule. I dragged my daughter over here. It¡¯s all on me. Every part of this mess is my fault. Earlier, when I forced my hug onto her, I promised that I¡¯d fix this. And I will. I¡¯m just not sure how.

    A soft humes from Sasha before she slowly sits up, blinking her eyes. The lights are mostly off, but the glow from the TV highlights her beautiful sleepy face. She mps a hand over her mouth as she yawns, and I watch as her gaze slowly travels over Annie¡¯s sleeping form, before raising up to my face.

    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to doze off.¡± She whispers.

    I shake my head. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. I think Annie was out before you were.¡±

    I can see the thoughts tumbling around in her brain. I stay silent, wanting her to say what she¡¯s thinking. But what she says is not at all what I was expecting.

    ¡°You two can stay here if you¡¯d like. The guest room is nothing special, but it¡¯s clean.¡± My face must show my shock and she tenses. ¡°I just meant if you didn¡¯t want to drive home. It¡¯ste. I¡¯m not trying to¡­¡±

    I cut her off. ¡°That would be really nice. Annie seemsfortable with you. But if it¡¯s imposing too much¡­¡±

    She cuts me off. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t offer it if I didn¡¯t mean it. Don¡¯t be dense.¡±

    The corner of my mouth tips up at Sasha¡¯s attitude.

    I give Annie¡¯s shoulder a shake. ¡°Princess.¡± She mumbles something incoherent, but her eyes open so I know she can hear me. ¡°You okay with staying here tonight?¡±

    Rubbing her eyes, Annie sits up and nods. Then she looks at Sasha. ¡°Can I stay in your room?¡±

    Annie¡¯s words are a sucker punch to my gut. My daughter would rather be with a woman she barely knows than with me.

    Sasha gives Annie a soft smile. ¡°Of course. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve had a sleepover.¡±

    I force my features not to show my hurt when I pull Annie into a hug. ¡°Try to keep the giggling to a minimum. Us old men need our sleep.¡±

    She squirms away from me. ¡°Oh my god, dad. Why are you always so weird?¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 30

    I don¡¯t mean to eavesdrop. But when I step out of the bathroom and hear Annie¡¯s voice, I can¡¯t stop myself from walking over and standing next to the partially open bedroom door.

    ¡°Sounds like your mom knew what she was doing.¡± Annie says.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Sasha replies. ¡°She was pretty great, but there was no way to save those white jeans.¡±

    There¡¯s a stretch of silence and I turn to walk away.

    Then Annie¡¯s voicees again, quieter this time. ¡°How did she die?¡±

    I still, already dreading where this conversation might go.

    ¡°Ovarian Cancer. They found it toote and weren¡¯t able to do much to help her. Of course, she didn¡¯t want my brother and I to worry, so she didn¡¯t tell us for the longest time. I was in my first year of college, and my brother was just starting his career as a cop. When we found out, we spent as much time with her as possible. But it wasn¡¯t enough. It never is.¡±

    ¡°At least she loved you.¡± Annie¡¯s words rip a hole in my chest. ¡°My mom didn¡¯t even want me. She sold me to my dad. She was supposed to be the one to help with this stuff. She was supposed to be here. She was supposed to be my mom.¡± Annie¡¯s voice breaks and a momentter I hear her soft sobs.

    I¡¯m frozen in ce. Not sure what to do. I¡¯ve never heard her say anything like this before. I want to run to her. Tell her she¡¯s perfect. Tell her that her mother is the one who¡¯s missing out. That she doesn¡¯t need anyone else when she has me. I want to wrap her up in my arms and protect her from the world.

    But isn¡¯t that what I¡¯ve been doing? What if I¡¯ve been doing the opposite of what Annie needs this whole time? What if I¡¯ve managed to mess up Annie along with everything else?

    Sasha¡¯s cooing sounds offort float through the doorway. ¡°It¡¯s okay, darling. It¡¯s okay.¡±

    Annie¡¯s voice is muffled but I can still make out the words. ¡°I saw the papers once. That¡¯s how I know what happened. I was still a baby when she sold me to dad. She gave me up for money. Why didn¡¯t she like me? She didn¡¯t even know me. I don¡¯t think she ever tried to see me. And then she died. Dad says she didn¡¯t mean to. That she was sick, and she idently took too many drugs. But it doesn¡¯t matter does it? She¡¯s gone, and I¡¯ll never get to prove to her that I¡¯m worth it. That she should¡¯ve tried harder to love me.¡±

    My body sags against the wall as my legs give out and I slide to the floor.

    ¡°Oh Annie, it¡¯s not that she didn¡¯t love you. Or that she didn¡¯t like you. When someone like that leaves, it¡¯s about them, not you. She just wasn¡¯t ready. It doesn¡¯t mean she didn¡¯t want to keep you, but maybe she couldn¡¯t. You can love someone and still let them go. Especially when it¡¯s the best thing for them. If your mom was sick, then she probably wasn¡¯t in a ce where she could take care of you. And your dad loves you so much, I¡¯m sure your mom knew he¡¯d take care of you.¡±

    Annie sniffs. ¡°But she never came back. I was like three when she died. She could havee back.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. She could¡¯ve. It¡¯s okay to be mad at her. You can be angry about what she did. But don¡¯t you dare let her actions make you feel like you¡¯re anything less than perfect. People make decisions all the time that theyter regret. They do things they don¡¯t mean. They say things they can¡¯t take back. And sometimes people are too sick to get better. Physically or mentally. But that¡¯s not on you.¡± Sasha lets out a deep exhale. ¡°My brother and I have different dads. My mom was married to his dad, but he died in a car ident when my brother was about 5. I came along 2 yearster. ording to my mom, I was the best kind of surprise. But apparently, my dad didn¡¯t agree.¡±

    ¡°He left?¡± Annie whispers the question.

    ¡°Yep. My dad walked out before I was born and as far as I know, he never tried to meet me. I was angry about it for a long time. And I was sad about it for even longer. But after a while I realized that I already had enough. I had an amazing mom who loved me. And even after she was gone, I had my brother. We can¡¯t change what other people do, but we can appreciate what we have.¡±

    ¡°Like my dad.¡± Annie replies. ¡°I know he can be a bit over the top, but he¡¯s a really great dad.¡±

    I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push down the emotions that are battering around inside my skull.

    ¡°He can be a bit over the top.¡± Sasha agrees. ¡°But I can see how much he loves you. Your dad would do anything for you. It¡¯s easy to forget about the good things we have and focus on the things we wish we had. It happens to everyone, but when it happens to you, remind yourself about all the love in your life. Your dad. Your grandma. Your huge Uncle Angelo. Your friends.¡±

    Annie huffs out a breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about what I said to you the other day. I don¡¯t really think you¡¯re trying to get my dad¡¯s money. I was just¡­ I dunno.¡±

    My head jerks up. What is she talking about? When did Annie say that to Sasha? And why didn¡¯t either of them tell me?

    ¡°No apology necessary.¡± Sasha says calmly. ¡°I grew up with a single parent, too, remember? I know how it can be. It¡¯s okay.¡±

    Annie mumbles something in reply, but I can¡¯t hear it.

    ¡°You can alwayse to me if you need anything. Even if you just want to vent. I promise not to judge.¡± Sasha offers.

    ¡°What if you and my dad break up?¡± Annie¡¯s voice doesn¡¯t hide her worry.

    I expect Sasha to stumble over her words, deny our history, point out that we aren¡¯t really in a rtionship. But she does none of those things.

    ¡°Even then, darling.¡± Sasha replies. ¡°Even then.¡±

    It¡¯s all too much. My barriers crumble around me, as I sit on the floor with my face in my hands and my heart in pieces. How did I let this all get so fucked up? How could I be so blind to Annie¡¯s pain? I¡¯ve sunk to eavesdropping in order to figure out what¡¯s going on in my own family. Only to find my daughter stuck in a battle I didn¡¯t see, relying on Sasha tofort her. Sasha. The woman I¡¯m beginning to realize I need in my life.

    I fight through one ragged breath, then another, trying to gain control of myself.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I think I¡¯m imagining Sasha¡¯s voice, until I hear it again. ¡°Vincent.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s whispering my name from the bedroom.

    With far too much effort, I push myself off the ground and press the door further open. Themp next to the bed is lit, casting a somber shadow across the room.

    Sasha is lying along one side of the bed with Annie curled up and asleep in the middle.

    Sasha holds my gaze for a beat before nodding to the open side of the bed. I don¡¯t even pretend to resist. Or deny the fact that I was listening to them. I¡¯m sure my face gives me away, probably looking as haunted as I feel.

    Pulling back theforter, I slide into Sasha¡¯s bed. Sasha and I facing each other, Annie tucked safely in the middle.

    When Sasha reaches her hand out to me, I take it.

    With our fingers intertwined, and my arm draped over my daughters back, I let emotional exhaustion tug me into sleep.

    Mercifully, I don¡¯t dream.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 31

    A soft rumbling sound slowly brings me into consciousness. The bed around me is soft and warm and smells like Sasha. My mind is not quite awake but the memories ofst night start to seep in. I should get up. But hiding in sleep sounds like a great idea.

    The rumbling sound starts again, followed by a thud against my forehead.

    I peel my eyes open and find that I¡¯m face to face with arge gray cat.

    ¡°Hey, Cap.¡± My voice is scratchy from sleep.

    He headbutts me again and I finally recognize the rumbling as a purr.

    ¡°I¡¯m up. I¡¯m up.¡±

    With a groan, I push myself up and look around the room. I didn¡¯t pay attention to my surroundings when I came in herest night, my mind was too weighted down to take in the details.

    Sitting here now, alone, I take it in. The walls are a pale yellow. The furniture is white, all clean lines and heavy wood. The bedding is a soft teal. It¡¯s girly and happy and not at all what I was picturing, but somehow it fits Sasha perfectly.

    The window is covered with a heavy curtain that matches the bedding, but there¡¯s bright light shining in around the edges. Rubbing my eyes, I search for a clock.

    ¡°Holy shit, Captain! Why didn¡¯t you wake me up sooner?¡± I ask the cat, like a totally normal human being.

    I don¡¯t remember thest time I slept past 8:00. Let alone 9:00. The events ofst night must have taken an even bigger toll than I thought. I ce my hand on the mattress next to me and find it cool to the touch.

    Pushing out of bed, I take the time to stretch out my tight muscles and adjust myself. Sleeping in jeans is about as ufortable as you can get.

    My gazends on a photo framed on the wall. It¡¯s Sasha. It has to be. I¡¯d say she¡¯s about 6 or 7, and the woman with her must be her mother. The resemnce is unmistakable. The rich brown hair. The hazel eyes. The sweet smile. There¡¯s a boy in the picture, and ¨C based on age ¨C I¡¯d guess that¡¯s her older brother, John. The FBI agent.

    Making my way around Sasha¡¯s room, I take in all the photographs. The frames are different sizes, different colors, giving the room an eclectic gallery feel. One wall is all photos of family. One is all photos of stills. Flowers. A riverbed. mes. The photography is beautiful and looks to be done by the same artist.

    Pulling the door open, I hear female voices. Captain bumps into my leg before trotting down the hall. As if to say,e on jackass. On an exhale, I follow the cat.

    I knew that Annie and Sasha would be together. Obviously. But I wasn¡¯t prepared. The sight before me has my chest feeling like it¡¯s splitting open all over again. At this point, I might as well pluck my heart out and set it on a tray. It¡¯d be just as safe sitting out in the open.

    ¡°¡­and then Devon was telling his friends that he kissed Sadie at the bowling alley. But Sadie wasn¡¯t even at the bowling alley. Her family was at Wisconsin Dells that weekend.¡± Annie sounds exasperated. ¡°Why are boys so dumb? It¡¯s like they don¡¯t even think sometimes.¡±

    Sasha¡¯sugh is loud and clear. ¡°Oh Annie, you have no idea. I¡¯d like to say they grow out of it. But that¡¯s not exactly true.¡±

    Annie scoffs. ¡°I believe that.¡±

    I¡¯m standing at the end of the hallway, not quite out of the shadows, watching them as though I¡¯m looking at an alternate reality. A reality that I¡¯m beginning to think I want.

    Annie and Sasha are still in their matching FBI sweatshirts. Both have their hair pulled up into high ponytails, and they¡¯re both wearing frilly white aprons. Raising Annie has turned me into a decent cook, so I recognize most of the ingredients that are spread out all over the kitchen ind. They¡¯re making pancakes. Fucking pancakes. The meal that Annie always asks me to make when she¡¯s had a hard week. The meal that we make together on Sundays when she tells me stories about her week. The sort of stories you tell your parents. The sort of stories you¡¯d tell your mom. The sort of stories that Annie is currently telling Sasha.

    My mind shes to this same scene, only this time I¡¯m seeing it in my apartment. All of us together. Smiles andughs and pancakes as a family. A family. The word is so thick in my mind it makes my throat hurt. Is it actually possible? I¡¯ve been pushing women away for thest decade, promising myself that I would focus on Annie. That I would do everything in my power to give her the best life possible. Have I been doing it wrong this whole time? Or was it only wrong because those other women weren¡¯t Sasha? Can I give Annie more? Can we have this? Could I have a partner to face life with? Would Sasha even want that? Could she love Annie as her own? Could she love me?

    My heart is racing, and I feel like I might copse under my impending panic attack.

    The cat bumps his head into my shin, snapping me out of my daze and lets out a loud meow.

    My eyes refocus on the girls in the kitchen at the same time that they look up to see me.

    ¡°Dad! Geez, you finally decided to wake up?¡± Annie teases me with a wide smile on her face.

    ¡°Morning, Princess.¡± I choke out, walking towards my daughter and pulling her in for a hug.

    I hope they¡¯ll attribute my rough voice to the fact that I just woke up, and not to the fact that I¡¯m trying my hardest not to cry. Cry. Me. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve really cried since¡­ fuck, since Annie was nearly kidnapped.

    I squeeze her tighter, kissing the top of her head.

    ¡°Okay, okay.¡± Annie says as she struggles against my grip.

    ¡°Good morning.¡± Sasha¡¯s voice is tentative.

    Releasing Annie, I meet Sasha¡¯s eyes. She sees it. What I¡¯m trying to hide.

    ¡°Coffee?¡± She asks, pretending this is all normal. Pretending that my world hasn¡¯t been imploding around me over the past 24 hours.

    Nodding, I take the mug she offers.

    I stand in the way long enough for Annie to ask me why I¡¯m being so weird and for Sasha to shove me towards one of the barstools lining the ind.

    ¡°Just sit down and rx, big guy.¡± Sasha says flicking my chest.

    Rx? Yeah, sure.

    I managed to make it through breakfast without making a scene, which was its own small miracle. Mostly, I just listened to Annie and Sasha talk about girl-stuff and pre-teen drama. And Annie showed me some photos she took using Sasha¡¯s camera. They were just of books and other things around the apartment, but Annie was thrilled. Turns out most of the framed work in Sasha¡¯s bedroom was taken by the woman herself. And now my little artist wants a camera for Christmas. Of course.

    The two of them were so at ease with each other, you¡¯d never know that they¡¯d just met. I haven¡¯t forgotten about the little detail fromst night¡¯s conversation. Something about Annie using Sasha of being after my money. I want to ask Annie why she would even think such a thing, but if they¡¯ve moved past it, I won¡¯t bring it up. Clearly, there¡¯s a lot going on in Annie¡¯s head that I¡¯ve been oblivious to, and that needs to change.

    ¡°Do you mind if I wear this stuff home? I can give it back next time I see you.¡± Annie asks Sasha as she deposits thest dirty te in the sink.

    ¡°No problem.¡± Sasha replies automatically, before moving her gaze to me. ¡°Or¡­ well¡­¡±

    Of course, she¡¯s unsure where I stand on all of this. I went from seducing her, to kicking her out, to being a goddamn wreck.

    ¡°If it¡¯s okay with Sasha, that¡¯s fine with me.¡± I ruffle Annie¡¯s hair, a move she pretends to hate. ¡°Go grab the¡­ stuff I bought you, then we¡¯ll head out.¡±

    Annie and Sasha nce at each other and both burst into a fit of giggles.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, looking back and forth between them.

    They justugh harder but Annie heads down the hall to collect her things from Sasha¡¯s room.

    Sasha is still chuckling, her back to me. With Annie out of view, I grab Sasha¡¯s shoulder and spin her to face me. She lets out a squeak of surprise, but the sound is muffled as I pull her to me. My arms wrap around her. One around her back. The other around her shoulders, my hand cradling the back of her head.

    For one heartbeat, her body tenses. If she pushes me away now, I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯ll do. I know I don¡¯t deserve her, not after everything I¡¯ve done. Not after how I¡¯ve acted. But that doesn¡¯t stop me from wanting her. Wanting her eptance. Her affection.

    I open my mouth to beg for her forgiveness, but my words are cut off by the feeling of her body rxing. Her face turns to the side so her cheek can rest against my sternum. I squeeze her tighter and her armse up to wrap around my waist. Her small hands sy across my back before curling in to grip my shirt.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I whisper, my lips pressed against the top of her head. Breathing in her scent.

    Her fingers release their grip, and she rubs her hands up and down my spine. ¡°You don¡¯t need to thank me. She¡¯s a good kid.¡± With my arms around her, I feel her inhale and exhale. ¡°You¡¯re a good dad.¡±

    Those words. My heart clenches. I didn¡¯t know how badly I needed to hear them from her. I grip her body even tighter to mine. Trying to hold the pieces of myself together.

    Sasha pats my back. ¡°Crushing me.¡± She wheezes out.

    ¡°Oh, sorry!¡± I let her go but keep my hands on her shoulders.

    The most adorable smile forms on her lips when she tips her head back to look up at me. I don¡¯t think, I just act. My mouth finds hers. My lips pressing against hers. The feeling is new and old andfortable and exciting. Our kiss is slow. The most unhurried I¡¯ve ever felt. Like this is the first time. A new beginning. A moment I want to savor.

    I drag my hands up her neck until I¡¯m cupping her face. Her perfect face. She makes a small humming sound and I nt my mouth over hers, deepening the kiss. ying my tongue against the seam of her lips. She tastes like strawberries and syrup.

    Our kiss slows to a stop, but we keep our foreheads together. Her hands are gripping my wrists. Not pulling them away, just holding on.

    ¡°Can I see you tomorrow?¡± I ask, not caring how pleading I sound.

    Sasha runs her hands down to my elbows then back up to my wrists as she hums her agreement. ¡°I have to meet with Cheryl in the morning, but I¡¯ll be at the Mazzanti offices after that.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± I press a kiss to her forehead, where ours had been touching.

    ¡°Ugh, get a room.¡± Annie says with a fake gag, appearing back in the kitchen.

    Sasha tries to step back, but I don¡¯t release my grip on her. Not until I kiss her forehead once more.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 32

    ¡°Sasha!¡± Jessica calls my name the moment I step out of my boss¡¯s office.

    Finally, I feel like I can breathe again. A two-hour meeting with Cheryl was almost more than my poor brain could deal with. I was sure the fact that I¡¯d spent half the weekend with Vincent was stamped all over my face. It took every ounce of my self-control to not just blurt out I¡¯ve been sleeping with Vincent Mazzanti!

    ¡°Wait up!¡± Jessica calls again, even though I haven¡¯t moved.

    I smile, as I watch her tiny form speed walk down the hall. Her ck bob swaying back and forth with each step she takes.

    ¡°Hey, Jess. How was your weekend?¡±

    She grins. ¡°Great! That¡¯s what I wanted to talk to you about.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I met this guy. So hot. So flexible.¡± She fans her face.

    Iugh. ¡°Flexible? Do I even want to know?¡±

    She ps as she does a little hop. ¡°He¡¯s a freaking yoga teacher! How sexy is that?¡±

    My face scrunches. ¡°Uh¡­¡± I¡¯m picturing a painfully thin man in tight pants leering at a room full of women holding downward dog.

    Jessica ps my arm. ¡°Oh my god, I don¡¯t even want to know what you¡¯re imaging right now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡± I give a fake shiver.

    ¡°Whatever. Just say you¡¯lle with me.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    She rolls her eyes. ¡°To one of his yoga sses. He gave me a pair of free passes.¡± Jessica puts her hands together as if in prayer. ¡°Please, please, please. Don¡¯t make me go alone. I need moral support.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°When?¡±

    She squeals. ¡°Wednesday afternoon. I already told Cheryl I¡¯d be taking ate lunch that day. It¡¯s just down the street.¡±

    I think it over. ¡°That should work. Send me the address and time. But ¨C fair warning ¨C I suck at yoga.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. I suck, too!¡± Jessica gives me one of her bouncy hugs before she disappears down the hallway.

    Making my way outside, I pause to pull my sunsses from my bag. Today is one of those beautiful Minnesota summer days that make all of those winter months worth it.

    Pulling my bag back up on my shoulder, I feel my phone vibrate.

    Vincent: Sweetheart if you¡¯re avable,e to my office. I have some free time for the next few hours.

    Sweetheart? Ugh, this man. Honestly, I think kind and caring Vincent might be more dangerous than Devil Vincent. But since I know I won¡¯t get any work done until I see him, I tell him I¡¯ll be there soon.

    Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I realize how d I am that I ran into Jessica. Her happiness helped to calm me down. I¡¯m fairly confident that Cheryl doesn¡¯t suspect anything between Vincent and I, but that meeting was far more stressful than I expected. I¡¯m not good with secrets, and my stupid guilty conscience was jabbing me in the ribs. And every time she said his name I¡¯d sh to the image of Vincent asleep in my bed. And I¡¯d blush.

    Waiting for a crosswalk light to change, I get that strange prickling feeling on the back of my neck again. That sense of being watched. It¡¯s the same feeling I had the morning I shame-walked out of Vincent¡¯s apartment building.

    My sunsses have a solid tint, so I do my best to nonchntly scan the street in front of me trying to spot a suspicious character. No one stands out. Not that I would know what to look for.

    As if on cue, the king of paranoia calls.

    ¡°Hey, Special Agent Nerd.¡± I greet John.

    I can hear his eye roll. ¡°Mature as always, Sasha.¡±

    Still looking around, I ask. ¡°How do you pick a bad yer out of a crowd?¡±

    ¡°Uh, look for the one with a ski mask and a bazooka.¡±

    ¡°Helpful.¡± I deadpan. ¡°Like how would you spot a stalker?¡±

    I¡¯m too busy scanning the other pedestrians as I cross the street to notice my mistake, and the change in his tone. ¡°Why are you asking me this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing.¡± I reply, trying to sound casual. ¡°I just feel like I¡¯m being watched.¡±

    I nearly drop the phone when his voice booms through the speaker. ¡°You have a fucking stalker!?¡±

    ¡°Jesus, chill!¡± My free hand presses against my chest, trying to keep my heart from bouncing out of my chest. ¡°You scared the shit out of me, you asshat.¡±

    ¡°What. Are. You. Talking. About.¡± He punctuates each word.

    ¡°Nothing. Seriously. Take a breath before you pop a blood vessel. Everything is fine. I just had one of those strange feelings like someone was watching me. But it¡¯s nothing. The sidewalk is crowded. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve just had too much caffeine.¡± I leave out the fact that this isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve felt this way.

    ¡°If you think someone is following you, then have your boyfriend hook you up with some security.¡±

    ¡°Uh, hard pass.¡± I cringe at the thought. Vincent is freaking overprotective enough as it is. ¡°And no one is following me, it was just a feeling.¡±

    John hums. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t notice that you didn¡¯t correct me when I called him your boyfriend.¡±

    ¡°Oh my god.¡± I groan. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you called for, but I¡¯m hanging up now.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 33

    Making my way across the executive floor, I smooth down the front of my skirt. Needing the added confidence boost for my meeting with Cheryl this morning, I chose an outfit that I always feel great in. The baby blue wrap dress is simple but ttering on my curves. The V neck doesn¡¯t plunge too far, but it¡¯s enough to make me feel sexy. I even took the extra effort to straighten my hair, so it¡¯sying in a glossy sheet over my shoulders. Paired with a little more jewelry than I¡¯d normally wear, and suede ankle boots, I feel ready to face just about anything.

    Rounding the corner, I spot Vincent. He¡¯s standing next to Brent¡¯s desk, where they appear to be deep in discussion. In profile, Vincent looks just as hot as ever. His dark hair swept back. His stubble highlighting the firm lines of his jaw. His darkshes making it damn near impossible to look away from his nearly ck eyes.

    I can¡¯t decide if he looks best like this. Perfectly tailored suit. Shirt buttoned. Hair in ce. Or how he looked this weekend. Worn jeans hugging his drool-worthy ass. T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders. Hair mussed.

    The truth is Vincent looks hot as fuck no matter what he¡¯s wearing. Or not wearing.

    Vincent is still speaking but Brent must notice the movement of my approach. His attention turns to me and he gives me a slow once over.

    ¡°Hey there, beautiful. You look extra delicious today. Did youe all the way up here just to see me?¡± Brent asks, doing his best to keep a shit-eating grin off his face.

    Vincent¡¯s head whips up. He gives me the same once over, but ¨C when Vincent does it ¨C it feels like he¡¯s doing more than just undressing me with his eyes. It¡¯s as if I can feel his hands peeling my clothes away, caressing the skin beneath.

    I close those thoughts down, not wanting to waste this golden opportunity to mess with him.

    Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I give Brent my best seductive smile. ¡°Awe, thanks sugar. I have to chat with Mr. Mazzanti, but I¡¯ll be sure to save some time for you afterward.¡±

    I swear I hear Vincent growl before he snaps at Brent. ¡°Hold my fucking calls.¡±

    Brent loses his fight against his grin as he mouths Sugar to me, raising his eyebrows. I ignore him.

    ¡°Hi.¡± I smile at Vincent.

    He watches me for a moment before he rolls his eyes, clearly realizing that we¡¯re trying to rile him up. But that doesn¡¯t stop him from gripping my wrist and pulling me into his office. The action reminding me of the over-the-top demanding Vincent that I know well.

    He removes his suit jacket before taking a seat behind his desk. I¡¯m not exactly sure why he asked me toe up here, but he doesn¡¯t make me wait long.

    Vincent lets out a deep sigh, then starts talking. ¡°I know this might not be the most appropriate thing to discuss at the office, but I wanted to thank you for this weekend.¡±

    He¡¯s so serious that I resist the scoff that tries to escape my throat. Most of my memories in this office are far more inappropriate than a mere personal discussion.

    I cross my legs and lean forward in my chair. ¡°You don¡¯t need to thank me. Not again.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± He argues. ¡°You didn¡¯t owe me anything. You could have left me begging outside your door. And in case I haven¡¯t made it clear, I¡¯m sorry for how I treated you that morning in my apartment. I had no right to take my issues out on you. I just¡­¡± He breaks off.

    ¡°I know. I won¡¯t lie and say it doesn¡¯t matter because it does. You made me feel like¡­ like one of many. Your words were harsh, and you hurt me.¡± Vincent looks stricken. I was nning to drag this out more, but for both our sakes, I decide to put him out of his misery. ¡°I forgive you.¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°Sasha.¡±

    I hold up my hand. ¡°I do. If you hadn¡¯te over with Annie, I probably wouldn¡¯t have. Hell, I probably wouldn¡¯t be talking to you at all. But I saw a different side of you this weekend, and think I get it. It doesn¡¯t make how you acted towards me okay, but I do understand. You were trying to keep what we were doing separate from Annie. I can respect that. And I can forgive you. Just don¡¯t ever treat me like that again. Mypassion and empathy have limits.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s exhale is audible. ¡°You¡¯re right. About all of it.¡± He scrubs a hand down his face. ¡°Annie is the best thing in my life. She was also the biggest shock.¡±

    I hold my breath, not wanting to do anything that might stop him. Since my talk about mothers with Annie, my desire to know more has only grown. But I knew I¡¯d have to wait for Vincent to tell me on his own time.

    Vincent leans back in his chair and looks out the window. ¡°I worked out of the Miami offices for thest couple years of my 20¡¯s. There was a group of us that would go out about once a month. Just Angelo and some other guys from work. We always ended up at the same club. There was this girl. She was a bartender. She was nice.¡± He shrugs. ¡°Honestly, I didn¡¯t know her that well. Renee was just there. She was convenient. And hooking up just became part of the routine. She knew what it was. I¡¯m sure she was sleeping with other people, hell she might have even had a boyfriend. I didn¡¯t care. I didn¡¯t know herst name and she didn¡¯t know mine. I didn¡¯t want her knowing who I really was. I always paid in cash. I wasn¡¯t looking for a rtionship.

    ¡°Then some things changed in the business, and I moved to New York. I didn¡¯t tell her. There was no goodbye. There was no need for one. And I didn¡¯t think about her again. Not until she showed up in my building a yearter.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 34

    Isee Angelo¡¯s name and answer distractedly. ¡°Yeah? I¡¯m kinda busy right now.¡±

    ¡°Uh, Vinny, there¡¯s someone here for you.¡±

    His tone pulls my attention away from theputer screen. ¡°What do you mean here for me? Are you working the front door?¡±

    Angelo sighs. ¡°The guys downstairs called me. There¡¯s a woman in the lobby throwing a fit. Saying she needs to talk to you.¡±

    My brows furrow. ¡°A woman?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, man. Fuck. I think it¡¯s that chick from Florida. You know, that blonde chick you were hooking up with at the club.¡±

    It takes me a moment to figure out who he¡¯s talking about. ¡°Wait, are you talking about Renee? Why would she be here? And how the fuck does she know where to find me?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Renee, that¡¯s the name she gave the guys at the door.¡±

    He¡¯s being cagey and I don¡¯t have time for this shit. ¡°Angelo, spit it out.¡±

    ¡°Shit, Vin. She has a baby with her.¡±

    His words hit me one at a time. Like fists, each blow taking the air straight out of my lungs.

    ¡°A baby?¡± I whisper.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Angelo¡¯s voice sounds as pained as I feel. ¡°She¡¯s saying it¡¯s yours.¡±

    I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. Fighting against the urge to be sick.

    ¡°Send her up. And call Uncle Enzo. She might be crazy, but either way I¡¯ll need to get a¡­ a paternity test.¡± I choke out the words. ¡°He¡¯ll know who to call.¡±

    ¡°Will do, brother.¡±

    I swallow down my rising fear. ¡°And get the fuck up here. I shouldn¡¯t be alone in a room with her.¡±

    ¨C

    I have a daughter.

    The test came back. She¡¯s mine. Annie is mine. Having money doesn¡¯t solve everything, but it can get fast results.

    I pace my kitchen. Itching to open the bottle of bourbon that¡¯s sitting on my counter, but knowing that¡¯s thest thing I need. That me getting drunk right now is thest thing my daughter needs. My daughter.

    I wouldn¡¯t have recognized Renee if I¡¯d seen her on the streets. In fact, she looked like she¡¯d been living on the streets. She had always been small, but the past year had not been good to her. Even after having a baby, her previous slender build is now painfully thin. Her blonde hair ¨C dull and stringy. Her skin is no longer tan, but pale and marked.

    She was a user. What sort of drugs, I wasn¡¯t sure. I always knew she was on something back in Florida. But it wasn¡¯t my business. Wasn¡¯t my problem. But now it is. Because she¡¯s been raising my fucking daughter.

    My. Daughter. Each time I roll the word around in my mind, it stings a little bit less. It gets just a little less scary. I can do this. I will do this. Annie¡¯s mine now.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 35

    Listening to Vincent tell his story, I feel like I¡¯m living through it.

    Vincent¡¯s gaze is still aimed out the window. ¡°Once I decided what I needed to do, I put it in motion. I had mywyers draw up the paperwork and within 48 hours Renee signed over all parental rights in exchange for $500,000 and her signature on an NDA. My mom moved in with me that very same day. Two monthster we left New York and moved back to Minnesota. I wanted to raise my daughter in the only ce that¡¯s ever felt like home to me.¡±

    I can¡¯t even imagine how life-altering that experience must have been for him. So I focus my question on Annie. ¡°How was Annie? I mean, was she healthy?¡± Not sure how to ask if her mom¡¯s abuse caused her to be addicted to drugs.

    Vincent finally turns back to face me, the smallest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. ¡°She was perfect. The strongest little baby. Renee had only ever given her form and she must have been clean enough for most of the pregnancy. There were no drugs anywhere in Annie¡¯s system. She turned 6 months old the day the papers were signed. Renee had to have been a couple months along when I moved away. It had never been a consideration. We always used condoms, but clearly something failed along the way. She didn¡¯t know who I was. Didn¡¯t know I was rich. So I don¡¯t think she intentionally got pregnant. For all that¡¯s happened, I¡¯ll be forever grateful that she found me. That she brought Annie into my life. My daughter might look like she only shares my eyes, but she¡¯s so much like me it¡¯s scary sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Annie is lucky to have you. And her grandma.¡± I pause. ¡°How did she find you? Renee. If she didn¡¯t know who you were?¡±

    The smile leaves Vincent¡¯s face and he grinds his teeth. ¡°Randal.¡±

    The anger is palpable in the way he says the name. I wait for him to borate.

    ¡°Renee¡¯s twin brother. I didn¡¯t even know she had a twin until the day she showed up in New York and Angelo ran a background check on her. The two of them were abandoned at birth and went into the system. They managed to stay together throughout their years in the system, and ¨C apparently ¨C they¡¯d still been living together in Florida.

    ¡°Randal is a lot of things. He¡¯s a paranoid sociopath with a multitude of disorders, but he¡¯s also a skilled hacker. Somehow he was able to put the pieces together and track me to New York.¡±

    ¡°Where is he now?¡± I ask, feeling like there¡¯s more.

    ¡°On the run.¡± Vincent shuts his eyes. ¡°Around Annie¡¯s third birthday I got word that Renee had died. It was ruled an idental overdose. I don¡¯t know what drugs she was on over the years, but it was heroin that killed her. I wasn¡¯t surprised. Honestly, I was expecting it. And I¡¯d be lying if I said I was sad.¡± He opens his eyes and looks right at me. ¡°It might make me a monster, but with Renee dead it meant that no one could try to take Annie away from me. She signed away her rights, but there was always a chance that some judge would deem that she¡¯d been unfit to make that decision at the time. And that might be true, but Annie was mine. Is mine. And no one will ever take her from me.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± I whisper. And I do. I hardly know Annie, but I would already do just about anything to protect her. I can only imagine the constant fear Vincent must have lived in, worrying that someday a judge woulde and tear his daughter from his arms.

    He must sense that I¡¯m telling the truth, because he continues. ¡°The first time I ever saw Randal in person was one month after Renee died. I was leaving a meeting, walking down the sidewalk with Angelo. As soon as I saw Randal, I knew who he was. We had his image from the background check, but I would have recognized him anyway. He looked just like Renee. Average height. Thin. Bright blonde hair. Pale blue eyes. The only difference is that he didn¡¯t look strung out, he just looked crazy.

    ¡°He started shouting about how I killed his sister. How I gave her all that money knowing she¡¯d use it to kill herself with drugs. He said I stole her baby and that she couldn¡¯t live with the depression. I didn¡¯t point out that she had never, not once, tried to see Annie. Not one attempt to call. Not one letter. But I didn¡¯t say anything to Randal. I just called the cops and got a restraining order.¡±

    ¡°You said the first time you saw him. Was there a second?¡± I ask, already dreading the answer.

    ¡°The second time I saw Randal, I was sprinting across a parking lot trying to reach him before he disappeared with my daughter.¡±

    I suck in a breath.

    Listening to Vincent tell me the story of Annie¡¯s near kidnapping has me swallowing down the urge to vomit. His tone is cool, but I can see that the retelling is costing him. If he hadn¡¯t reached her in time¡­ No. I can¡¯t even think about that. I¡¯m sure Vincent has yed that scenario endless times; I don¡¯t need to add to his torment.

    ¡°They never caught him?¡± I ask, not believing it.

    ¡°No.¡± I watch as Vincent¡¯s fists clench on his desk. ¡°I don¡¯t know how he did it, but he slipped away. I knew him well enough by then. Knew he¡¯d be monitoring the police stations, the information going in and out. So I flooded every precinct in the state with images of him ensuring he would see it. I offered a private reward to any officer who could find him. Had him officiallybeled as a child molester. Randal might have thought he was clever enough to evade the system, but he knows what happens to perverts in jail. I had to make the risk greater than the reward.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s strangely brilliant.¡± I admit, a little in awe.

    Vincent shrugs. ¡°It was the best idea we had. After that, I moved to the apartment in the city with round-the-clock security. And when I enrolled Annie into a new school, I did it with thest name Mazz. I know it¡¯s not enough to stop him, but I couldn¡¯t just put her back out there without doing something.¡±

    My heart drops. ¡°And now I¡¯m trying to take her public. Oh god, Vincent. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°No, it¡¯s the right call. It was only a matter of time. You were right on that. And I can¡¯t force Annie to live her whole life in hiding. As much as I hate to admit it, she¡¯s growing up. Before I know it, she¡¯ll be wanting to date and drive a car. She¡¯s already trying to get on every goddamn social media tform. Nothing short ofmitting multiple felonies will keep her hidden anymore.¡±

    I almostugh at the terrified look on his face. Heaven help whoever tries to date this man¡¯s daughter. ¡°You¡¯re a good father, Vincent. She knows that you love her. That¡¯s the most important thing you can give her. She trusts you, and she¡¯lle to you when she needs to.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s eyes show so much worry. So much turmoil. ¡°Some days I feel like I know all the answers. And some days I feel like I¡¯m fucking it all up.¡±

    I stand and round the desk.

    At my approach, he pushes back from his desk. Vincent knows what I¡¯m about to do and wees me with literal arms open.

    Settling myself onto hisp, I twist enough so I can wrap my arms around his neck in a hug.

    Every interaction I have with Vincent has its own distinct feel. The lust-driven. The anger. The apology. The uncertainty. And now,fort. With our arms around each other, we melt into the embrace. Vincent didn¡¯t have to tell me about Renee. About Randal. About his fears of failure. But he did. And that shows a level of trust that I wasn¡¯t expecting from him. It doesn¡¯t make everything perfect between us. And even with my forgiveness of his previous dickish behavior, it doesn¡¯ty out any expectations for what our rtionship is going to look like. I don¡¯t even know if what we have can be called a rtionship.

    Vincent loosens his hold on me and leans back. His eyes search mine, like he¡¯s trying to find the right words to tell me. But I don¡¯t want to hear them. Not now. Not when I don¡¯t know what the oue of his statement might be. So instead of listening, I lean in and press my lips to his.

    As soon as our mouths meet, I feel a warmth spread throughout my body. This might be the first time I¡¯ve initiated a kiss with Vincent. And I like the powerful feeling it gives me. From my perch on hisp, we¡¯re eye to eye. Mouth to mouth.

    I lean into the contact and a sound of contentment rolls around in my chest.

    Not one to give up control easily, Vincent opens his mouth, invading mine with a sweep of his tongue. His beard scratching the soft skin around my lips, heightening my senses.

    Vincent breaks the kiss, moving his attention to my neck. Tipping my head back, I allow him free reign. When his tongue licks my cleavage, I clench my hands into fist. Only then do I realize that my hands are gripping his hair. I almost let go before I remember this is Vincent. He likes it a little rough. So I pull on his hair again. A little harder. The feel of his tongue on my chest turns into scraping teeth. And his hands hold my hips still as he grinds up against my ass. His hardness is so close to where I want him. I groan and wiggle against his erection.

    A knock at the door startles me out of my lustful haze. I try to pull back, but Vincent wraps his arms around my waist keeping me in ce.

    A glint in Vincent¡¯s eyes tells me exactly what he¡¯s going to do before he does it.

    ¡°Come in.¡± Vincent calls out in his serious business tone.

    My head jerks over and I watch the door click open. Brent makes it one step into Vincent¡¯s office before he raises his gaze and sees us.

    Brent stops so suddenly, he almost trips. ¡°Oh, um, uh, sorry.¡± His eyes are darting all over the ce, but I don¡¯t miss how they linger on our entangled bodies. ¡°I thought you said toe in.¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± Vincent replies as though I¡¯m not sitting on hisp, his hard-on still prodding me between my butt cheeks.

    ¡°Oh, well¡­¡± Brent clears his throat, a blush clear on his face. ¡°Your next meeting is in 5. They¡¯re all set up in conference room B when you¡¯re ready.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±

    Brent spins on his heels and hurriedly shuts the door behind him.

    ¡°You are such a jerk.¡± I say, humor in my voice, as I smack Vincent¡¯s chest.

    The smirk he gives me is too adorable to ignore. Leaning forward I kiss him once more. A simple press of my lips to his. When I pull away, I watch his smirk turn into a full-blown smile. Rolling my eyes, I push off hisp.

    Standing back, I take in Vincent¡¯s ruffled look. He looks freshly fucked.

    ¡°What?¡± He asks, pulling his suit jacket back on.

    I shake my head. ¡°You should sell calendars. Looking all sexed up like that, you could make another million.¡±

    ¡°Why Miss rk, are you saying that you find me attractive?¡± He asks, reaching out for me.

    I smack his hands away as I go up on my tiptoes to help him smooth out his hair. ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± Before retracing my hand, I pinch his nipple.

    ¡°Mmm, keep doing that and I¡¯ll have to go to my meeting with tented pants.¡±

    ¡°Idiot.¡± Iugh out the insult as I pull open the door.

    A momentter, Vincent strides out of his office with his usual straight-backed confidence.

    In my mind, I had broken him into two categories. Mr. Mazzanti the ruthless CEO and Vincent the father. But I¡¯m realizing that there are so many moreyers to him. And it scares me, because the sum of his parts is a man that I could easily fall in love with. A man I might already be halfway in love with.

    Brent¡¯s grumbling voice pulls my attention away from Vincent¡¯s retreating form.

    He¡¯s sitting with his chair pulled in so far his stomach is pressed into the edge of the desk.

    ¡°Why are you sitting so weird?¡± I ask with a tilt of my head.

    ¡°It¡¯s your fault. You and Mr. Hot-and-Moody.¡± He nces around then shifts and reaches below the desk to adjust himself.

    My brain is still a little slow because it takes me a moment to realize that our little show had quite the effect on Brent.

    A loudugh bursts out of me and the re Brent gives me only has meughing harder.

    Walking away from Vincent¡¯s office, I feel lighter than I have in days.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 36

    ¡°A

    ll right, that¡¯s it. Just rx.¡± The man¡¯s voice oozes around the room.

    With my eyes shut,ying t on my back, I do as he says.

    ¡°Now give me one more deep inhale, in through your nose. Hold for three¡­ Exhale.¡± There¡¯s a pause before the man ps. ¡°Great job everyone! You should be proud of the work you put in today. Hopefully, you¡¯ll be walking out of here with your muscles warm and loose.¡±

    ¡°I better be walking out of here bow-legged.¡± Jessica snickers from her spot next to me.

    Stillying down, I roll my head to the side to look at her. ¡°Girl, I¡¯ll riot if you don¡¯t get some dick after that. There¡¯s no way I went through that hell for nothing.¡±

    She widens her eyes at me. ¡°Oh my god, right! I thought yoga was supposed to be rxing. I feel like I just ran a mile.¡± At myugh she shrugs. ¡°What? A mile is far.¡±

    As we start to clean up our spaces, I see the instructor make his way over. It was clear how smitten they were with each other the moment we entered the studio. I bite back a smirk as I watch him whisper something into Jessica¡¯s ear causing her to giggle. I¡¯m not at all surprised when Jess tells me she¡¯s going to hang back and talk with Mr. Yoga for a few minutes.

    Honestly, I¡¯m happy she¡¯s staying behind. Not only for her sake (because he really is cute), but also for mine. Jess is way too perceptive, and I¡¯m sure it wouldn¡¯t take her long to realize that something was on my mind. Specifically: Vincent.

    Wishing her luck, I sling my little duffle over my shoulder and head out. It¡¯s only 2:00, but I already told the team at Mazzanti Enterprises that I¡¯d be working the rest of the day from home. So when I get outside, I turn away from the office and start the short walk to my apartment.

    Short walk is key, because ¨C damn ¨C I feel out of shape. After slumping against the elevator wall on the way up to my floor, I nearly have to drag my legs to make them walk again. I¡¯m so tired with exhaustion that I don¡¯t even have the energy to lift my bag off my shoulder as I unlock my door and shuffle inside.

    With as little effort as possible, I turn the deadbolt behind me and slide the security chain into ce.

    With the shower calling my name, I make it all the way across the living room, to the mouth of the hallway, before I realize that something is wrong. Captain hasn¡¯t greeted me. He always greets me at the door. Always.

    I pause and look around, worry instantly filling my limbs.

    Sweeping my eyes across the living room, I spot him on his window perch. Hunched over. Fur puffed up. Eyes wide open.

    The worry turning inside me slowly forms into fear.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong buddy¡­¡± I whisper.

    A creak at the end of the hallway answers me.

    In what feels like slow motion, I turn my head toward the sound to see a man stepping out of my bedroom.

    For a frozen moment, we stare at each other.

    He looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He¡¯s several yards away, but even from here I can clearly make out the scary-as-fuck look in his eyes. It¡¯s a look of menace, and I have no doubt that this man means me harm.

    He takes a step towards me.

    That small action res my fear into full blooded terror.

    My fight or flight reaction kicks in and I dart forward. Two quick steps and I¡¯m inside the guest room. I m the door and lock the handle. The small click does little to make me feel safe. I¡¯m trapped in here, but I never would have made it back through the front door in time.

    The handle rattles. And I scream.

    I rush to the small dresser and with strength I didn¡¯t think I had; I shove it in front of the door.

    A thud against the door pulls a whimper from my throat. The dresser won¡¯t be heavy enough to hold the door. I drop down, pressing my back against the drawers, hoping that my added weight will be enough to keep him out.

    The door rattles again, followed by a louder thud that I can feel through the dresser. I picture him on the other side trying to force the door open and my breathing gets even more rapid. I don¡¯t know if he has a weapon. Could he shoot down the door? Could a bullet go through the door and the dresser and hit me?

    ¡°I¡¯m calling the police!¡± I try to shout, but my voice breaks.

    I shut my eyes and swallow.

    ¡°I¡¯m calling the police!¡± This time the shoutes out loud enough that I¡¯m sure he can hear me.

    With shaking hands, I pull my phone out of my duffle. I silently thank myself for not dropping the bag when I came in the door.

    It takes me two tries to dial.

    ¡°911, what¡¯s your emergency?¡± A calm woman asks.

    ¡°Someone is in my house! They broke in!¡± My breaths areing in pants and it¡¯s hard to speak.

    ¡°What¡¯s your address?¡±

    My muscle memory kicks in and I tell her my address, even though my brain can hardly form a thought.

    ¡°Police are on the way. Please stay on the phone with me. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°S¡­ Sasha rk.¡±

    ¡°Is anyone else in the home with you?¡± She asks.

    ¡°No.¡± I shake my head. Then I remember. ¡°My cat! Oh god, what if he hurts my cat!¡±

    ¡°Try to stay calm, Miss rk.¡±

    ¡°But what if he takes Captain?¡± I cry.

    The woman¡¯s voice remains steady. ¡°Have you ever tried to pick up a cat that doesn¡¯t want to be grabbed?¡±

    I almostugh but it turns into a choked sob. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Your cat will be okay. The police are almost there. Where are you in the apartment? Are you secure?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in the guest room. Um, the first door down the hallway.¡± I pause a second and try to listen. ¡°I can¡¯t hear him. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s still here.¡±

    ¡°Just stay where you are. The police will announce themselves and let you know when toe out.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re doing a great job. The officers will be there any moment.¡±

    As soon as she says it, I hear loud voices from inside my apartment. ¡°Minneapolis Police!¡±

    I can¡¯t make out what they say after that since my ears are buzzing.

    ¡°Miss rk, the police are there now.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Yes, I hear them.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m going to hang up now. They will help you.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.¡± I don¡¯t even realize that I¡¯m crying until I see the tears hit the screen as I try to hang up the call.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 37

    I¡¯m sitting on my couch, talking through the details of my intruder for about the fourth time, when it happens.

    All was quiet, and then it wasn¡¯t. The sudden shouting outside my door has me jumping off my seat. The pair of detectives I¡¯d been talking to rush past me to the door. They¡¯d told me there was another officer out in the hallway and it sounds like he¡¯s arguing with someone. Or multiple someone¡¯s.

    ¡°Miss, stay back while we handle this.¡± One of the detectives says before reaching for the door handle.

    Not needing to be told twice, I back myself into the far corner.

    My heart is racing. How can I be so afraid, in my own home, surrounded by police? I clutch my hands together and press them against my trembling lips. I know I¡¯m being a chicken. I know I¡¯m safe now. But¡­ I close my eyes as I hear my front door open.

    It can¡¯t be the same guy. The officer in the hallway wouldn¡¯t be arguing with him, he¡¯d arrest him. Unless I didn¡¯t describe him well? Or what if he had an aplice that I didn¡¯t see?

    ¡°Where is she!?¡± Vincent¡¯s booming voice has my eyes flying open.

    The detectives are trying to hold him back as he pushes through the doorway. He looks furious. And terrified.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I can barely make out my own voice, but he hears me.

    His gaze whips to mine and the emotion that sweeps through me is nearly enough to have me sliding to the floor.

    His features soften. ¡°Sasha. Sweetheart.¡±

    The cops seem to realize that Vincent isn¡¯t a danger to me, and they let him go. The second he¡¯s free, he strides towards me. I want to go to him, but I can¡¯t seem to move from my spot in the corner.

    ¡°Baby, are you alright?¡± His tone is gentle.

    Am I? I¡¯m not sure, but I nod anyway.

    And then he¡¯s there. Pulling me into a hug that has me breaking all over again. With one hand on the back of my head, he cradles me against his body as I shake through hupping sobs.

    ¡°Shh. You¡¯re okay.¡± He repeats that over and over, lips pressed into my hair.

    His touch and smell and heat is thefort I didn¡¯t know I needed.

    He doesn¡¯t let me go. He just lets me cry.

    I don¡¯t know how long we stay like this. But the longer I lean on him, the more I start to worry about what will happen when he steps away. Like really steps away. It might be today. Or tomorrow. Or next month. But I know it will happen. Because somehow Vincent has be my rock. My touchstone. My center. But I¡¯m not that for him. So eventually he¡¯ll step away, and when he does, it will break me. It will break me more than I know how to handle.

    My eyes squeeze shut even harder. I shouldn¡¯t be thinking about this right now. I¡¯m already scared and overwhelmed. But it¡¯s that surge of emotion that finally has me opening my eyes to what I need to do. Until Vincent decides what he wants from us, I need to distance myself.

    Stepping back, I put the space I need between us.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m okay.¡± I use my palm to wipe at my cheeks.

    Vincent grips my chin and tips my head up. ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry.¡± His other hand brushes back a lock of hair that fell across my face. ¡°Are you hurt?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°No. I¡¯m fine. Really.¡±

    He watches me, as if he can sense the lie. Finally, he nods his head before pressing a kiss to my lips. ¡°I need to talk to the officers.¡±

    Watching Vincent walk back across the room, I see that there are even more people in my apartment now. The same two detectives as before, plus a third officer. Probably the hallway guy. I recognize the hulk of a man known as Angelo and then two more men who look like they live off protein shakes and testosterone. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen them before, but I¡¯d bet that they¡¯re part of the Mazzanti security team. What they¡¯re doing here, I have no idea. I don¡¯t even know how Vincent found out about my break-in.

    Angelo must have smoothed things over while I was crying into Vincent¡¯s tailored shirt, because all the cops seem very calm, openly talking to Vincent.

    I step closer so I can listen to what Vincent is saying.

    ¡°It¡¯s got to be Randal Smith¡­¡±

    Randal? My brain takes a beat to ce the name before it alles crashing down around me. That was Randal? As in Annie¡¯s attempted kidnapper. Brother to the dead Renee. Randal.

    Why was he here? What would he want with me? How did he find me?

    Vincent is still talking to the police. ¡°I¡¯ll have Angelo send over our file and connect you with the detectives that worked with us before. I have a restraining order on him regarding myself, my daughter, and any of my properties. I¡¯ll be adding Sasha to that list until this is resolved.¡± Vincent is slowly losing hisposure as he continues talking. The rage he¡¯s been suppressing is taking over. ¡°I don¡¯t know how the fuck he found out about my connection to Sasha, but he must be close. Must¡¯ve been tailing me. That¡¯s the only way.¡±

    A shiver runs down my spine. That creepy feeling I kept getting on the street¡­ Someone was watching me.

    Vincent turns his ire onto the two security guys I don¡¯t know. ¡°This will not fucking happen again. Do you understand me? This piece of shit got into her apartment! He found her and nearly fucking had her! You two will be trading off 12-hour shifts. I don¡¯t want Sasha to go anywhere alone. You¡¯ll stick to her like fucking glue.¡±

    Wait, what? I can¡¯t have bodyguards.

    I step closer. ¡°Um, what?¡±

    Vincent ignores me. ¡°I want a car parked outside at all times. Here. The office. Wherever. No more walking. Angelo, clear it with the building. If they give you any shit, I¡¯ll just buy the goddamn building.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t need¡­¡± I try to break into the conversation, but no one hears me.

    My fear and shock start to morph into anger. I relish it. Vincent always thinks he can just do whatever he wants. That he can bulldoze his way into my life and toss out demands as he sees fit.

    ¡°Actually, fuck the 12-hour shifts.¡± Vincent turns to the bigger of the two goons. ¡°Eric, I want you with her full-time until Randal is dealt with. Square your shit away because starting tomorrow morning you¡¯re not letting her out of your sight. You¡¯ll go with her to all her meetings, lunches, whatever. I don¡¯t fucking care what it is, you go with. And get her moved to a new office, up on my floor. They¡¯re bigger so you can fit in there with her. and you¡¯ll be closer to me and Angelo.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I shout the word, fed up with them pretending like I¡¯m not here. Like this isn¡¯t my life they¡¯re talking about.

    Vincent slowly turns to face me. ¡°No?¡± His ire filling the air between us.

    I swallow. ¡°I can¡¯t have a freaking bodyguard.¡±

    ¡°Why the hell not?¡± He asks, stepping closer.

    ¡°Because.¡± At myme response he cocks an eyebrow. That does it. I snap. All the insecurity, all the uncertaintyes pouring out. ¡°I can¡¯t have a bodyguard because I have no way to exin it. What am I supposed to say to my coworkers to exin this giant scary man following me around everywhere? How am I supposed to exin that? I tell Cheryl¡­ what? That I got involved with you and now I¡¯m in danger? Tell her that Vincent Mazzanti is providing me with personal security? I can¡¯t exin that. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re even dating. Are we? I¡¯m not actually your girlfriend. I¡¯m not your anything. And I can¡¯t even tell them that we¡¯re just fucking because you¡¯re a client! Or have you forgotten that little detail? If I tell anybody about this I¡¯ll lose my job. And my job is all I have!¡±

    Vincent¡¯s eyes never leave mine and when I finish, I watch his jaw clench as he takes a step towards me. The fire rolling off him has me stepping back.

    His voice is low and lethal. ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t know what the hell we are. I don¡¯t know what to call this. But you? You¡¯re mine. You hear that, sweetheart? You¡¯re fucking mine. And I protect what¡¯s mine. So, find a way to deal with it.¡±

    The way he says mine sends a chill down my spine. And an entirely inappropriate wave of lust tightens my core.

    Vincent takes one more step towards me and I step back.

    Without breaking eye contact with me he shouts amand to the room. ¡°Get out.¡±

    I don¡¯t dare look away. Like prey watching a predator, I can¡¯t risk losing sight of him. But I hear the exodus.

    My breath ising quicker. I¡¯m not sure where this is going, but we¡¯re almost there.

    When the door shuts and the apartment goes quiet, Vincent takes another stalking step towards me.

    His voice is low. Dangerously soft. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me to step back. Or step away. Or to exin what the fuck I¡¯m feeling because none of that will happen. But for once, in your stubborn life, just do what I fucking say.¡±

    I take one more step back, bumping into the dining table.

    He¡¯s so close to the edge. Teetering. And I want to see him lose control.

    Keeping eye contact, I tip my head up in challenge. ¡°Make me.¡±

    His eyes sh with challenge. Then all at once, he detonates.

    Vincent moves so quickly; I barely register that he¡¯s closed the distance between us. A growles from deep in his chest. My natural instincts cause my hands to fly up. As if that would stop him now. It doesn¡¯t.

    With a rough tug on my arm, Vincent spins me around. His grip at the base of my neck shoves me down until I¡¯m bent over my dining room table. My handsnd on loose puzzle pieces and slide across the surface. With arge palm between my shoulder des, Vincent applies pressure until my chest is pressed against the wooden surface.

    A smack sounds from behind me, immediately followed by a sharp sting on my butt cheek. I cry out. More from shock than from pain.

    Vincent presses himself against my ass and I can feel his cock hardening. When he spanks me again, my thighs clench. I swallow a groan. I¡¯m not supposed to like this.

    His breath on the back of my neck distracts me from the burn still warming my behind.

    Vincent¡¯s voicees out as a rumble. ¡°You¡¯re going to do what I tell you to do, sweetheart. Or so help me god, I will smack your ass red until you learn to listen.¡±

    Keeping his hand on my back, holding me still, he reaches down with the other and yanks down on my leggings. I¡¯m still dressed in my yoga clothes, and my pants get caught just below my hips. I¡¯m waiting to feel him reach between my legs, so I yelp when his palm ps against my now bare skin.

    I don¡¯t have time to think about my reaction to being spanked, because I¡¯m pulled under a new wave of sensation when one of Vincent¡¯s long fingers slides straight into my pussy. I¡¯m so turned on, so wet, that there¡¯s no resistance.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± Vincent groans. ¡°You¡¯re fucking soaked.¡±

    His finger slides out and I let out a sound that can only be described as a whine.

    When I hear the sound of a zipper, my whine turns into a plea.

    I try to lean back into him, but his hand on my back just presses me harder into the table.

    I feel the tip of his cock to rub against my entrance. ¡°Vincent.¡± I whisper his name.

    ¡°Say you¡¯re mine.¡± He barks.

    ¡°Please.¡± I moan in response.

    He ps my ass again over my disobedience. The tingling is almost too much to handle.

    ¡°Say you¡¯re mine!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m yo¡­¡±

    My deration gets cut off as he thrusts into me. His full length filling me in one quick motion. We both shout out at the intensity. My pussy clenching around him so hard I feel like I mighte any second.

    ¡°Say it.¡± His voice is strained but he doesn¡¯t wait before he starts pounding into me.

    ¡°I¡¯m yours.¡± I pant. ¡°I¡¯m yours, Vincent. All¡­ yours.¡±

    His hand on my back slips around to my throat. With just the right amount of pressure, he pulls me to standing. His hips never stop their unforgiving pace. The sound of skin on skin. The feel of his hips striking my ass with each thrust. The hard length of him pulling nearly all the way out each time. It¡¯s too much. My vision is hazy. My pleasure reaches an all-time high that I¡¯m almost afraid to fall from.

    Vincent¡¯s free hand drags around my side and down my belly to find my clit. Circling it. But not touching me where I need him.

    ¡°Tell me you understand. Tell me you¡¯ll do what I say. Tell me and I¡¯ll let youe.¡±

    Holy. Shit.

    My knees start shaking. This Vincent is the Devil I¡¯ve always imagined him to be. And I fucking love it.

    Arching into him, I admit the truth. ¡°I¡¯d do anything for you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Sweetheart. Now let me feel youe on my bare cock.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s teeth bite down on my neck the moment his fingers pinch my clit. I explode. The admission that he¡¯s not using a condom somehow makes mee even harder.

    With my body shaking, Vincent¡¯s hand leaves my throat and his arm circles around my chest. Holding me up as he ms into me once more. The groan that leaves him vibrates through my body, stretching out the orgasm that¡¯s still rolling through me.

    Holding me in ce, we somehow stay standing. Vincent wrapped around me, still inside me. His release running down my thighs.

    ¡°You¡¯re staying with me tonight.¡± Vincent says with his mouth against my neck. ¡°You¡¯re getting a bodyguard.¡±

    With a swallow to settle my pulse, I whisper, ¡°Okay.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 38

    ¡°Sasha!¡± Annie¡¯s excited greeting wees me as we enter Vincent¡¯s apartment.

    The ride over here was just long enough for thest of the fight to drain out of me, and for my rational brain to fully recognize the danger I was in. I had halfheartedly listened to Vincent as he spent the drive on the phone discussing me, my safety, and the details of my break-in, but after a few minutes I tuned him out. I didn¡¯t need any reminders about what happened and how close I¡¯de to harm.

    I already know that I¡¯ll picture that creepy man every time I shut my eyes. I don¡¯t want to think about how he was in my bedroom, probably touching my things. I couldn¡¯t even get myself to go into my room alone to pack my bag. I made Vincente with me.

    While packing I had suddenly realized that I couldn¡¯t leave Captain alone in the apartment. It¡¯s one thing for me to leave him home alone to chill for a night but having a crew of strangers in my apartment setting up a new security system would probably give him anxiety. Luckily, my 80-year-old neighbor Mrs. Peterson was home, and she¡¯s always willing to watch Captain if I have to go out of town. I think she was extra willing tonight, since she stood ck jawed staring at Vincent while he carried Captain¡¯s things into her apartment. Vincent had looked angry, recently fucked, and hot as hell. The wink she gave me before closing her door told me she agreed.

    Ugh, Vincent. My Devil in Shining Armor. I know he¡¯s right. It¡¯s shockingly clear that I need the protection. I just have to ept it. ept him. With how much I now know about his past, I should be more understanding. Yeah ¨C he acted like a total caveman, but he has a good reason. First Randal tried to take Annie, and now Randal¡¯s broken into my apartment. To take me or hurt me, I don¡¯t know. But I¡¯m sure this is giving Vincent all sorts of shbacks. Tonight was yet another close call. Another person in his life, targeted by the brother of his dead baby mama. Only this time Vincent didn¡¯t get to chase off the bad guy himself. He wasn¡¯t even there.

    I haven¡¯t asked how he found out about the break-in. I probably don¡¯t want to know. Since he showed up less than an hour after the police did, I¡¯m guessing he either had someone watching me or someone monitoring the police. It might be nudging him into stalker territory, but I¡¯m too grateful for his presence to be worried about that.

    Even now, a couple hours after the actual incident, he still hasn¡¯t settled down. I¡¯m sure that most of the worry he¡¯s feeling is directed at his daughter. This break in proves that Randal is closer than anyone thought. That he hasn¡¯t given up his obsession.

    ¡°Hi Annie.¡± I say with a genuine smile, walking towards the kitchen where she¡¯s perched at the ind. ¡°How¡¯ve you been feeling?¡±

    She shrugs. ¡°Fine. The cramps are mostly gone now.¡± She nces over to Vincent, who¡¯s still talking quietly on the phone. ¡°Dad keeps treating me like I¡¯m dying. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m sick, it¡¯s just puberty.¡±

    She rolls her eyes and augh bubbles out of me. ¡°Men are like that. They don¡¯t know what to do with us most of the time anyway, but add in period talk and they lose allmon sense.¡±

    ¡°So true.¡± She agrees. ¡°Are you here for dinner?¡±

    Oh, right. I¡¯m not sure what Vincent wants me to say about why I¡¯m here. Why I¡¯m staying over on a random weeknight. We didn¡¯t discuss it.

    ¡°Yeah, Princess.¡± Vincent says, saving me from answering. ¡°Sasha will be staying here tonight. They¡¯re putting a new security system in her apartment, so she had to clear out for the night.¡±

    He pulls Annie into a hug. This is more than the normal hug you¡¯d give your child in greeting. Vincent is clearly soothing himself, embracing his daughter, making sure she¡¯s real.. That she¡¯s safe. I should look away, but I don¡¯t.

    Annie starts to squirm, trying to push out of his reach. ¡°Oh my god, dad. Get a grip.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± He chuckles, rocking her back and forth.

    ¡°Help!¡± Annie fake pleads.

    ¡°Vincent, release my granddaughter before you crush her.¡± Marie¡¯s voice startles me and my whole body jolts. My reaction doesn¡¯t go unnoticed, and I see the frown that passes over her face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry dear, I didn¡¯t mean to sneak up on you.¡±

    Before I can y it off, she¡¯s pulling me into an embrace. Marie¡¯s about my height with a slender build. Her ck hair is streaked with grey and the arms around me are filled with the Mazzanti strength I¡¯m bing familiar with. We¡¯ve only met briefly once before, in this same kitchen, during my walk of shame, but I don¡¯t fight the hug. Instead, I wrap my arms around her in return. Leaning in as though it isn¡¯t totally weird for me to cling to Vincent¡¯s mom.

    Her embrace is so maternal. So weing. So motherly, that a sudden wave of emotion swamps me. Even if I tried to fight the tears building in my eyes, I wouldn¡¯t be sessful, so I don¡¯t bother. I let them out.

    She must feel the tremor run through my body because she squeezes me tighter. ¡°It¡¯s okay, dear. Let it out.¡± She whispers.

    I haven¡¯t had a hug from a mother figure since my mom died. I know she¡¯s not mine to keep, but her touch is so open. She¡¯s so epting. It makes my throat tighten up even more.

    This round of crying isn¡¯t the sobbing mess I treated Vincent to. This time my tears are more subdued. More sad. But the action is still cathartic, and I get control of myself after just a few moments.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I apologize embarrassingly. ¡°You and Annie seem to have a spell over me. Being near you guys makes me miss my mom more than normal.¡±

    With that admission, Marie gives her own little sniff in response.

    As we pull away, wiping at our eyes, I hear Annie mumbling from across the kitchen. ¡°What is wrong with everyone today?¡±

    Her bewildered expression is enough to break the tension brewing in the air.

    ¡°Nothing. Nothing.¡± Marie says with a wave of her hand. ¡°Thesagna is almost done. Why don¡¯t we set the table and eat like civilized humans for once?¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 39

    ¡°Can we watch a movie?¡± Annie asks her dad, blinking her eyes innocently.

    Vincent nces at the clock. ¡°Pick a TV show instead. It¡¯s gettingte.¡±

    Annie huffs but still agrees and I watch her walk to the living area where she drops into one of therge armchairs.

    Dinner with Vincent and his family was so much more wonderful than I imagined it could be. Clearly Marie knew the story behind why I was there, and she did a great job of carrying the conversation. She took her leave after dinner, but ¨C seeing the three of them together ¨C I felt like I got a view of Vincent¡¯s home life for the past 11 years. And I understand now, more than ever, why he kept his family so secret. Why he did his best to keep people, women, hook-ups, away from his home. Away from his daughter.

    And even though he can¡¯t exactly verbalize how he feels about me, I¡¯m starting to realize that he really does care. He¡¯s been pretty shitty at showing it, but the fact that he¡¯s letting me see this side of him says a lot. Perhaps it¡¯s possible, maybe, that he cares about me as much as I care about him.

    Vincent¡¯s warm palm on my back has my eyes refocusing on the room in front of me. ¡°Come watch some ridiculous TV with us. It¡¯ll help you unwind.¡±

    I nod.

    I was pretty quiet throughout our meal, and Annie gave me more than one sideways nce. So if I hid away in Vincent¡¯s room it would only call more attention to my morose mood.

    With Annie sprawled out in one of the armchairs, I im one corner of the couch. The TV is already on, the opening scene of a si I don¡¯t recognize ying on the screen.

    Leaning my head on the armrest, I watch the show with one ear listening to Vincent as he walks around the apartment, turning off most of the lights. The sound of ice striking ss has my mind wandering to the first time I was here. The pink tennis shoes. The realization that Vincent was so much more than I originally thought. The bedroom. The icy cold kisses. The night spent calling out his name.

    ¡°Share with me.¡± Vincent¡¯s voice warns me of his presence a moment before I feel the couch dip beside me.

    He¡¯s left no space between us. And as I sit up to take the ss from his hands, our sides press into each other. Thankfully, he¡¯s added something that tastes like ginger ale to the alcohol this time. I take a second sip. Then a third. Vincent uses his arm around me to guide my head onto his shoulder before he takes the ss back, downing the rest of the drink.

    The press of Vincent¡¯s lips to my temple is thest thing I feel before I fall asleep.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 40

    My ringtone cuts into my dream, and I¡¯ve never been more grateful.

    I¡¯d been stuck, still and silent, standing in my hallway. Unable to move as Nightmare Randal slowly approached. Only ¨C instead of empty hands ¨C he had an armful of hissing cats. I blink away the image as the ringing continues.

    I try to roll towards the sound, but a strong arm around my waist holds me in ce.

    ¡°Leave it.¡± Vincent¡¯s voice murmurs into my ear. Even with the nightmare nipping at my heels, the sound of his voice sends heat throughout my body.

    I don¡¯t remembering to bed. I remember the couch. The drink. And then nothing. With a small wiggle I feel that I¡¯m still in the yoga pants and sweater I changed into beforeing to Vincent¡¯s. At least I wore somethingfortablest night, so he wasn¡¯t forced to strip my unconscious form.

    With a sigh, I rx back into the warm body that¡¯s half draped over me. Vincent hums in approval and nuzzles into my neck. He¡¯s the big spoon to my little spoon, and even though he¡¯s half asleep I can feel that part of him is wide awake.

    I¡¯m debating between letting sleep reim me and pressing my ass back against his erection when my phone rings again.

    Proving he wasn¡¯t as asleep as I thought, Vincent is up and reaching over me in a blink. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand.

    There¡¯s a small amount of light seeping in from around the curtains so I can tell it¡¯s morning, but just barely. I can¡¯t imagine who would be calling me this early.

    It hits me at the same time Vincent reads the caller ID.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± He breathes out. ¡°It¡¯s your brother.¡±

    I close my eyes and hold my hand out for the phone. This is not going to be a fun conversation.

    ¡°Hello, John.¡±

    My eyes snap open when I hear Vincent answer the phone.

    Oh, no.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 41

    The silence on the other end of the line onlysts for one heartbeat. ¡°Vincent Mazzanti.¡± He says my name like it¡¯s the most distasteful thing to evere out of his mouth.

    I can¡¯t me him. ¡°Special Agent rk.¡±

    ¡°So, you know who I am. And what I do.¡±

    I¡¯ve seen his photograph, both from Sasha¡¯s background check and from her apartment, and John¡¯s voice is exactly how I imagined. Hard. Low. As serious as theye. If I were dirty, he¡¯s the type of agent I would not want chasing me.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I reply.

    ¡°You are going to tell me everything you know about that piece of shit Randal Smith. I know it¡¯s your fault that he went after Sasha. My Sasha. My fucking baby sister.¡±

    I grit my teeth at his use of my, but I know he¡¯s right. He¡¯s right about this being my fault. He¡¯s right about Sasha being his. She is, just in a different way than how she¡¯s mine.

    John¡¯s voice gets colder. ¡°And I promise you ¨C if any harmes to Sasha¡­ A scratch. A bump. A single goddamn bruise. I will bury you. I¡¯ll bury you so deep, with my bare fucking hands, that no one will ever find you. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± My voice isn¡¯t ice, it¡¯s fire. Because I do understand. Because I¡¯ll rip my own heart out if any harmes to her.

    ¡°Good. Now talk.¡±

    A nce at Sasha tells me that she can hear everything that John has said. And from the look in her eyes, I know she won¡¯t be going back to sleep. I pull the phone away from my face and press a soft kiss to her parted lips.

    ¡°Go make me some coffee, sweetheart.¡± I wink then slide out of the bed.

    She looks a little incredulous at my demand, which is exactly what I wanted. Plus, it will give her a task to focus on. And I have a feeling that my talk with John won¡¯t be quick.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 42

    What on earth could they still be talking about? I had Vincent¡¯s dumb coffee ready 20 minutes ago. Then I paced around the kitchen. Then I tried to eavesdrop outside of Vincent¡¯s office door. Tried being the keywork. He must¡¯ve had that room soundproofed because I couldn¡¯t make out a single word that was being said.

    With my second cup of coffee in hand, I give up and drop onto the couch. I don¡¯t even have my phone to entertain me, since Vincent is using it to talk to John. About me. About what happened. About my safety.

    I groan and drop my head back against the cushion. I don¡¯t know if I shouldugh or cry. My brother¡¯s overprotective nature was nearly intolerable before all this happened. Now? Now he¡¯s going to be impossible. Between the two of them, I¡¯ll never be allowed to do anything ever again.

    Hearing soft foot falls pad through the room, I lift my head in time to see Annie climb onto the couch with me.

    ¡°Good morning.¡± I smile at her, with her bed hair and fuzzy yellow robe. ¡°Sleep well?¡±

    Annie shrugs. Something passes over her face and I¡¯m not sure if she¡¯s still tired or if she wants to say something, so I stay quiet.

    When she opens her mouth, I¡¯m not at all prepared. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about what happened to you. Uncle Randal is sick, and he needs help.¡±

    Her words take me so off guard I nearly drop my mug. ¡°Oh, um¡­¡± I have no idea what to say. I thought she didn¡¯t know about yesterday.

    Answering my unasked question, she shrugs again. ¡°I overhead grandma on the phone with dad before you guys got home. I hadn¡¯t meant to listen, but when I heard grandma say Uncle Randal¡¯s name, I just sort of froze. They never talk about him.¡± She takes a deep breath. ¡°He tried to take me once.¡±

    I set my drink on the coffee table then turn to face Annie fully. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that happened to you. Do you want to tell me about it?¡±

    Annie gives me another shrug, this one smaller than the others, before she scoots a little closer and recounts the story. It¡¯s the same story Vincent already told me. The facts are the same. But the details are less in Annie¡¯s version, as she jumps through each moment quickly. Her emotions are under control, but hearing it is so much worse this time. It¡¯s so much more heart wrenchinging from a child¡¯s perspective.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 43

    Buttoning my shirt, I enter the living room expecting to see Annie and Sasha in the kitchen. After my call with John, I figured I¡¯d take a quick shower and the girls would entertain themselves. Not seeing them at the ind, I turn and spot them on the couch. I¡¯m about to call out when Annie¡¯s words reach me.

    ¡°He tried to take me once.¡±

    I freeze. Every muscle locking in ce. My lungs refusing to fill.

    How¡­ Is she talking about Randal? She must be. But why? Why is she telling Sasha this story?

    I nearly lose my footing, when for the second time in as many days my failures overwhelm me. How am I fucking up in such epic ways? Thisst series of events presses into my mind. The call from Angelo alerting me to a reported intruder at Sasha¡¯s ce. The feeling of utter uselessness and fear as I rushed to her apartment. The sight of Sasha huddled in the corner of her own home. Her tears. The call I had to make to my mother, telling her that Randal was back. That he was right fucking here, in my goddamn city. Telling my mom to keep Annie in her sight at all times. Telling my mom to keep this from Annie. I¡¯ve done so much to keep Annie not just safe from Randal, but to keep his name away from her. Not wanting her to have this sort of reminder.

    After the kidnapping attempt, Annie went to therapy. We all did. But eventually she started doing better. No more nightmares. No more asking why he did it. And as the years passed, I made sure that his name was never said in her presence. It¡¯s not like I thought she forgot about what happened but¡­ I¡¯m a fucking idiot. Of course, she didn¡¯t forget. She was young when it happened but old enough to remember something like that. Old enough for it to affect her.

    And standing here, frozen at the edge of the room, I listen to Annie as she goes through her retelling of events. I listen, and while a little bit of me dies, the rest of me wars between blind rage and utter devastation. I let this happen. I let all of this happen.

    ¡°I was scared but once I heard dading, I knew he¡¯d save me. My dad was like a superhero. It was awesome.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Sasha¡¯s voice is a little raspy, but I can hear her smile.

    It¡¯s that smile that snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. If these two can smile right now, then I sure as hell can pull it together.

    Clearing my throat, I walk towards them. ¡°What¡¯s so hard to believe? I¡¯m basically Batman.¡±

    The matching pair of rolling eyes that greet me has the fist around my heart unclenching. Just a bit.

    I lean down and kiss Annie¡¯s messy hair. ¡°Morning, Princess.¡±

    She gives me a sheepish look. ¡°Don¡¯t be mad at Sasha, she didn¡¯t tell me about Uncle Randal breaking into her ce. I overheard grandma when she was on the phone with youst night.¡±

    I crouch down to her level. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be mad at her even if she had told you. But I shouldn¡¯t be surprised that you¡¯re such a sneaky little butt.¡±

    Annie grins. ¡°I get it from you.¡±

    My muscles rx a bit more.

    Sasha stands and ces a hand on my shoulder. ¡°I need to hop in the shower.¡± She looks at Annie. ¡°In case you leave before I¡¯m ready, I hope you have a nice day with your grandma. As for you, mister, your coffee is on the counter.¡± Sasha punctuates her statement with a flick to the back of my head, making Annie snort out augh.

    And just like that, my outlook for the day changes. My girls are okay. Truly okay.

    I pull Annie in for a hug.

    ¡°Dad, are you mad at me?¡±

    ¡°No, princess. I¡¯m not mad at you. I¡¯m upset that you had to think about it on your own all night. I wish you would¡¯ve told me.¡± I breathe out a deep sigh and pull back so I can look my daughter in the eye. ¡°And I should¡¯ve told you. I just didn¡¯t want you to worry about this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not worried. I have you to protect me.¡± The expression on her face is so pure, she means every word. ¡°And now Sasha has you, too. I know you¡¯ll keep her safe just like you did for me.¡±

    I pull her in for another hug. ¡°I¡¯m here if you want to talk about any of it. Or if you want to see Dr. Sallis again, we can do that.¡±

    Annie struggles against my hug. ¡°Dad, I¡¯m fine. For real. I¡¯m not a little kid anymore.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± I squeeze once more before releasing her. ¡°Now go get dressed; your grandma will be here any minute. She said you guys were going to be baking all day and that she¡¯ll make that egg thing you like for breakfast.¡±

    Annie tips her head back and pretends to drool. ¡°Mmmm.¡±

    I wiggle my fingers at her, like I¡¯m getting ready to tickle her sides, and that has her squealing and scampering off towards her bedroom.

    I allow myself one minute of sitting in silent reflection, before heading to the kitchen to make protein shakes for Sasha and myself. We both could use the energy boost.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 44

    Thankfully, when my mom shows up, Annie is ready to go. She reminds me three times to tell Sasha that she said goodbye. I don¡¯t miss the beaming smile that my mom has every time Annie mentions Sasha. Mom wants me to settle down, and I¡¯m sure she sees Sasha as an opportunity to make that happen. And since I¡¯ve never brought a woman to eat dinner with my family before, I¡¯m sure Mom sees it as a sign that things are getting serious between us.

    Of course, the angry iming fuck, and the things I made her say to me, was far more telling regarding the seriousness of our rtionship. But I won¡¯t be sharing any of that with my mom.

    That memory fromst night will be burned into my mind forever. Sasha¡¯s fine ass in the air, marked red from my palm, her defiant mouth turning me on even as she res my temper. The feel of her clenching around my bare cock. Fucking hell, I haven¡¯t had sex without a condom in a long-ass time. I¡¯m usually so careful, especially after the Annie surprise. But the need to im Sasha as my own was too overwhelming. We should probably have a conversation about that. Because it¡¯s absolutely going to happen again.

    Like a horny teen, I¡¯m adjusting myself when a knock sounds on the front door. As always, Eric is right on time.

    At six foot three, he¡¯s about my height. But the dude¡¯s built for intimidation. I¡¯m no slouch in the muscle department but Eric is stacked. He¡¯s not quite Angelo sized, but no one is. Dressed in ck tactical pants, ck boots, and a ck polo, he looks exactly like what he is. A giant bodyguard. The point isn¡¯t for him to be hiding in the shadows. The point is for him to be seen. Sasha isn¡¯t bait, and we don¡¯t want Randal to think of her as an easy target.

    ¡°Sir.¡± Eric greets me with a head nod.

    Eric is always strictly professional, and I¡¯m betting that it will drive Sasha crazy.

    As if summoned by my thought, Sasha appears. I¡¯m d my back is to Eric because the sight of her has my dick twitching again. Sasha strolls down the hallway towards me like a goddamn wet dream. Her hair, still damp from my shower, is pulled back into a loose braid. She¡¯s wearing a dark green dress that makes her hazel eyes shine even from across the room. She¡¯s barefoot, and that detail alone has me clenching my teeth. She looks so at home here. So right. And without shoes, she¡¯s even smaller. Even tinierpared to me. That difference makes me feel even more protective.

    Suddenly, as if thrust underwater, my throat closes. An ufortable emotion rolls through my body and even though it makes me want to curl in on myself, I can¡¯t pull my eyes away from her. Her. My Sasha. My mind shes to finding her yesterday, shaking in the corner. I can still feel her huddled against my chest, shaking with fear. Her tears staining my shirt. Silently sobbing into my arms. That uneasy emotion grows inside me, until it fills every inch of my soul. It¡¯s hot. And familiar. And feels too intimate to acknowledge right now.

    Her eyes meet mine and a soft smile curls her lips. Warm and weing but a little bit timid.

    I could have lost her. I came so fucking close to losing her. It could have all been over, just like that.

    I don¡¯t think, I just walk to her. Grabbing her face in my hands, I hold her still while I bring my mouth to hers. Her muscles tense for one heartbeat, before she leans into my touch, meeting my kiss. Matching my passion.

    Wanting more. Needing more. I pull our bodies flush. Her warmth soothing my roiling soul. With a swipe of my tongue, she¡¯s opening to me. A soft moan leaving her throat. Her hands wing at my chest. And somehow her need for me has me calming. Knowing that she¡¯s just as deep in this as I am,forts me.

    I pull back, cing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

    Liking her off guard, I smile. ¡°Sasha, I¡¯d like to introduce you to Eric.¡±

    Her eyes widen and she tries to step back. I don¡¯t let her. This didn¡¯t start as a power flex, but I need to make it crystal fucking clear to Eric how much this woman means to me. He¡¯s been with me long enough to know that my inner circle is the most important thing in the world to me. And Sasha is a part of that inner circle now.

    I turn us so we¡¯re facing Eric together. ¡°Eric, this is Sasha. Protect her with your life.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 45

    I watch Eric over the top of my monitor. He hasn¡¯t said much of anything all day. He doesn¡¯t even y on his phone. He just sits there. Or stands there. Or stands outside my office door. The man is imposing and intense and professional to a fault.

    He greeted me this morning by calling me ma¡¯am. Wtf. Vincent just grinned. Idiots. All of them.

    And now, here in my new office, I can hardly concentrate with this silent man-boulder breathing in the corner. I would¡¯ve put up a fight about moving my office to the executive floor, but I know a losing battle when I see one. Not to mention that there¡¯s no way Eric would¡¯ve fit in my old office. He¡¯s built like one of those professional wrestlers that you see on TV, only he has the haircut and demeanor of a Marine.

    Plus, if I¡¯d stayed in my office downstairs, everyone would have been talking about the sudden appearance of the giant by the end of the day. At least up here Eric isn¡¯t the only musclehead, so he doesn¡¯t stick out like a sword in the spoon drawer. Angelo, the only man I know bigger than Eric, is in the office next to mine. And I¡¯ve seen several other security types walking the floor, so Eric fits in fine. Of course I don¡¯t know what the cover story is for me moving offices, so I¡¯m still probably a part of the rumor mill. Ugh, what a mess.

    I re at Eric like this is all his fault.

    ¡°Is there a problem, ma¡¯am?¡±

    I nearly yelp, not expecting him to talk since he wasn¡¯t looking my way.

    ¡°No¡­¡± I drag the word out. ¡°How¡¯d you know I was looking at you?¡±

    ¡°I see everything.¡±

    I don¡¯t even know what to do with his deadpan delivery. ¡°Right.¡± I tap my nails on my desktop. ¡°Any chance I can get you to stop calling me ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°Not likely.¡±

    I groan and lean back in my seat. ¡°It makes me feel so old.¡±

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t. I¡¯m six years older than you are.¡±

    ¡°How do you know how old I am?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I know everything.¡± He pauses. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡±

    This cheeky bastard. ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Eric finally nces at me. ¡°Not likely.¡±

    ¡°Keep it up and I¡¯m going to give your personal number to my brother.¡± I threaten. ¡°Have fun fielding his check-in calls all day long.¡±

    Eric gives me a bored look. ¡°I¡¯ve already spoken with Special Agent rk. He¡¯s aware of my protocols. But I¡¯d be happy to call him if you¡¯d like to confirm.¡±

    I should be outraged at this new detail, but instead I have to bite my lips to keep from smiling.

    My phone interrupts us and I spend the next half an hour going over details of the press release for Marie¡¯s House with one of the guys on my team. It¡¯s a little weird to talk like this, since they¡¯re just a few floors below me, but with my new very conspicuous tag-a-long I figured over-the-phone was best. I¡¯ll have to deal with my new situation soon, but not today. Not. Freaking. Today.

    Wrapping up my notes, I email them over to Vincent.

    I¡¯m having some major second thoughts about this event now that we know Randal is nearby. But Vincent and I have discussed it, and it¡¯s still the best n we have.

    I inhale slowly through my nose, hoping Eric won¡¯t notice. Just thinking Randal¡¯s name has me wanting to shudder. I only saw him for half a second before I ran, so I didn¡¯t get a really good look at him, but it was enough. Enough to have a vague image of a slender blonde man haunting the edges of my mind.

    Eric is on his feet, stepping to the door, before I even register movement on the other side of the ss.

    My new office is more of a small multipurpose room, boasting a round table with four chairs and a decent sized desk. The back wall holds the view of Minneapolis, the side walls are solid, and the entire front wall is all ss, including the door. It¡¯s semi-opaque so it blurs anyone who passes by, but if someone is close enough it¡¯s possible to recognize them.

    Eric looks about ready to start a war, but the only threat out there is Brent.

    ¡°You can let him in.¡± I tell Eric, rising from my chair.

    Unlocking the handle, Eric pulls the door open but doesn¡¯t move out of the way. ¡°Yes?¡±

    I can hear Brent stammer, but I can¡¯t see him anymore, since he¡¯spletely blocked from my view by Eric¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Oh, um, can Sashae out?¡±

    I can¡¯t help it. I crack upughing. He sounds like a kid asking if his friend cane y. ¡°Oh my god, Eric. Let him in.¡±

    When Eric steps aside and I get a look at Brent Iugh even more. His cheeks are so pink they¡¯re nearly red. And the way he keeps ncing at Eric as he sidesteps past him has me pping a hand over my mouth.

    Brent widens his eyes at me once he¡¯s past the door guard, mouthing Wow.

    My smile is wider than it¡¯s been all day. ¡°Hey there, Brent. Wee to myir.¡±

    ¡°No kidding. Pretty sure if anyone could use some sugar and caffeine it¡¯s you.¡± He hands me a coffee and I grin when I see where it¡¯s from.

    ¡°Thanks, you¡¯re not wrong.¡± I greedily take a gulp. ¡°So,e to hang out?¡±

    Brent chuckles. ¡°I wish. The boss man told me toe get you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, okay.¡± With my coffee in one hand, I pick up my notes with the other.

    Eric is blocking the door. ¡°You¡¯re going to Vincent¡¯s office?¡±

    Brent clears his throat. ¡°Yeah, uh, he said to tell you that you can have an hour free. I can walk her over.¡±

    Eric shakes his head. ¡°She¡¯s not leaving my sight until she¡¯s with Vincent.¡±

    Brent opens his mouth to say more, but I stop him with an exasperated sound. ¡°It¡¯s no use. He¡¯s serious.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll follow you.¡± Eric rumbles as he holds open the door.

    I use my elbow to nudge Brent forward. We walk side by side and a nce over my shoulder confirms that Eric is a few strides behind us.

    Brent leans in so he can whisper, ¡°So¡­ what the hell is going on? You either pissed off the boss big time, or you literally blew his mind, because I¡¯ve never seen him do something like this before.¡±

    I pretend to think it over. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s mad. And I haven¡¯t blown him since that day you nearly walked in on us, so¡­¡±

    My words have their desired effect when Brent chokes so hard he almost trips. ¡°Sweet Christ, woman! Are you trying to kill me?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. Just trying to get your mind off my new bodyguard.¡±

    Brent makes a humming noise. ¡°Speaking of blowjobs.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡± Iugh. ¡°You had quite the adorable blush going back there.¡±

    ¡°Oh my god, shut up!¡± Brent hisses at me. He slows as we near Vincent¡¯s office. ¡°Seriously though, is everything okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll tell you about it when I can. Eric is just here as a precaution.¡± It¡¯s enough of a truth that I don¡¯t feel bad telling it.

    ¡°Okay, but if there¡¯s anything I can help with, let me know.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Brent. You¡¯re a good friend. And probably the only fun person in this ce.¡±

    He barks out augh. ¡°Oh, I know that¡¯s the truth.¡±

    Vincent is already standing in his doorway when we get there.

    Proving his fun status, Brent makes a sweeping gesture as he bows. ¡°Yourdy and her guardian have arrived.¡±

    Vincent shakes his head, but I can tell that he¡¯s amused. ¡°Eric, I¡¯ll walk her back to her office. Be back there in an hour.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    I half expect him to salute, but he just turns on his heels and stalks off.

    ¡°Where do I get one of those?¡± Brent mumbles under his breath. Vincent rolls his eyes but before he can speak, Brent waves him off. ¡°Yeah, yeah, hold all your calls. Knock before entering. I got it.¡±

    I snort seeing the look on Vincent¡¯s face and step past him into his office.

    Shutting the door behind him Vincent gives me a fake re. ¡°Why do I feel like you¡¯re the reason for my assistant¡¯s new attitude.¡±

    ¡°I promise, I have no idea what you mean.¡± I say, seating myself in the visitor¡¯s chair.

    Vincent watches me closely as he slowly circles his desk before taking his own seat. ¡°How are you doing?¡±

    There¡¯s something in his tone and I know he¡¯s not talking about work. ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± I reply. ¡°Not great. Not horrible.¡± I shrug one shoulder.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes trail up and down my body, as though he¡¯d be able to see if I¡¯m lying.

    Leaning forward I ce my hand on top of his where it rests on his desk. ¡°Vincent, I¡¯m okay.¡±

    The hand beneath mine rolls over so our palms are touching. ¡°If that changes, let me know.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I wink.

    That gets the firm set of his mouth twitching just a little. I start to pull my hand back, but his fingerstch around my wrist. ¡°I can¡¯t decide which way I like you best. Defiant and asking for punishment. Orpliant and begging for reward.¡±

    I fight off the urge to shiver at his words. ¡°That¡¯s good, since you seem to cause both reactions in equal measure.¡±

    His fingers give a gentle squeeze. ¡°How¡¯s it going with Eric?¡±

    ¡°Fine, I guess. I¡¯m pretty sure the guy who delivered our lunch nearly crapped himself with how scary Eric was being. Poor kid deserves a huge tip, which of course I don¡¯t know if he got since you told Eric I¡¯m not allowed to pay for anything.¡±

    ¡°I always tip well.¡± Vincent replies, ignoring the rest of my statement.

    ¡°I can pay for my own lunches, Vincent.¡±

    ¡°You paying is one more point of contact with strangers that I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t have.¡±

    I raise my eyebrows at him. ¡°It¡¯s delivery. It¡¯s paid through an app.¡±

    He holds my gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±

    He tugs my arm, causing me to lean over his desk. ¡°You like it.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Just a little.¡± With my free hand I use my thumb and pointer finger to demonstrate how little.

    Vincentughs and releases my arm. ¡°Now before you distract me with your womanly ways, let¡¯s go over those talking points you sent.¡±

    ¡°Womanly ways?¡± I scoff. ¡°And if anyone is a distraction, it¡¯s you and this damn office. We should really start meeting somewhere else¡­?¡±

    ¡°Not going to happen.¡± Vincent turns to hisputer. ¡°Okay, so the list you -¡±

    I cut him off. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this?¡±

    Vincent slowly looks back at me. ¡°Do what?¡±

    ¡°Have Annie with you at Marie¡¯s House. With Randal out there¡­¡±

    ¡°Sasha, we¡¯ve been over this. It¡¯s the right call. People are going to find out about Annie being a Mazzanti, and it¡¯s better to do it now and control the story. Like you said, the sooner the better, and hopefully by the time fall rolls around Annie¡¯s new ssmates at school won¡¯t care. She¡¯s not the only filthy rich kid in this city, and the whole point of your PR campaign is to make it clear that the Mazzanti family is here for legal business and nothing else.¡±

    ¡°But with Randal -¡± I interject.

    Vincent waves me off. ¡°Randal is always a threat. Has always been a threat. I liked to think that I scared him off, but he was always out there. Waiting. Himing after you doesn¡¯t change that. Only now he¡¯s shown his hand. We know he¡¯s in the city. We can focus our energies here on finding him. And removing the threat once and for all.¡±

    I let that sentence hang in the air. In one breath he talks about being a legit businessman, and the next he¡¯s talking about eliminating threats. I don¡¯t ask for rification. If my daughter were the target of a madman, I¡¯d rip his throat out with my own bare hands without a second thought.

    I give Vincent a nod. ¡°Okay. If you think it¡¯s the right call.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± His tone is confident. ¡°Plus, this isn¡¯t like the press conference we hosted here. It¡¯s not open to the public. It¡¯s just your one journalist friend.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Vanny is the best in the city. We can trust her. She¡¯ll also have a photographer with her, but we get to select which photos will be published.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have Angelo, Eric and a few other guys there with us. And my mother always travels with Max, her bodyguard. It¡¯s as controlled as we can get.¡±

    I exhale, feeling slightly better. ¡°There¡¯s also a few people from the PR team that will be there, and I believe that my boss will also stop by. It¡¯ll definitely be overkill on our side of things.¡±

    Vincent smirks. ¡°Overkill is underrated.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 46

    Forty-five minutester, I smile at Vincent. ¡°I think we¡¯ve covered it all. I¡¯m sure someone wille up with something to add in the next couple days, but I¡¯ve no doubt you can handle the adjustments.¡±

    ¡°Right you are.¡± Vincent stands, holding his hand out for me as he steps around the desk.

    Without thinking, I take it and rise. The feeling of his fingers twining with mine is so natural.

    ¡°Umm, what are you doing?¡± I ask when I realize he¡¯s leading me towards his couch and not the office door.

    ¡°We have some time.¡±

    My steps slow. ¡°Vincent, I don¡¯t want to have sex with you.¡± He gives me the most knowing look and I return it with a slow blink. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have sex with you, in broad daylight, in your office, with Brent sitting on the other side of the door.¡±

    ¡°Brent!¡± Vincent shouts. ¡°Go away!¡±

    I burst outughing.

    ¡°Uh, what?¡± Brent¡¯s question is muffled by the still closed door.

    I quickly p my hand over Vincent¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Nothing!¡± I call out.

    Vincent nips at my palm before dropping bodily onto the couch.

    ¡°Seriously, Vincent. I¡¯m not having sex here.¡± I put my hands on my hips to emphasize my point.

    ¡°As adorable as your little stance against me is, I¡¯m not asking you for sex. I just want to sit for a few minutes. Together.¡±

    He sounds like he¡¯s telling the truth, but I still don¡¯t understand what he wants.

    ¡°Good lord, woman. Why are you stubborn about everything?¡± Vincent says a second before reaching out and pulling me to him.

    I expect him to yank me onto the couch next to him, but instead he grabs my hips and pulls me down so I¡¯m sitting across hisp. My butt on his muscr thighs. My feet hanging off hisp. My shoulder pressed against his warm hard chest.

    Vincent wraps one arm around my back, keeping my body snug against him. His other hand drapes over my thighs, fingers toying with the material of my dress.

    ¡°There.¡± He murmurs, his breath fanning against my forehead. ¡°This is better.¡±

    I hum my agreement. He¡¯s right. This is better.

    Tucking my hands under my cheek, I rx into his body. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

    ¡°You were right.¡± Vincent strokes a hand down my thigh before continuing. ¡°What you said in your apartment, you were right. I could give you a list of motivations for my previous asshole behavior, but they would just be excuses.¡±

    I try to sit up to look at him, but his grip around my back tightens. ¡°I appreciate the sentiment, Vincent. But what are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Us. I¡¯m talking about us. About being a real couple. About being in a rtionship. I don¡¯t want to try and hide my feelings for you anymore. I want this to be official.¡±

    Warmth pools in my chest at his words. ¡°Are you asking me to go steady?¡±

    He pinches my hip, making me squeak. ¡°Keep being a smartass, see where that gets you.¡±

    This time when I try to push up, Vincent lets me. I don¡¯t put much space between us, just enough so I can see his handsome face.

    Vincent holds my gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll probably suck at being in a rtionship, but I¡¯ll figure it out. We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±

    These are the words I¡¯ve been waiting for him to say and I feel them in every inch of my body. He told me as muchst night when he demanded that I tell him I¡¯m yours. It was hot as fuck, but having him say this in the calm of the day, it means even more.

    ¡°Vincent, I want that too. I want you. I probably shouldn¡¯t, since you¡¯re nothing but trouble, but it hasn¡¯t stopped me yet.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    He leans in but I press a hand to the center of his body to hold him still. ¡°But we can¡¯t.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because I could lose my job.¡±

    ¡°Who cares.¡±

    ¡°I care!¡± I say, exasperated. ¡°Here, in the world of reality, people need jobs. You know, to pay for things like rent and food.¡±

    Vincent doesn¡¯t break his stare. ¡°I¡¯ll give you whatever money you need.¡±

    For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. ¡°You¡¯re insane. You know that?¡±

    He shrugs, the movement shifting my body with his. ¡°What? I have the money. It would make no difference to me.¡±

    I bite down on a snarky reply. This man is impossible. ¡°No. Not going to happen.¡±

    ¡°Sasha.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m not looking for a sugar daddy, Vincent.¡±

    His huff reminds me so much of Annie I have to stop myself from smiling. If I do that now, he¡¯ll think he¡¯s won.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± He says again, this time in a gentler tone. ¡°I just¡­ I don¡¯t want¡­ I don¡¯t want you to go to your next project, working for some other rich asshole, who¡¯ll inevitably drool all over you.¡±

    My jaw drops open. ¡°What on earth are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m talking about you being out there. Away from me.¡± He gestures to the window. ¡°I¡¯m warning you right now, I¡¯m going to be a shit boyfriend. I¡¯ll be needy and jealous and I¡¯ll rip the arms off anyone who tries to touch you.¡±

    ¡°Vincent, out of the two of us, I¡¯m going to be the jealous one. I¡¯ve already witnessed women throwing themselves at you just for a second of your attention. And I don¡¯t even want to know where wepare on the number of ex¡¯s.¡± I can hear it when my tone turns pouty.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes stay in mine. ¡°That¡¯s easy. I have zero.¡±

    ¡°Zero?¡± I raise my eyebrows at him. ¡°Am I honestly to believe that you were a virgin when we met? Annie was conceived by immacte conception via your godlike powers.¡±

    Tilting his head, Vincent gives me a don¡¯t be dumb look. ¡°Obviously not. But I¡¯ve never had a girlfriend. There¡¯s no one that I would consider an ex, as you put it.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Seriously.¡±

    ¡°Not even in college? High school?¡± I press.

    He smirks. ¡°There might be a few girls that would argue with my statement, but nothing was ever official. Never in my life have I referred to a woman as my girlfriend.¡±

    ¡°Huh. That¡¯s¡­ kinda sad.¡±

    His smirk is still in ce. ¡°Don¡¯t feel bad for me, sweetheart. I had plenty ofpany.¡±

    ¡°Uh, gross!¡± I smack his firm abdomen.

    ¡°Do that again.¡± He growls leaning into me.

    ¡°Oh my god.¡± I shove him back into the couch cushions. ¡°This doesn¡¯t change anything, Casanova. We can¡¯t just go around making out in public. And my boss is going to be at Marie¡¯s House with us, so you can¡¯t be all Mr. Grabby Hands.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Grabby Hands?¡± Vincent¡¯s deadpan delivery has me choking on augh.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡±

    ¡°Sasha, I¡¯m not going to pretend that there¡¯s nothing between us.¡±

    I take a deep breath, hoping for patience. ¡°Do it for me. Just until my contract with Mazzanti Enterprises is over. We have the shoot at Marie¡¯s House in a few days. Then another week until the g. Then I¡¯m done. After that, you won¡¯t be my client anymore. You won¡¯t be a client of Minnesota Rtions anymore. At which point, I can no longer get fired for having a romantic rtionship with you.¡±

    Vincent looks unmoved by my speech. ¡°You don¡¯t know that she¡¯ll fire you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m almost certain.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell her not to.¡± The arrogant ass states.

    ¡°Um, no. That¡¯s not how the world works.¡±

    ¡°Then if she fires you, I¡¯ll just hire you. You can do the same exact work, but as a Mazzanti employee.¡±

    He¡¯s so serious, so oblivious to the issue, that I smile. ¡°That¡¯s a sweet offer, but no.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Why? Oh gee, I don¡¯t know. I get fired for sleeping with you. Then you hire me. Then all my coworkers here know that I¡¯m sleeping with the boss. Not just the boss, but The Boss. No one would respect me. And everyone would be afraid that I would take any work problems directly to you. It¡¯s a hard no, Vincent.¡± How does he not get this?

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell everyone to be nice to you.¡±

    If I roll my eyes any harder, I¡¯m going to strain them. ¡°Oh, well that¡¯ll clear it up.¡±

    He scowls. ¡°I know you¡¯re being sarcastic, but I think it would be fine.¡±

    I pat his cheek. ¡°You¡¯re adorable. But the answer is still no.¡±

    He stays silent for a long moment, eyes staring over my shoulder, and I start to worry about whatever n he¡¯s concocting in his mind. With him distracted, I take a moment to just take him in. Those nearly ck irises so focused. So piercing. When they¡¯re directed at me, I feel like he can see all of me, and I feel like I can see all of him.

    I know he¡¯s serious, about everything he¡¯s said. Thisrge, hard, potent man wants me to be his. Me. Sasha rk. I have decent self-esteem, but I¡¯m nothing special. And beyond being just in hot, Vincent has power. And I don¡¯t simply mean mary or business power. But raw power. The sort he exudes from every pore. He carries himself like he lives on a different ne of existence. He walks through a crowd as if he¡¯s a king striding past his court. It¡¯s heady. It¡¯s addicting. And I don¡¯t think he even realizes he¡¯s doing it.

    My gaze travels across his face. The dark stubble gracing his cheeks and wide jaw. With the sun streaming in behind him, I can see traces of grey in his dark locks. He almost looks like an angel, but I know better than that. Fallen angel, perhaps.

    ¡°Keep looking at me like that, and I¡¯ll be canceling my next meeting.¡± Vincent¡¯s arrogant tone halts my pursual.

    I smirk, not ashamed of getting caught. ¡°I¡¯m okay with just looking.¡±

    His hand tightens on my side and he pulls me harder against hisp. Rolling my hips, I can feel him hardening beneath me.

    Both feeling the pull, we lean into each other. Our lips meet halfway. Mouths gliding together. Later, when I¡¯m alone and my hormones aren¡¯t out of control, I¡¯ll realize that this is the first time we¡¯ve ever met in the middle. The first time we¡¯ve ever really been on even ground.

    His taste is exotic yet familiar. His body warm, yet hard. His hands gentle, yet iming.

    The logical part of my brain doesn¡¯t want to believe what he says. It wants to question his sincerity. But his touch does what his words can¡¯t. His touch removes all remaining doubt. I know he wants me. I¡¯ve known that since our first night in Vegas. But this, I think I¡¯m finally getting it. Finally understanding it. He needs me the same way that I need him.

    Breaking our kiss, Vincent rests his forehead against mine. The move is familiar andforting.

    ¡°Come home with me tonight.¡± His voice is deeper than usual. Thicker.

    I inhale the scent of him around me. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± I slowly exhale. ¡°I want to, but I can¡¯t. The longer I wait to go back to my apartment, the more I¡¯ll build up the break-in in my mind, and the worse it will be.¡±

    He hums in understanding as one of his big hands runs up my spine. ¡°I coulde stay with you.¡±

    I give a small shake of my head. ¡°No, we¡¯ve disrupted Annie enough already.¡±

    His hand stops on the back of my neck. ¡°You don¡¯t have to go back at all. You could move in with us.¡±

    It takes me a long moment to process his words. I can¡¯t tell if this insane man is serious or just saying what he thinks I want to hear. I won¡¯t let myself read into it. I can¡¯t. It¡¯d be absolutely crazy for us to move in together so soon. Right?

    ¡°Vincent¡­¡± I don¡¯t know what to say.

    ¡°Or I¡¯ll buy you a new condo. Whatever you want, sweetheart. But you don¡¯t have to go back there if you don¡¯t want to.¡±

    Choosing to jump over that tangled mess, I drag my hands across his shoulders. ¡°Thank you. But I need to do this. I can¡¯t run away.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± I believe him. Vincent is so headstrong that I¡¯m sure he does understand. ¡°Remember that I¡¯m just a phone call away. Eric will be there with you, but if you need anything, anything at all, promise me that you¡¯ll call. No matter the time.¡±

    I press my lips against his. ¡°I promise.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 47

    Having Eric walk me through the many steps of my new security system was exactly what I needed to get my mind off thest time I was in this apartment. But now¡­ Now as Iy here in my bed, with Captain at my side, I have this creepy, foreign feeling. I know it¡¯s safe. I know it¡¯s safe. But like a kid with a closet door ajar, I can¡¯t seem to trust it. I can¡¯t let my guard down.

    Eric checked every square inch of this ce when we got here. He didn¡¯t even let Mrs. Peterson inside when she returned Captain to me. After Eric sent her away I¡¯d mistakenly made a joke about her nting a bug if he¡¯d let here in, and he had assured me that Vincent had the entire apartment swept for listening and video devices. I¡¯m sure he said that thinking it would make me feel better, but I hadn¡¯t even considered it as an option. Which was dumb of me since Randal is supposedly a tech genius.  Needless to say, his littlement made me even more paranoid, and I keep checking the room for blinking red lights indicating a live camera feed.

    With a shiver, I pull the nkets up to my chin, looking around at the dark corners of my ceiling.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing there.¡± I say out loud to myself, hoping it will stop my worrying.

    It doesn¡¯t. But it does cause Captain to lift his head and blink his sleepy cat eyes at me. I slip an arm out from under the nket to scratch the spot he likes under his chin.

    ¡°I know I¡¯m being foolish, Cap. But I can¡¯t help it. I just wish someone was here with me.¡± Vincent¡¯s handsome face shes into my mind and I sigh. ¡°I should have just stayed over there. It¡¯s the chicken way, but at least with someone nearby I¡¯d be able to fall asleep.¡± Captain looks towards my closed door. ¡°You¡¯re right. I should just go ask him.¡±

    I¡¯m still not sure what to think about Vincent¡¯s deration of wanting to go official. But I bet he¡¯d run the other way if he saw me lying here talking to my cat. Either way, that¡¯s a suitcase of baggage that I still can¡¯t unload right now. First step: be able to sleep at home. Second step¡­ deal with the rest of life¡¯s problems.

    Climbing out of bed, I grab my phone off the nightstand. Looking down at my outfit I debate if I should change, or put on a bra, but then discard the idea. There is nothing ttering, snug, nor sexy about my nnel Christmas pajamas. The long pants and long sleeves are a little warm for summer, but I needed maxfort. Both physical and mental.

    Walking down the hall, I can see that the light above the stove has been left on, leaving the main room dimly lit. The quiet makes me hesitate; what if Eric is already asleep? I don¡¯t want to bother him.

    ¡°Everything okay?¡± His voice sounds from the couch.

    Clearly he¡¯s awake, so I step out of the hallway.

    ¡°Yeah. Everything is fine.¡± My fingers fidget on my phone.

    Eric is sitting on the couch. nkets and pillows stacked next to him, just where I left them.

    ¡°Are you going to sleep?¡± I ask, walking over to one of the armchairs and sitting down.

    Eric nods. ¡°Eventually. What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Crossing my arms, I break eye contact. ¡°I can¡¯t sleep.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Did you want to watch TV? I can get out of your way.¡± He offers.

    ¡°Oh, no. Thank you. It¡¯s just¡­¡± How the hell am I supposed to ask this? I take a deep breath and force the words out. ¡°I can¡¯t sleep alone. I¡¯m freaked out, and I know it¡¯s dumb, but I want to know if I could sleep out here with you. Or maybe you coulde sleep with me.¡±

    Eric clears his throat and I realize how that sounded.

    ¡°Oh my god, that¡¯s not what I meant!¡± My hands fly up to cover my face, and I smack my cheekbone with my phone, forgetting I was still holding it. ¡°Shit!¡± Springing to my feet, I feel my face me red. ¡°Please forget this happened.¡±

    I¡¯m about to sprint to my room but the sound of Eric¡¯sugh has me freezing. It¡¯s not just augh, it¡¯s a full freaking bellyugh. I didn¡¯t even think this man was capable of smiling. With my mouth hanging open I watch him lean forward, cing his elbows on his knees, as theughter eventually dies off.

    ncing up at me, Eric has a genuine grin on his face. It makes him look like a whole new person. Like a real human rather than thebat robot he¡¯s been acting like all day.

    ¡°Are you broken?¡± I choke out.

    Eric shakes his head and lets out another huff ofughter. ¡°No, ma¡¯am.¡±

    That has me rolling my eyes. ¡°Okay. So, we agree that this never happened?¡±

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am. We¡¯ll get this sorted. And I¡¯m sorry. I wasn¡¯tughing at you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you were.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I was. But not at you being scared. Just at you being flustered.¡± He waits a beat. ¡°And hittin¡¯ yourself in the face.¡±

    I drop back into the chair. ¡°Laugh it up, Chuckles.¡±

    Gathering hisposure, he sits up. ¡°Let me call Mr. Mazzanti.¡±

    ¡°Oh, um, is that necessary?¡±

    Eric nods. ¡°He wanted me to check in once you went to sleep. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s about ready to call me anyways, but I was just waiting a bit. Making sure you were actually asleep.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± I feel torn. I want to talk to Vincent, but I also don¡¯t want him to know how scared I am. I close my eyes. ¡°Let me be the one to call him. Please.¡±

    If Vincent really wants to have a rtionship, then this is the exact sort of thing I would share with him. I know he won¡¯t think of me as weak, or pathetic. But I do know he¡¯ll want to sweep in and fix everything. If Eric is the one to call him, that¡¯s exactly what will happen.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 48

    When Sasha¡¯s name shes onto my screen, I stop pacing. I¡¯ve been waiting for Eric to check in, since she should be in bed already.

    ¡°Sasha, sweetheart, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°N-nothing¡¯s wrong.¡± She stutters a bit.

    ¡°Then why are you calling me?¡±

    ¡°Wow, Vincent. Really rocking the whole boyfriend thing. Does this mean that you¡¯ll never want to talk on the phone?¡± I can hear a smile in her voice, and it has some of the tension releasing from my body.

    I should probably be offended, but hearing her call me her boyfriend has me practically preening. ¡°I¡¯ll always have time to talk to my girl.¡±

    Sasha hums. ¡°Good answer.¡±

    ¡°So, are you really just calling to tell me how much you miss me, or is there something else?¡±

    I can hear her sigh over the phone and that has me tensing all over again. ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong, I just can¡¯t sleep.¡± She starts talking quicker and I know she doesn¡¯t want to be telling me these things. ¡°I know it¡¯s safe, but I just can¡¯t rx. Every sound has me jumping and¡­ And I know I won¡¯t get to sleep by myself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯lle over.¡±

    ¡°No, Vincent, you can¡¯t. I¡¯m sure Annie¡¯s already sleeping. And I don¡¯t want you to wake her, or anyone else who would have toe stay with her.¡±

    This feeling of affection spreads through me so rapidly I have to put a hand on the wall for bnce. This woman. She shows such thought and consideration for a child that isn¡¯t even hers. If I had any lingering doubts about this rtionship, her worry for Annie has evaporated them.

    Ignoring my emotions, I focus on our conversation. ¡°Thene to me.¡±

    ¡°I want to. You know I want to. But that defeats the whole point of meing here tonight. I need to stay here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m beginning to rethink your stubbornness as being a positive quality.¡± I sigh.

    ¡°You love it.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Definitely. ¡°Okay, so if you won¡¯t let mee there, and you won¡¯te here, then how can I help you? Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep?¡±

    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s a good idea.¡±

    She sounds surprised, so it has me wondering. ¡°If that¡¯s not why you called, then what was your n?¡±

    ¡°Umm, so just hear me out.¡±

    ¡°I have a feeling I¡¯m not going to like this.¡±

    Sasha chuckles. ¡°Probably not. Okay, I couldn¡¯t sleep, right. And I just kept getting more and more freaked out and I realized that I needed someone else nearby. My mind knows that Eric is here, and that the other security guy is down in the lobby, but I still felt creeped out. So, I came out to the living room and I asked Eric if maybe I could stay out here with him or if he could stay with me.¡°

    I clench my teeth. ¡°Sasha.¡±

    She cuts me off. ¡°Not to like share a bed or anything. I just need to see another person. It doesn¡¯t have to be weird. Eric said he would call you, but I wanted to be the one to exin it to you.¡± Her voice is quiet by the end of her exnation.

    ¡°Let me talk to Eric.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get all mad, this was my idea.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not mad, sweetheart. Just let me talk to him, okay?¡±

    I use the time listening to the shuffle on the other end of the phone to calm myself. I understand what she¡¯s saying. I really do. And I understand her reasons for wanting to stay in her apartment. I do. But I don¡¯t like it. I don¡¯t like a single thing about it.

    ¡°Boss.¡± Eric¡¯s tone is no nonsense. Good.

    ¡°Eric.¡± I shake out the fist I wasn¡¯t aware I was making. ¡°My Sasha needs to sleep. But so do you. You¡¯re no good to her if you¡¯re dead on your feet. Here¡¯s what you¡¯re gonna do. Drag that couch down the hall and park it right outside her bedroom door. The hallway is wide. It¡¯ll fit. And leave the door open so she can see you. Stay there all night. And if you get up to go to the bathroom or walk the perimeter, leave a shlight lit on the couch. I don¡¯t want her stepping out of the room to find it empty and not know where you are. You understand me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°And Eric, if you so much asy an inappropriate finger on Sasha, I¡¯ll castrate you myself and sink your body in the Mississippi. You understand me.¡±

    ¡°I understand, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now let me talk to my girl.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 49

    ¡°Eric.¡± I huff.

    He doesn¡¯t even blink. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Are you for real right now? It¡¯s just a few blocks.¡±

    ¡°I am for real.¡± Eric replies, not changing his tone.

    I¡¯m annoyed but he sounds so ridiculous that I almostugh.

    I look at the dark sedan and then back at Eric. ¡°But it¡¯s so nice out.¡±

    He pulls open the rear passenger door. ¡°Boss¡¯s orders.¡±

    I give up the fight and slide into the rear seat. Figuring he¡¯d take shotgun; I¡¯m surprised when Eric circles the rear of the car and joins me in the back.

    I catch the driver watching me through the rearview mirror.

    I smile. ¡°Hi. Sorry for making you wait. I didn¡¯t mean to be a pain. I just wasn¡¯t expecting the car.¡±

    The driver nods to me. ¡°No problem, ma¡¯am.¡±

    My eyes narrow and Eric lets out a very fake sounding cough. I cut my gaze over to him. ¡°Keep it up, Chuckles.¡±

    He ignores me and speaks to the driver. ¡°We¡¯re making a stop at BeanBag.¡±

    ¡°Copy that.¡± The driver replies as he pulls out into traffic.

    ¡°Really?¡± My mood instantly brightens. ¡°Thank you.¡± I tell them both.

    Settling back, I watch the pedestrians as I think about how much my life has changed in the past 48 hours. I have a bodyguard. Apparently, I have a driver. And ¨C most notably ¨C I have a boyfriend. Though the term hardly seems fitting for a man like Vincent. There is nothing boy about him.

    At first nce, Vincent seems like he¡¯d be terrible at rtionships. He is Mr. Sin after all. My Las Vegas Devil. But he proved that he can be a good partnerst night. I¡¯m not sure what he all said to Eric, and I probably don¡¯t want to know, but his idea of putting the couch in the hall was brilliant. Although I think the credit for my good sleep needs to go to Vincent himself. He stayed on the phone with me all night. Literally, all night.

    When I climbed into bed, he had me plug my phone in and then set it to speaker on my side table. In that sexy, deep, rough voice of his, he told me toy down, shut my eyes and listen.

    So I did. Iid there, listening to him talk to me. He talked about work mostly, telling me that he would bore me to sleep. Before I had called him, he¡¯d been reviewing some documents for a building he¡¯s buying in New York, so he just started reading that to me. He could read a cookbook and it would still be panty-melting. Which probably exins my filthy dreams.

    When I woke up this morning, I saw that our call hadsted for over six hours. I¡¯m assuming Vincent also fell asleep with the phone on. I just hope he got enough sleep for himself.

    The car pulls to the curb in front of BeanBag.

    ¡°Would you like anything?¡± I ask the driver, realizing I never got his name.

    ¡°Oh, no. But thank you for asking.¡± He smiles at me.

    I start to reach for my door handle when Eric¡¯s handnds on my forearm. ¡°Wait for me.¡± When I widen my eyes at him, he adds, ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, fine.¡±

    Feeling like a total snob, I let Eric open my door, guide me across the sidewalk to BeanBag, and then hold that door open for me as well. The telltale sound of the coffee bean filled rain stick announcing our entrance.

    I give Eric a slight bow as I pass. ¡°Instead of ma¡¯am, you can address me as her majesty from now on.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, that has a nice ring to it.¡± The reply doesn¡¯te from Eric.

    I spin around and find Vincent striding towards me, Angelo not far behind him.

    The grin on my face is instant. ¡°Vincent! What are you doing here?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t stop until our chests are nearly touching, wrapping his hands around my upper arms. ¡°Buying you coffee, of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    He leans in as I go up on my toes. Our lips press together for just a heartbeat. But it¡¯s enough to settle thatst bit of me. The bit that¡¯s been off kilter since going homest night.

    ¡°Good morning, your majesty. How¡¯d you sleep?¡± Vincent asks while he runs his hands down the length of my arms.

    ¡°I slept great. Thank you.¡± When our fingers twine together, I say it again hoping he¡¯ll know how much I mean it. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    He gives my hand a squeeze. ¡°Anytime. Now let¡¯s order. I know I could use a pick me up.¡±

    Benny the Barista only made it 90% obvious that he was gawking at my new entourage. I¡¯m fairly sure showing up with just Vincent would have gotten me that same look, but tack on Eric and Angelo and we really are a sight to be seen. Eric is in another set of all-ck bodyguard gear, and Angelo looks like an oversized NFL yer wearing the dressier version of Eric¡¯s outfit. And Vincent¡­ Vincent looks just like the devilishly handsome business mogul that he is.

    Standing amid my group of men while we wait for our beverages, I¡¯m zoned out and not paying attention to the peopleing and going until someone says my name.

    ¡°Sasha? Is that you?¡±

    I can feel Vincent tense next to me. I turn and find myself frozen in indecision, not sure how to handle this new development.

    Standing a few feet away is Jason. A man who I dated, causally, for a short while, but whom I haven¡¯t seen in months. Of fucking course, I would run into him here. Today, of all days.

    Jason doesn¡¯t seem to notice my hesitancy as he approaches. ¡°How¡¯ve you been?¡± His gaze drags down my dress-d body. ¡°You look great.¡±

    I cringe. This isn¡¯t going to go well for him. ¡°Uh, hey. Thanks.¡±

    Jason¡¯s smile hasn¡¯t dimmed. He clearly hasn¡¯t read the room at all, since he continues to get closer, raising his arms as though he¡¯s going to try to give me a hug.

    I don¡¯t have to decide how to respond. Vincent drops a heavy arm over my shoulders and steps so he¡¯s standing slightly in front of me, acting as an oversized, overprotective human shield.

    The move is enough to finally have Jason¡¯s smile slipping. His eyes darting back and forth between me and Vincent.

    ¡°Vincent, this is Jason. Jason, Vincent.¡± I give introductions in a surprisingly normal voice.

    ¡°Oh, hey man.¡± Jason holds his hand out.

    When Vincent doesn¡¯t immediately take it, I nce up. He¡¯s giving Jason a hard once over, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. This dick measuring is pointless. And unnecessary. I know who¡¯d win that contest, and it isn¡¯t Jason.

    I also know exactly what Vincent sees when he looks at Jason. He sees a good looking, nerdy 30-something, who¡¯s slender and just a few inches taller than I am. He was a nice enough guy, but honestly, I felt like I was going to smother him any time we were together. It¡¯s no fault of his, but I was always self-conscious of my size when we were together. That¡¯s not why we didn¡¯t work, but it¡¯s one of the reasons I didn¡¯t try harder at what could have be something.

    Vincent though, I don¡¯t ever feel like I¡¯m too much for him to handle. And if anyone is going to break during sex, it¡¯s me. I warm at that and lean into Vincent¡¯s side.

    That must be the right move because his grip on me tightens and he finally epts Jason¡¯s offered hand.

    ¡°Ex-boyfriend, I take it?¡±

    Vincent¡¯s direct words shock me so much a strange squeakes out of my mouth. ¡°Vincent!¡± I whisper at him.

    Jason seems just as flustered. ¡°Uh, well, not exactly. I mean we dated.¡±

    ¡°You got ast name, Jason?¡± Eric¡¯s voice has me turning to see him standing on my other side. My peripheral vision showing that Angelo is standing behind me.

    ¡°Um¡­¡± Jason trails off.

    I let out a string of silent curses. It probably looks like I have some sort of oversized reverse harem.

    I try to give him a sincere smile. ¡°Jason, please excuse the cavemen routine. It was nice to see you.¡±

    When Jason doesn¡¯t move, Vincent leans forward, ever so slightly. ¡°Bye, Jason.¡±

    Finally taking the hint, Jason backs away, nearly knocking over a small table, before he turns and hurries out of the store.

    I swat at Vincent¡¯s abs, but he snags my wrist. Holding my hand against his hard stomach, he bends down, putting his lips next to my ear. ¡°If all your ex¡¯s are little pricks like that, then this caveman routine is going to be easier than I thought.¡±

    He punctuates his statement with a kiss to my temple.

    I should be mad at him for being such an oaf, but I don¡¯t have it in me. I do feel a little bad for Jason though.

    I raise my eyes to respond, when my gaze locks on yet another familiar face standing in line for coffee. Jessica. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open as she stares right at us.

    Oh shit.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 50

    My body tenses.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Vincent straightens as he asks this, scanning the crowd.

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    He talks over my head. ¡°Eric.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, boss?¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± I grab Vincent¡¯s face in both hands and make him look down at me. ¡°It¡¯s just one of my coworkers. I need to go talk to her.¡± Sensing his next words, I cut him off. ¡°Alone.¡±

    ¡°Sasha.¡±

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I give him my best I¡¯m serious look. ¡°I¡¯ll be 20 feet away. I¡¯m not gonna sneak out and go sprinting down the street.¡±

    I can feel his jaw clench under my palms before he turns his head to kiss my wrist. ¡°Fine.¡±

    Not giving myself time to freak out, I step away from Vincent and walk towards Jessica. I should have been paying better attention to who was in here. I know she frequents BeanBag. I¡¯m just lucky it was her who caught me and not someone else.

    As I near, I watch her eyes dart between myself and where I left Vincent standing. If I know him, he¡¯s probably still standing there staring right back. Along with his meathead buddies.

    ¡°Hi, Jess.¡± I greet her cautiously.

    Her eyes don¡¯t stop their back-and-forth pattern, and her jaw is literally hanging open.

    I reach out and flick her chin. ¡°You can close your mouth now.¡±

    ¡°Is that¡­ Are you¡­ How long have you¡­ Oh my god, you¡¯re sleeping with Mr. Sin!¡± Her eyes widen with each attempt at a sentence. ¡°Oh my god!¡±

    She saw enough that there¡¯s no point in denying it. And her reaction is soical I shrug and smile in response.

    Jessica reaches out and flicks my chin in return. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?!¡± She waves off the question as soon as she asks it. ¡°Never mind. I get it. Golden Girl Sasha is sleeping with a client. This is the scandal of the century.¡± She grins.

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re making me feel so much better about this.¡± Iugh.

    Jessica scoffs. ¡°Give me a break. You have that giant pile of sexy over there tofort you.¡± She fans herself. ¡°Tell me his cock is as big as I¡¯ve imagined it is.¡±

    I feel my face flush red.

    Jessica squeals. ¡°You stupid bitch! I¡¯m so jealous of you right now. But seriously, we most definitely need to catch up. Dinner and drinks for sure.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± I agree, honestly looking forward to it.

    Seeing her here was a shock but being able to talk to another woman about Vincent would be so nice. Jessica is a bit rowdy, but she¡¯s a good person and a great listener.

    I think about my schedule. ¡°I¡¯m swamped for the next couple days until the photoshoot at Marie¡¯s House, but after that I¡¯m open. Did you want to do another yoga ss?¡±

    Jessica scrunches up her nose. ¡°Yoga? No. I¡¯m done with that.¡±

    ¡°The ss or the guy?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Both. I could hardly move for three days after that dumb ss. And flexibility is great and all, but turns out that moron thought the female orgasm was a myth.¡±

    ¡°What? Wow. Fuck that guy.¡±

    ¡°Fuck what guy?¡± Vincent¡¯s voice rumbles right next to me.

    I expect Jessica to go back to being starstruck, but of course she doesn¡¯t. ¡°Oh, just this loser I went out with a few times who didn¡¯t believe the woman should also get off.¡±

    Vincent clucks his tongue in disapproval. The sh of pink between his teeth causing my thighs to clench. ¡°That¡¯s uneptable.¡± He turns his gaze to me. ¡°Right, Sasha?¡±

    ¡°Umm.¡± I have no appropriate response for that.

    Jessica lets out a cackle ofughter. ¡°Oh my god, this is so great! You two are so adorable together!¡±

    Vincent presses a hand against my lower back, turning me into him.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t we just.¡± The jackass says before kissing the top of my head. With his other hand he reaches out to greet Jessica. ¡°I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve been introduced. I¡¯m Vincent. Sasha¡¯s boyfriend.¡±

    Jessica beams.

    I groan.

    She ignores me. ¡°Jessica. Sasha¡¯s friend from work. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    I see Eric step up next to Vincent, a coffee cup in each hand. Figuring I should get it over with, I gesture towards him. ¡°You might as well meet Eric, too. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll have to tag along for our girl¡¯s night.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Jessica¡¯s eyebrows go up.

    I sigh. ¡°He¡¯s my bodyguard. For the next little while at least.¡±

    Jessica gives him an approving look, not at all phased by the fact that I have a bodyguard now. ¡°You like tacos and margaritas?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± Eric replies.

    I roll my eyes at his formality, but Jessica just smiles harder.

    Vincent slides hisrge palm up my back. ¡°I hate to cut this reunion short, but we need to get back.¡±

    I tip my head back to look up at him. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Something in my tone makes him grin. ¡°You¡¯reing too, sweetheart. I¡¯m riding with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh? How¡¯d you get here?¡±

    ¡°I went into the office early, so we just walked over.¡±

    I shoot a re over at Eric, but he just shrugs.

    When I turn back to Jessica, she¡¯s beaming. I roll my eyes. ¡°Text me, okay?¡±

    ¡°Whatever you say.¡± She replies with a smirk. Then she mouths sweetheart.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 51

    I end up sandwiched in the backseat between my boyfriend and Shrek, with Eric sitting shotgun. To say it¡¯s cramped would be the world biggest understatement. Really though, I don¡¯t mind. It gives me an excuse to lean into Vincent¡¯s side.

    The drive to the office is only a few minutes, but I pull out my phone and scroll through my emails while the men on either side of me talk about business.

    Vincent¡¯s hand squeezes my knee. ¡°If Uncle Enzo is back in town, make sure he gets an invite to the g next weekend.¡±

    I nce up, thinking he¡¯s talking to me but see that his attention is still on Angelo. I haven¡¯t heard Vincent mention an Uncle Enzo before, but if it¡¯s not a task for me to do, then I won¡¯t concern myself with it.

    I¡¯m excited for the g-style charity fundraiser that Mazzanti Enterprises will be hosting as a sort of breakout event. We thought about holding it elsewhere in the city. The Syndicate Hotel was at the top of the list for a potential location, but between the rental fees and the hotel¡¯s nefarious history, the nningmittee decided to keep it in-house. Once I finally took a peek at the event space on the second floor of the M.E. building, I realized it was a smart choice. The room is stunning.

    It¡¯s going to be a mourous evening filled with music, delicious food and fabulous silent auction items, but it¡¯s also something I can be proud to be a part of. The money that we raise will be split between a handful of local organizations that all focus on homelessness, hunger and domestic violence. There will be mention of Marie¡¯s House throughout the event, but the main point is to bring together like-minded donors and like-minded organizations.

    I¡¯m excited to see the final oue. And I¡¯m thrilled I don¡¯t have to do much of the work since it¡¯s primarily an event nning affair. My team will only have a minor role to y, and for that I¡¯m thankful.

    I¡¯m also thankful that my driver, who¡¯s name I still don¡¯t know, pulled us into the underground executive lot. It¡¯s hard enough to exin Eric¡¯s presence to my coworkers. Thest thing I want is to be seen arriving at work in the same car as Vincent.

    Every assumption they¡¯d probably have would be true, but still ¨C I¡¯m not ready to deal with that fallout yet.

    Vincent holds the door open for me, then lets Eric and Angelo walk ahead of us as he twines our fingers together.

    ¡°Come over tonight.¡± The cocky Devil tells me, instead of asking. ¡°I have a lunch meeting today and I don¡¯t want to wait until tomorrow to see you again.¡±

    Oh. Well. When he says it like that.

    Using my grip on his hand, I pull him to a stop. My other hand reaching up to smooth down the front of his shirt. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, sir.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 52

    My mind keeps wandering as I follow Vincent and his entourage through Marie¡¯s House. I did a walk through yesterday, so I¡¯m not as captivated by this tour as everyone else. Not to say that this ce isn¡¯t perfect. Because it¡¯s well on its way. It¡¯s just that this prolonged proximity to Vincent has my brain short circuiting. I know I¡¯m the one responsible for keeping our rtionship under wraps. If it were up to Vincent, he¡¯d probably put up a freaking billboard. But I stand by my decision. I¡¯m the one with a job on the line if this gets out.

    But being this close, and pretending that we don¡¯t know each other as intimately as we do¡­ It¡¯s killing me. Or at the very least, it¡¯s making me crazy. My dumb brain is suddenly questioning everything. I¡¯m ming Vincent. He¡¯s a skilled actor; I know he is. He has to be. Ever since we arrived here, his demeanor towards me has been coolly indifferent. He hasn¡¯t touched me. His eyes haven¡¯t lingered on my lips. He hasn¡¯t even addressed me since I introduced him to the journalist, Vanny. And it¡¯s driving me insane.

    And I feel even more insane for questioning him, us, since I spentst night in his home. Eating dinner with him and Annie. I know what we have is real. When I¡¯m with the two of them I feel so at home. So calm. I¡¯ve never really considered myself a kid person. Or someone who would like a domineering man-beast. But here I am. Loving every moment I have with them. I feel like maybe I should be rmed at how easily I¡¯ve integrated our lives, but I¡¯m too happy to worry about it.

    I¡¯m just d it¡¯s not the 90¡¯s anymore, when every phone nes with a limited number of minutes. Because the nights that I haven¡¯t spent at Vincent¡¯s house this week, I¡¯ve fallen asleep with him on speaker phone. Sometimes he only talks for a few minutes. Sometimes he climbs into his bed at the same time as me. Sometimes I simply listen to him typing. But it¡¯s working. I feelfortable in my apartment again. It¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s better. I don¡¯t need Eric to sleep outside my door anymore, and with Vincent¡¯s help I was able to convince Eric to use the guest bedroom rather than the couch. Eric might annoy me on asion, but he¡¯s been a decent roommate.

    Laughter breaks out in the crowd around Vincent and I catch myself clenching my fists. I know just about everyone here. They¡¯re all professionals. But I still feel the slimy tendrils of jealousy crawling over my skin.

    ¡°You asked for this.¡± I remind myself on a grumble.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Eric¡¯s voice sounds from right behind me.

    ¡°Jesus creeping Christ!¡± I whisper-shout at him, spinning around and pping a hand over my heart. ¡°Are you trying to kill me?¡±

    ¡°Literally the opposite.¡± Is his smartass reply.

    I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing pulse. ¡°Where the hell did youe from? I thought you were staying in the lobby.¡±

    ¡°Boss texted me. Asked that I keep a closer eye on you.¡±

    ¡°When?¡± I ask. We¡¯ve been on this tour for about half an hour and neither Vincent nor myself have left the group.

    ¡°About two minutes ago.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± I nce ahead to watch Vincent¡¯s back as he walks on. He must have messaged Eric while he was talking. ¡°Is he worried that Randal might show up here today?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Eric replies.

    ¡°Then why¡­¡± I trail off. There has to be a reason.

    Eric¡¯s phone chimes and he holds it up for me to read. Vincent just sent him another text. Stop questioning my men, sweetheart. I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning like a fool.

    Another chime. Let me get a look at you, then go to the lobby. Annie and my mom just arrived.

    I look up. And lock eyes with Vincent.

    He¡¯s maneuvered himself to face the small crowd, and me. He¡¯s still talking, but his eyes are locked on mine. No one seems to notice, but I can feel his gaze down to my bones. His head dips down in a nod. I¡¯m sure he made it seem natural in the conversation, but I know it¡¯s for me. He¡¯s so damn smooth, I want to poke him.

    Instead, I wink.

    His grin is immediate, and I swear two of the women lean towards him.

    I grab Eric¡¯s phone, and reply to Vincent¡¯sst text. If any of those hoochies touch you, she¡¯s losing her manicure.

    A second after I hit send, I hear Vincent bark out augh. Not wanting to give myself away, I spin on my heel and head towards the lobby.

    Vincent has poured money into this project. Even though they only just started, Marie¡¯s House is about half done with the remodel. The building was previously a hotel, in minor disrepair. The rooms are being renovated andbined to create one- and two-bedroom apartments. They¡¯ll house women and families, serving as transitional housing, until a more permanent situation can be arranged. Guests might stay for just a week or for several months. The idea is to be flexible.

    Vincent has already secured partnerships to furnish the apartments. There¡¯s also a space on the first floor that will act like a store with clothes, toiletries, and pantry items. All free of cost. A couple nights ago, when I was trying to fall asleep, Vincent told me about the logistical issues the designer is having with theyout of the store. All of the items will be donations, so it¡¯s hard to design permanent shelving when you don¡¯t know what you¡¯ll have week-to-week. But Vincent was adamant that it be set up like a store, not just a service counter. I¡¯m confident that his team is highly motivated to find a solution.

    ¡°Sasha!¡± Annie calls out, and I spot her waving from across the lobby.

    This area is mostlypleted. There¡¯s more artworking, but one wall is already covered in a mural of the Minneapolis skyline, painted by a local artist. There will be several photos in the article from Vincent¡¯s tour, but the shot that includes Annie will be taken in front of the mural. Vincent insisted that his mother join in the photograph as well. He wanted the three generations of Mazzantis together, presenting a united family image. Not to mention the fact that this facility is named after his mother.

    Marie joined us for dinner another night this week and I got to know her a little better. I already knew she was a kind and caring woman, but seeing her light up when she talked about Marie¡¯s House cemented that belief.

    ¡°Hey Annie!¡± I match her wide smile.

    ¡°Do you remember?¡± Annie asks, stopping directly in front of me.

    I¡¯m about to ask what she¡¯s talking about when she holds out her closed fist.

    I hold mine out as well. ¡°Of course, I do.¡±

    What I don¡¯t admit is that I practiced the moves in the mirror about a dozen times after I got homest night.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see.¡± She¡¯s still smiling, but I see the challenge in her eyes.

    I bump my fist to hers. Then my fist goes under hers to tap up. Then I¡¯m on top tapping down. Double bump. Single hand p. Then we tap the back of our hands together. Double hand p. Fist bump. Exploding fist bump.

    I throw my arms up in celebration, having gotten it right, and Annie tosses her head backughing.

    ¡°Oh my god, you did it!¡± She nearly shouts at me.

    ¡°Duh. Did you think I wouldn¡¯t?¡± I ask, full of bravado.

    She scrunches up her face at me and I dart forward acting like I¡¯m going to snag her hair.

    Annieughs again as she jumps back. ¡°Not the hair!¡±

    I grin. ¡°It looks great. Did your grandma do all those curls for you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I can do them myself, but she¡¯s a lot quicker.¡±

    ¡°I love it. And the outfit. You three are gonna look great together.¡±

    Annie is in dark wash jeans and a silky sky-blue blouse that makes her look closer to 16 than 11. She¡¯s stunning. With a nce at Marie, I see she¡¯s in flowy ck pants and an ivory top. I don¡¯t even need to see Vincent to be reminded how delicious and down to earth he looks in a pair of jeans and a dark grey sweater. They¡¯re all overdressed for the summer heat outside, but together they¡¯re going to look perfect.

    Annie shrugs. ¡°The shirt¡¯s a little fancy. Not sure when I¡¯ll wear it again.¡±

    ¡°Maybe to school?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    I step closer, dropping my voice so she knows this conversation is just for us. ¡°I know you¡¯ve talked about this with your dad already, but I just need to ask you one more time. Are you sure you¡¯re ready for this? To have everyone know who you are?¡±

    In a way that causes me far too much pride, Annie straightens her shoulders and raises her head. ¡°Yes.¡± That single syble would have been enough to make me believe her, but she continues. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hide who I am. I know why my dad had me use a different name at school. I get it. But I¡¯m not a little kid anymore. And I¡¯m proud of my family. I want people to know I¡¯m a Mazzanti. My friends won¡¯t care who my dad is. And anyone that does can go screw themselves.¡±

    Augh pops out of me, and I¡¯m grateful, since I was worried her words might¡¯ve had me crying. Which would¡¯ve just embarrassed us both.

    Annie grimaces. ¡°Don¡¯t tell Grandma I said that.¡±

    I use my finger to make an X on my chest. ¡°Cross my heart. Speaking of, I think they¡¯ll want to get started on the photoshoot soon.¡±

    ncing around I look for the second photographer who was supposed to be setting up the lights. I don¡¯t find the photographer, but I do find Vincent. Standing a few yards away. He has a serious look on his face and his eyes are bouncing between Annie and myself. Angelo is standing with him, but they don¡¯t appear to be talking. I think Angelo is just there to deter anyone from approaching them.

    ¡°Hey, dad.¡± Annie waves and Vincent¡¯s face morphs into a soft smile.

    His long legs cross the distance quickly. ¡°Hi Princess.¡± Vincent steps up and tugs on one of Annie¡¯s curls. ¡°You look pretty.¡±

    Annie rolls her eyes. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Leaving his hand on Annie¡¯s shoulder, he turns his attention to me, cing his free hand on the small of my back. ¡°You look pretty, too.¡±

    Resisting the urge to swoon, I mimic Annie and roll my eyes. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Annie giggles.

    ¡°This is cute. You two thinking you can gang up on me.¡± Vincent says sarcastically, pulling Annie into his side.

    She squirms. ¡°We can gang up on you. We¡¯re girls. We can do whatever we want. Right, Sasha?¡±

    Annie¡¯s attitude gives me a jolt of added tenderness towards the girl. She¡¯ll need that. ¡°You¡¯re goddamn right we can.¡±

    Vincent grins and I can feel his thumb trailing circles on my spine. ¡°d my daughter has yet another strong-willed woman to show her how to survive in this world.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re goddamn right.¡± Annie replies.

    Anotherugh bursts out of me and I p a hand over my mouth. Sometimes I forget how young she is and that maybe I shouldn¡¯t be swearing in front of her. Vincent seems to be amused, so I¡¯m not going to stress over it.

    ¡°Um, sir?¡± A female voice interrupts us.

    We all look up to find one of the women from the PR team a few feet away.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Vincent slips seamlessly into his no-nonsense work voice.

    ¡°The photographers are ready for you and your family.¡± The woman, Amanda, keeps darting quick nces to me. I¡¯m not pressed into Vincent¡¯s side, which is good, but that means she can see his arm extended out behind me. And even though it¡¯s blocked by my body, I¡¯m sure she can guess that his hand is on my back.

    Schooling my features, I make sure not to move. Stepping away would signal guilt. And moving closer to him would make me look like a possessive bitch. So I just blink and turn my attention to Annie.

    ¡°You ready?¡± I ask her.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Her smile is a little dimmer, but she¡¯s putting on a brave front. ¡°You wannae say hi to my grandma before we start?¡±

    I¡¯m not sure how quickly they want them lined up, but I¡¯ll take any opportunity to get out of this awkward moment.

    I extend my hand to Annie. ¡°Sure.¡± She¡¯s far too old to need to hold hands while walking across a room, but she takes it anyways.

    I can feel Amanda¡¯s eyes burning into me as we step away.

    Annie gives my hand a little tug. ¡°We don¡¯t need to actually talk to grandma. I just figured you wanted to get away from thatdy.¡±

    ¡°Oh, um, Amanda is a nice person.¡±

    Annie huffs. ¡°Sure she is. But you don¡¯t want her knowing about you and Dad, right?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡± Fuck. How am I supposed to handle this? I pull Annie to a stop and crouch down so we can talk in a whisper. ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t want your dad¡¯s employees to know that¡­¡± I pause.

    ¡°You guys are dating.¡± She supplies.

    I exhale, time to just be truthful. ¡°Exactly. It¡¯s not that I¡¯m embarrassed about it. Or that I want to hide how much I adore spending time with you both. It¡¯s just that I have to work with all of these people, and¡­¡± I almost say sleeping with the boss ¡°dating the boss will make the rest of them treat me differently.¡±

    Annie nods. ¡°I understand. They might think that dad would y favorites or something.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± I say with a smile.

    ¡°Are you guys going to always keep it a secret?¡±

    My heart aches a little at how she uses the word always so easily. Like Vincent and I will just always be together.

    I shake my head. ¡°No. Not always. Do you know that I work for a differentpany?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Annie asks.

    ¡°I work at Minnesota Rtions and my job is to helppanies, like your dad¡¯s, when they need it. I¡¯m a Public Rtions Consultant which means I came to work with Mazzanti Enterprises to help with stuff like this.¡± I gesture around the room. ¡°And after the g next week my assignment will be done.¡±

    Annie¡¯s face drops. ¡°So you¡¯re leaving?¡±

    ¡°No. Not at all. I live here, remember?¡± She nods. ¡°But once my assignment with Mazzanti Enterprises is over with, I won¡¯t have to work with your dad¡¯s employees anymore. Then we can be open about our rtionship.¡±

    Annie seems to mull over my words for a moment. ¡°Are you not supposed to be dating?¡±

    It¡¯s my turn to consider her question. I know the answer. I want to lie, but why start now.

    ¡°Well, not exactly.¡±

    Annie grins. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    Now I feel like an asshole. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to lie for me. Lying isn¡¯t good.¡±

    This earns me a ssic Annie eye roll. ¡°Ugh, whatever. It¡¯s stupid that you have to pretend like you don¡¯t like each other. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re really doing anything bad. It¡¯s other people that are being dumb if they can¡¯t just deal with it. I won¡¯t feel bad about lying. Plus, I¡¯m just a kid. What do I know?¡± She bats hershes at me.

    ¡°Oh my god!¡± Iugh. ¡°You¡¯re devious.¡±

    Annie grins. ¡°Duh.¡±

    Rising, I give her shoulder a shove. ¡°Come on, you sneaky girl, let¡¯s get your photo taken.¡±

    Annie doesn¡¯t resist and we walk side by side over to where her grandmother is talking to the photographer. I greet Marie with a smile and a wave, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

    ¡°Have fun.¡± I whisper to Annie, and she replies with a bored look.

    I don¡¯t think anyone can make me smile quite as much as that girl can. She¡¯s so smart, and funny, and far more perceptive than people give her credit for. Remembering her snarky thoughts about interoffice romance has my smile growing evenrger as I step away.

    Figuring I¡¯ll find a wall to nt myself against, I turn towards the back of the room and spot Cheryl, my boss.

    She¡¯s facing my direction, talking to Amanda. Shit. Is Amanda telling her how close Vincent and I were? Amanda was one of the women on the tour fanning herself over every word that came out of Vincent¡¯s mouth. I don¡¯t know her well enough to know if she¡¯d rat me out. And I don¡¯t know how long Cheryl¡¯s been here. Did she see Vincent and I together? Did she watch me with Annie just now? Were we being overly familiar? I think back to the intricate fist bump greeting that Annie and I shared, and cringe.

    Cheryl¡¯s still speaking to Amanda, but her gaze finds mine. When her cheeks tip up into a smile, I force my body to unfreeze. A smile is a good sign. Right? Fuck it, it doesn¡¯t matter. I can¡¯t avoid her.

    When I get a few paces away, Cheryl raises a hand in wee. ¡°Sasha, how¡¯s the day been?¡±

    ¡°Hi Cheryl. It¡¯s going well!¡± Stopping, I create a triangle between the three of us and give Amanda a nod in greeting. ¡°Yourself?¡±

    Cheryl waves away my question. ¡°Good, good. Sounds like you have everything under control here.¡±

    Amanda makes a small sound in her throat, and it takes all my willpower to stop myself from shooting her a re. She was never my favorite person on the team. Now I know why. Because she¡¯s a bitch.

    I keep my focus on Cheryl. ¡°Thanks. The team did a lot of work on this.¡± There, I threw stupid Amanda a bone. ¡°When Vanny told me that she wanted to bring a second photographer, we went with it.¡± I gesture over to where the trio of Mazzantis were being arranged in front of the mural. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll take a variety of shots, but it should wrap up quickly. I know Vin- Mr. Mazzanti has another meeting this afternoon that he needs to get to.¡±

    I will my face not to flush. I don¡¯t know if calling him Vincent is okay or not, but correcting myself did nothing but call attention to my mistake.

    Cheryl makes a nomittal humming sound before addressing Amanda. ¡°Amanda dear, would you mind finding the journalist and sending her my way? I¡¯d like a moment before she heads out.¡±

    ¡°Sure can!¡± Amanda beams at Cheryl, sliding me a side eye before prancing away.

    I remind myself that pping a co-worker is a bad idea. Vincent¡¯s wordse to my mind; I¡¯ll tell them to be nice to you. My inner self scoffs, if only it were that easy.

    ¡°So¡­¡± Cheryl drags out the word, and I feel my stomach drop to my feet. ¡°That Annie is quite the little girl, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    I feel like this is a trap and I have to swallow before replying. ¡°She sure is. If the family business is what she wants to do, I¡¯ve no doubt she¡¯ll be able to run it with her eyes closed.¡±

    Cheryl¡¯s eyes remain on me. ¡°She seemed prettyfortable talking to you. I take it you¡¯ve met before this.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ve met a few times. She¡¯s really easy to get along with.¡± Not a lie.

    ¡°And Vincent?¡±

    I don¡¯t presume that her use of his first name is a mistake. ¡°Uh, he¡¯s also easy to get along with.¡±

    I wish a shovel into existence so I can dig myself a hole to die in.

    ¡°Miss rk.¡± Eric¡¯s voice breaks into the building awkwardness.

    I nearly sigh in relief as I turn towards the approaching man. ¡°Eric, this is Cheryl Morris, owner of Minnesota Rtions, and my boss. Cheryl, this is Eric.¡±

    Ever the businesswoman, Cheryl extends her hand. ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Eric.¡±

    ¡°Likewise, ma¡¯am.¡± His face is as serious as always. ¡°Sorry to intrude, but can I borrow Miss rk for a few moments?¡±

    Eric looks exactly like the bodyguard that he is. What possible issue I could help him with, I have no idea. But I¡¯ll take whatever escape I can at this point.

    I don¡¯t wait for Cheryl¡¯s approval. ¡°Of course, Eric.¡± I give Cheryl a smile as I step away. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up with youter.¡±

    Her eyes narrow, ever so slightly. ¡°Alright. Take care, Sasha.¡±

    Pretending that sendoff wasn¡¯t ominous, I turn and match my stride to Eric¡¯s.

    We make it out of the lobby and halfway down the main hall before I feel like I can breathe again. ¡°So, what do you need me for?¡±

    Eric nces at me. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    My steps slow. ¡°Nothing?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. As in the absence of something.¡±

    I groan. ¡°Thanks for the English lesson. But really, you don¡¯t need something?¡±

    He slows before turning into a fully furnished lounge. ¡°Boss texted me, told me to rescue you from thedy you were talking to. So that¡¯s what I did.¡±

    ¡°He¡­ What?¡± The question is rhetorical. I heard what he said. I drop into the nearest armchair. ¡°Is there anything he doesn¡¯t see?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t count on it, ma¡¯am.¡±

    Maybe it¡¯s the ma¡¯am. Maybe it¡¯s the overbearing nature of my new boyfriend. Maybe it¡¯s the close call with my boss. Whatever the straw, it snaps. Myugh is so sudden and loud that Eric startles. Which just makes meugh harder. I can¡¯t stop. I bury my face in my hands, bent over with my elbows on my knees,ughing my ass off.

    This is my life now. I have a millionaire, possibly billionaire, boyfriend¡­ whose privileged position leaves him delusional about everyday life for us normal people. Who uses his influence to get whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. He doesn¡¯t put up with any bullshit. He doesn¡¯t tolerate mediocrity. His nickname for years has been Mr. Sin. And ¨C true or not ¨C he has a yboy reputation. He¡¯s fiercely protective of anything he deems his. And, somehow, he¡¯s put me into that category. He fucks me with an animalistic fervor. He loves his family with a tenderness that still shocks me. And he always finds a way to make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

    Myughter slows as my thoughts really sink in.

    I¡¯m fully,pletely, entirely, head over heels, soul-be-damned, in love with Vincent Mazzanti.

    Shit.

    I exhale a deep breath, keeping my face in my hands. I knew this was happening. I knew I was falling for him. And yet it still feels like a revtion. Like a surprise.

    I won¡¯t tell him. Not yet. That¡¯s not how these things work. This is the sort of thing you y close to the vest. The sort of feeling you let out in small doses. Small hints until you¡¯re certain the other person will return the words.

    I know Vincent cares about me, but I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s ready for love. If I¡¯m being honest, knowing his history, he might never be ready. The thought doesn¡¯t hurt as much as I expected it to. There¡¯s no rush. We have all the time in the world.

    I hear footsteps a second before I hear Angelo¡¯s gravelly voice. ¡°Did you break her? Vincent¡¯s not gonna like that.¡±

    Eric doesn¡¯t reply, and I imagine him shrugging his shoulders and looking at me like I¡¯m crazy.

    Wiping my fingers under my eyes, I sit up. ¡°Not broken.¡±

    Angelo gives me a once over. ¡°If you say so.¡± He ims a seat on the open couch across from me. ¡°They¡¯re about done out there. Vin said he¡¯d meet us here.¡±

    ¡°Oh, if everyone is leaving, I should go back out there.¡± I say, making no move to actually get up.

    ¡°Negative.¡± Angelo smirks. ¡°I stuck Vin¡¯s mama on your boss. She¡¯ll ask her to walk her out to her car and probably spend the whole time talking about how brilliant you are.¡± When I don¡¯t reply, he raises his eyebrows. ¡°You¡¯re wee.¡±

    ¡°But what if¡­¡±

    He cuts me off. I wasn¡¯t sure a mountain could eye roll, but Angelo executes one like he was taught by Annie herself. ¡°Marie knows to keep the rtionship under wraps.¡±

    ¡°Huh, alright. Thank you, Angelo.¡± I concede.

    A handnds on the back of my neck. ¡°That¡¯s why all the girls called him Angel when we were kids.¡±

    Vincent. His scent flows over me a second before he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

    ¡°Fuck off, Vinny. It wasn¡¯t angel they called me. It was God. As in oh god you¡¯re so good.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh, keep telling yourself that.¡± Vincent says, while sitting on the armrest of my chair. He tips his face down to look at me. ¡°Hi, sweetheart. How¡¯s your day going?¡±

    ¡°Noints.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Vincent gives my neck a gentle squeeze then nces at the guys. ¡°Can you give us a moment?¡±

    Angelo and Eric leave without protest, shutting the door behind them.

    Vincent reaches his free hand out, using his thumb to trace my jaw. ¡°So damn pretty.¡± His words are so quiet, it¡¯s like he didn¡¯t mean to say them out loud.

    His thumb stops at my chin, holding my face still as he bends forward and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft and sweet and over far too quickly.

    ¡°I have to go.¡±

    I don¡¯t remember closing my eyes, but they slip back open. ¡°Go?¡±

    Vincent rests his forehead against mine. ¡°Yeah,¡¯ he sighs out the word. ¡°The building I¡¯m buying in New York needs some in-person attention.¡±

    I remember him reading to me about this purchase one night when I was falling asleep.

    ¡°Okay. For how long?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Not sure. A few days at least.¡±

    ¡°When do you leave?¡±

    ¡°Now.¡±

    The sense of tremendous loss floods me. It¡¯s an overreaction. And embarrassing. And I feel like I might cry.

    He¡¯s not leaving me, I remind myself, he¡¯s just leaving town.

    Vincent stands and pulls me up into a hug.

    ¡°I know, baby. I don¡¯t want me to go either.¡± His fingers trail down my back. ¡°Promise you¡¯ll call me every night, so I can talk you to sleep?¡±

    ¡°Promise.¡± I whisper.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 53

    ¡°I was beginning to think that you were actually butting out of my life.¡± I joke, as I answer my brother¡¯s phone call.

    He scoffs. ¡°I¡¯ve been getting my information straight from Eric.¡±

    ¡°Wow. ssy, John.¡±

    ¡°What? He doesn¡¯t fuck around with small talk and I can actually get straight answers from him.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Whatever.¡± Is my mature response.

    John¡¯s voice turns serious. ¡°How are you? Really?¡±

    I¡¯m mildly depressed. I miss Vincent. He¡¯s been gone for four days, and even though I talk to him every night when I go to bed, I can¡¯t drop this wing need to see him. But I know that¡¯s not what my brother is asking about. He wants to know how I¡¯m doing after the break-in.

    ¡°I¡¯m okay. It¡¯s still a little weird to think about someone being in my ce. Like, really weird. And creepy. But I¡¯m never alone. Eric might be annoying at times.¡± The man in question slides a look to me across the backseat of the car. ¡°¡­ but he makes me feel safe.¡±

    Eric replies with his best imitation of an approving look.

    ¡°Good. And how¡¯s the training going?¡±

    My body aches just at the question. ¡°It sucks. But since you already know about my torture sessions, then I¡¯m sure you already know that I¡¯m terrible.¡±

    ¡°No one expected you to be Chuck Norris on your first day of self-defense training. What matters is that you¡¯re learning. You don¡¯t need to be able to take down a bad guy, you just need to create an opening to get away.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Fleeing like a little chicken is precisely what Eric and his band of tormentors are teaching me.¡±

    John isn¡¯t wrong. I don¡¯t n on being able to fight anyone. I didn¡¯t even n to take these stupid sses. But of course, Vincent doesn¡¯t care what I think, not when ites to my safety. He had this all arranged before his flight even left for New York. And rather than warn me, he just gave Eric orders to bring me to some dumb gym the next morning.

    So, I spent the weekend getting my ass handed to me by a pair of high-dor trainers. And each day after work, I finish the day with Eric and his sidekick of choice, in a gym that I didn¡¯t even realize was down the hall from my office.

    John ignores my whining. ¡°I have some guys that can fill in if Eric needs extra help or some time off. Vincent already knows this, but I wanted you to know too. And I have some feelers out there for that piece of shit Randal. We¡¯ll catch him, sis.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I sigh. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯tin. I¡¯m lucky to have so many people who care about me.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¡­ I don¡¯t want you thinking that it¡¯s just your boyfriend working on this.¡± John¡¯s tone speaks to the distrust he still has for Vincent.

    He wasn¡¯t thrilled about my involvement with Vincent from the beginning, and then you add on the psychotic uncle, it¡¯s a bit understandable that John isn¡¯t a fan. I wish he¡¯d give Vincent a chance, but I don¡¯t feel like arguing about it now.

    I change the subject. ¡°How¡¯s work going?¡±

    ¡°Fine. Nothing exciting.¡± John¡¯s code for no undercover work.

    ¡°That¡¯s good. And outside of work? Any unluckydies?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re hrious.¡± He deadpans.

    Iugh. ¡°I see why you and Eric get along so well. You two are the same exact person.¡± I tick off the reasons on my fingers. ¡°You think you have all the answers. Smiling is a chore. Work is everything. You have no sense of humor. You-¡±

    My phone is plucked from my hand.

    ¡°Hey!¡± I protest.

    Eric holds the phone to his ear furthest away from me. ¡°Hi John, I think I need to confiscate your sister¡¯s phone. For security reasons.¡± There¡¯s a pause as I imagine my brother replying. ¡°I knew you¡¯d understand. Yep. Have a good evening.¡±

    Eric hangs up the call, hesitating only a moment before handing my phone back.

    I give him my best re.

    ¡°We¡¯re here, ma¡¯am.¡± The driver says, pulling to the curb.

    Any hint of joking leaves Eric¡¯s face. ¡°Wait for me.¡±

    It¡¯s not like he needs to tell me. Every. Single. Time. But he does. And I might like to push his buttons, but I won¡¯t mess around with his actual bodyguard stuff. I think it¡¯s ridiculous, but I¡¯ve learned to just let it happen.

    When my door is pulled open, the smell of roasting meats and Mexican spices fill the air.

    Climbing out of the car, I smile.

    ¡°It¡¯s been too long,¡± I tell the front door of Salty Limes.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 54

    It only took one-and-a-half margaritas before Jessica started to ask me about Vincent. And it only took one, and a half more for me to spill all the sordid details.

    I¡¯ve always liked Jessica, and we¡¯ve been ¡®work friends¡¯ for years, but I think tonight brought our friendship to a new level. She¡¯s just so easy-going, without a single judgmental bone in her body. I can honestly admit that I¡¯m happy she found us at BeanBag the other morning. I feel so much lighter after talking to her.

    And drunker. Holy fuckballs, I¡¯m feeling drunker.

    ¡°Babe¡­¡± Jessica draws the word out as we stumble our way into the backseat of my chauffeured car. ¡°This ride is pimpin¡¯!¡±

    We both crack up.

    ¡°Who says pimpin¡¯ anymore?¡± I snicker.

    She shrugs. ¡°I dunno. Who rides around with a driver and a bodyguard anymore?¡±

    I hum in agreement. ¡°Good point.¡±

    Eric shuts the door behind me and slides into the front passenger seat. He¡¯s stone cold sober, of course. On the job, and all that. Thankfully, we were able to convince him to sit a few tables away so we could talk in private. He was a good sport about it. And a good sport when I asked if we could give Jessica a ride home.

    The driver doesn¡¯t even bat an eye with the addition of a new drunk person in the car. I should thank him, but I don¡¯t recognize him. The drivers seem to shift a lot, but they¡¯ve all been kind.

    Jessica leans forward between the seats, pouting lower lip on disy. ¡°Why are you sitting way up there, Kevin?¡±

    Eric¡¯s mouth opens and closes, clearly unsure if he should correct her.

    I sumb to another round of giggles and attempt a whisper to Jessica. ¡°It¡¯s Eric, not Kevin.¡±

    Jessica throws her hands up, nearly clocking me in the face. ¡°I know that. Bute on. The Bodyguard. Whitney Houston. Kevin Costner.¡±

    ¡°I never saw it,¡± I admit. ¡°But Eric isn¡¯t my love interest. Vincent is.¡±

    Jessica sighs dramatically. ¡°Work with me girl. In my fantasy, I¡¯m Whitney Houston.¡±

    I can¡¯t help myself. ¡°Isn¡¯t she dead?¡±

    Jessica gapes at me in horror. ¡°Oh my god, too soon! And I wouldn¡¯t be dead if stud muffin Eric Costner up there did his job and bodyguarded me!¡±

    She can only fake her outrage for a second, before we¡¯re both a mess ofughter. This,dies and gentlemen, is what sloppy drunk looks like.

    A throat clears from the front seat. ¡°Miss, can you tell me your address?¡± Eric asks, still facing straight ahead.

    Miss? Jessica mouths to me with a grin, before rattling off her address. And she¡¯s right to be pleased. I¡¯d take miss any day over being called ma¡¯am.

    I¡¯m not sure if the drive was super short, or if my drunkenness made me lose track of time, but, sooner than expected ¨C the car pulls over in front of Jessica¡¯s house. It¡¯s a cute little bungalow with an abundance of flowers pouring from every corner of her tiny yard.

    ¡°Oh wow! Your flowers are amazing!¡± I make a move to unbuckle my seatbelt.

    Eric turns in his seat to look at me. ¡°You¡¯re staying here.¡±

    ¡°But, her garden¡­¡±

    He raises a hand. ¡°I¡¯m sure her garden is lovely.¡± Jessica and I both start to snicker, and I see Eric¡¯s jaw tick. ¡°It¡¯s getting dark, and I need to get you home.¡±

    Jessica pulls me in for a hug, but we¡¯re both still buckled in so it¡¯s more of a lean. ¡°We¡¯ll have a girls¡¯ day soon and you can y in my garden all you want. The boys can sit on the sidewalk and guard the perimeter. And serve us mimosas.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± I grin.

    Jessica¡¯s door opens and Eric stands there with his hand out. With great concentration, Jessica unclips herself and climbs out of the car.

    Eric looks like he¡¯s going to walk her to her door, and when Jessica sways and tips against him, I realize his actions might be just as much out of necessity as chivalry.

    Before he steps away Eric leans into the car. ¡°Stay put.¡± Then to the driver he says, ¡°Lock the doors.¡±

    Watching the two of them walk away, I think about how much calmer I feel. I hadn¡¯t realized my emotions were quite so tumultuous. It makes sense though. After retelling the tale, I think I¡¯m finallyprehending just how much has happened. It feels like that night in Vegas, with Mr. Idiot osting me in the bar, was a lifetime ago. But really it wasn¡¯t. Then I didn¡¯t see Vincent again for another month, which of course turned into quite the collision. Followed up with a whole bunch of sexual tension. Some illicit encounters. The introduction of a daughter I didn¡¯t even know he had. And suddenly, I¡¯m knee deep in family life. Talking about periods. Watching movies. Having dinner with his mother. Toss in a dose of breaking-and-entering, a 24/7 bodyguard, and keeping my rtionship a secret from my boss, and you have the perfect recipe for a mental breakdown.

    And yet, I don¡¯t feel like breaking down at all. I feel¡­ happy. I feel a level of happiness that I hadn¡¯t known I was missing. I wasn¡¯t unhappy before all of this. At least, I don¡¯t think I was. But I definitely wasn¡¯t living my best life. That¡¯s the thing about people. They bringplications and heartache and stress. But they also bring joy and pleasure and purpose. I still feel like me, but I feel more. I feelplete.

    The dome light turning on announces Eric¡¯s return to the car. He¡¯s silent, and even more still than usual. And I wonder just how long I zoned out, and just how long he was in the house with Jessica.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 55

    Pacing my hotel room, I nce at my watch for what feels like the hundredth time. Sasha should have called me by now. Eric should have checked in by now. I clench my jaw and resist the urge to dial. I¡¯ve never had someone that I talk to every day, just for the sake of talking. Where the whole purpose is to hear her voice. It¡¯s foreign, and yet somehow feels so normal. Not talking to Sasha doesn¡¯t even feel like an option. She calms me.

    I nce at the clock again.

    She sent me a text before she left for dinner with Jessica, but even with the hour time difference it¡¯ste enough that she should be home by now. I¡¯m sure things just went long. If they¡¯re anything like my mother when she¡¯s out with her friends, they could talk for hours.

    That has me calming a small amount. Sasha has had a lot happen over the past few weeks. I want to think that she can talk to me about anything, but ¨C in truth ¨C most of those things revolve around me. And for some reason, picturing Sasha talking to one of her friends about me, about us, has me calming further. She deserves a night out. And once her contract with Mazzanti Enterprises is over, I¡¯ll take her out on a proper date.

    I understand Sasha¡¯s reasoning for keeping us a secret. I do. As much as I think it¡¯s bullshit, I ept that our rtionship could have repercussions for her. But I wasn¡¯t lying when I told her I don¡¯t want her going on to another assignment. I don¡¯t want her working for another rich prick. Not that I think she¡¯ll be unfaithful. I just don¡¯t trust men. I don¡¯t trust that they¡¯ll treat her with the respect she deserves. She shouldn¡¯t have to put up with that shit. If she¡¯s out of my sight all day, I¡¯ll do nothing but worry to the point of causing a scene. It¡¯s not a trait I¡¯m proud of, but I¡¯m self-aware enough to admit the truth of it.

    Luckily, I have some ideas that will keep her close to me.

    My rxed fa?ade crumbles the second my phone rings. Like a lovesick teen, I lunge to answer.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± I say in greeting.

    ¡°Mmm. Hi Vincent.¡± Sasha purrs into the phone.

    My dick reacts to the throaty voice before my brain registers that something is different. Her words are a little slurred. Then it hits me. She¡¯s drunk.

    ¡°Hi, sweetheart. Let me call you right back.¡± I say.

    ¡°Oh.¡± She sounds crestfallen. ¡°You¡¯ll call back?¡±

    ¡°Right back.¡± I reply.

    Hanging up, I immediately dial Eric¡¯s number.

    I should have left Angelo in Minneapolis to cover Sasha alongside Eric. Eric¡¯s good, but she¡¯s mine. And he let her go out and get drunk. In public. What the fuck was he thinking?

    ¡°Evening, boss.¡± Eric greets me.

    ¡°Status report.¡± I say, tone hard.

    ¡°Just finished my review of the security cams and my check-in with the man on the street. No action at Home Base to report on.¡±

    ¡°No action, except for Sasha being drunk. Exin.¡± I know I¡¯m being an asshole. But I don¡¯t fucking care.

    Eric is used to my attitude by now and doesn¡¯t change his professional demeanor. ¡°We met Sasha¡¯s friend Jessica at the restaurant. At my request they moved to a table of my choice. I sat where I could see the front and rear exits. Driver stayed parked out front. I don¡¯t think Sasha realizes that the drivers are a part of her security crew yet.¡±

    ¡°Good. I don¡¯t n to tell her.¡±

    Eric continues. ¡°After we met Jessica in that coffee shop, I had a feeling they would probably talk for a long time. I also had a feeling they¡¯d drink. I pre-arranged for three in clothes guards to be in the restaurant. Two at a table between the girls and the door. The other at the bar with eyes on the girls. They tailed us back to Home Base. We detoured to bring Jessica home at Sasha¡¯s request. She never suspected the watchers. I¡¯m sure she would¡¯ve said something if she did.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± I take a moment to think through Eric¡¯s n, and I have to admit that I¡¯m impressed. ¡°Good work.¡±

    I hang up. Eric¡¯s not in this job for the praise.

    Sasha picks up after two rings. ¡°Hey, boyfriend.¡± Any hard feelings from me cutting her off earlier are clearly forgotten.

    A smile pulls on my lips. ¡°Hey, girlfriend.¡± I hear crunching. ¡°Are you eating?¡±

    ¡°Just some crackers.¡± Her words are distorted by food, and ¨C instead of being unpleasant ¨C it¡¯s adorable. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t eat after brushing my teeth, but I need these puppies to soak up some of the tequ.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, not a bad idea.¡± I agree, wishing I were with her right now.

    ¡°Plus, Captain likes the crackers, too. Don¡¯t ya, Cap?¡± Sasha giggles and I swear I hear her cat meow in agreement. ¡°He doesn¡¯t want to be hungover tomorrow either.¡±

    ¡°I bet. I can probably get your boss to let you have tomorrow off.¡±

    ¡°Oh really, you know Cheryl?¡± Sasha asks. A momentter she breaks down intoughter.

    This girl. God, she¡¯s cute.

    The sound gets muffled, and I imagine her dropping her phone onto the bed. I close my eyes andy on my own bed, pretending I¡¯m with her.

    When Sashaes back, I swear I can feel her smile through the phone. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m a little bit drunk. But I¡¯m ming Jessica. She¡¯s such a bad influence. And fun. And she¡¯s super understanding. I think she might be my best friend. Or, well, I think I¡¯d like her to be. I should probably tell her that, right? Is that how you do that?¡±

    I know Sasha, so I don¡¯t know why ites as a surprise that she might not have a lot of friends. I think back through her background check and our conversations. She¡¯s close with her brother, but that¡¯s it. Parents deceased. No other family. She throws herself into her job. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s ever mentioned anyone outside of work by name. Aside from Jason, her needle dick ex.

    Unaware of the direction my thoughts have turned, Sasha carries on. ¡°You probably don¡¯t have that problem. Everyone wants to be your friend. Like that bitch Amanda. But you don¡¯t need anyone else. Plus, you¡¯ve had Angelo since, like, forever.¡±

    ¡°Did you just call me old?¡± I tease. ¡°And who¡¯s that bitch Amanda?¡±

    ¡°You are old. And Amanda is nobody. And as long as you remember that, you¡¯ll get to keep your pretty eyes in your head where they belong.¡±

    I chuckle. ¡°Who¡¯s the gangster now?¡±

    Sasha sighs into the phone. ¡°I wish you weren¡¯t so far away.¡±

    ¡°I know, baby. I¡¯ll be home soon.¡±

    ¡°Want to know a secret?¡± She whispers.

    ¡°Always.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sleeping with your shirt.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember leaving a shirt at your ce.¡± She¡¯s silent. ¡°Sasha, did you steal it from me?¡± I can¡¯t stop myself from needling her. ¡°Sasha are you a little thief now?¡±

    A loud exhale floods the speaker. ¡°It¡¯s your shirt from Vegas.¡±

    It takes me a moment to catch on to what she¡¯s saying. Vegas? As in the first night we met. The first time we slept together.

    I smile when ites back to me. ¡°My T-shirt?¡±

    Sasha makes a humming sound.

    ¡°I figured you took it to wear back to your room. I didn¡¯t realize you kept it.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± She mumbles. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t have taken it, but it was so soft. And it smelled like you. I wanted a way to remember you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, baby. I¡¯m d you have it.¡± The thought of her hugging my shirt while she sleeps causes my chest to warm. But the idea that what we have could have started and ended that night makes my heart ache. ¡°Why don¡¯t you put me on speaker and set the phone down. If you insist on going to work tomorrow, you should get some sleep.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± I hear shuffling, followed by the click of hermp turning off. ¡°I¡¯m in bed now.¡±

    ¡°Covers up to your chin?¡± I ask, knowing her penchant for burying herself in nkets.

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Captain already fast asleep, or is he still eating your crackers?¡±

    I smile at the movement I hear. She¡¯s checking.

    ¡°He¡¯s asleep.¡±

    ¡°Alright, sweetheart. Leave the phone on. I¡¯ll hang up when I know you¡¯re sleeping.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Goodnight, Vincent. I¡­¡±

    My eyes fly open. My heart starts beating faster than it did a second ago. ¡°You what, Sasha?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I hope you sleep well.¡±

    That¡¯s not what she was going to say.

    ¡°You, too.¡± I murmur. ¡°Now close your eyes.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure how long Iy here, listening to the sound of her breathing. Her. My Sasha. My girlfriend. The woman who almost said I love you. She stopped herself. She caught it before it was out. But that¡¯s what she was going to say. I fucking know it.

    I wasn¡¯t expecting it. I also wasn¡¯t expecting the feeling I¡¯m experiencing now. I feel a sense of yearning. I want her to say it. I want to hear her say those words to me.

    With my eyes still closed, I ponder how that¡¯s possible. Do I love her back?

    And, with thoughts of love, I slide into sleep. But instead of bringing me answers, my sleep only brings memories.

    I fall out of the car,nding at my dad¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Dad!¡± My ears are still ringing but I can hear my voice enough to know that I¡¯m sobbing. ¡°Dad!¡±

    I crawl up towards his head, chunks of ss cutting into my palms.

    There¡¯s a second spot of blood on his shirt. This one lower, in his stomach. The blood isn¡¯t spreading, and I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s good or bad.

    Dad¡¯s hand reaches out for me. I grip his fingers as tight as I can. As I look up at his face. He¡¯s pale. Too pale.

    ¡°Dad. What do I do? I don¡¯t know what to do?¡±

    His fingers grip mine back. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay.¡±

    I beg for help, as I watch the life leave his eyes.

    With a jerk, I wake.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± I mutter into the darkness willing my heart to slow.

    Rolling onto my side I see the call with Sasha is still open. Her soft breaths sounding through the phone. Instead of hanging up, I pull the phone closer. My dad¡¯s final words whisper through my mind as I close my eyes again.

    It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m okay.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 56

    ¡°Eric,e on. For real?¡±

    He blinks at me in that infuriating way he always does. ¡°Yes, for real. Now let¡¯s go.¡±

    I drop my arms to my side as I tilt my office chair dangerously far back. ¡°Can¡¯t we take one day off?¡± I whine. ¡°I¡¯m finally not feeling hungover anymore, but if you make me practice those flipping around moves again, I¡¯ll probably puke.¡±

    The nk look on Eric¡¯s face indicates that he¡¯s not moved by my statement.

    Seriously, I¡¯m going to kill Jessica for peer pressuring me into thatst round of margaritasst night. I think I said something to Vincent about her being my best friend, but I need to detox before I start feeling any love towards her again.

    Love. I inwardly groan at the reminder. I might¡¯ve been drunk, but at least I was conscious enough to catch myself before drunkenly telling Vincent I love him. I fell asleep mortified and can only hope my transition on the phone was believable and that Vincent will never bring it up. Ever.

    Eric opens my office door. ¡°The sooner we get to the gym, the sooner we¡¯ll be done and the sooner you can go home.¡±

    I make sure to give Eric my best re as I grab the small duffle bag out from under my desk. At least the gym on this floor is private. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s Vincent¡¯s doing, but I¡¯ve never seen anyone else in there. It¡¯s not excessively big but it¡¯s high end with the basics and a decent sized open space with rubber flooring. The perfect setting for Eric to kick my ass under the guise of teaching me self-defense.

    I follow Eric down the hall to the gym. The small que above the door is the only indication that it exists. There are none of those stupid windows into the hallway that a lot of hotel gyms have, which is a plus. I can¡¯t imagineing to work out over lunch only to have my coworkers watch me bounce along on a treadmill. And if anyone does use this during the day, it must be soundproofed because I¡¯ve never heard so much as a dumbbell ng.

    Eric holds the door open and I step inside.

    Opening my mouth to say something snarky, my breath catches as my steps freeze.

    The room isn¡¯t empty today.

    The evening sun gleams through the wall of windows, silhouetting a body I¡¯d recognize anywhere.

    ¡°Vincent?¡± I whisper his name like a question, even as a smile takes over my features.

    He takes a step towards me as I hear the door click shut behind me.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± His voice soaks into my being.

    I want to run to him. Can I do that? Is that too much?

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I ask, stunned.

    He steps closer. ¡°Disappointed?¡±

    I know he¡¯s teasing me, but I can¡¯t even pretend to y along. I drop my bag on the floor and hurry to close the distance between us, mming my body into his.

    Vincent¡¯s arms band around me, holding me tight. The scent of him envelops me and I breathe it in, weing thefort. His breath against my hair tells me he¡¯s doing the same thing.

    ¡°I thought you weren¡¯ting home until tomorrow.¡± I speak the words into his chest, hugging him back.

    ¡°I was gone long enough.¡±

    Vincent shifts and then his mouth is on mine. It¡¯s hot and iming but still gentle. His hands are framing my face, holding me still.

    It¡¯s sweet. But I want more.

    A swipe of my tongue has his mouth opening, and I pull his bottom lip between my teeth. I keep my bite soft, but it serves its purpose. Vincent¡¯s grip tightens as it shifts to my hair. I part my lips to deepen the kiss, then he¡¯s gone.

    I nearly stumble at the loss of him. I open my eyes to see Vincent striding away from me, towards the door.

    ¡°Where are you¡­¡± My words are cut off at the sound of the door lock engaging.

    When Vincent turns back, I can see the hunger in his eyes. When I first walked in here, the Vincent that I saw was the cool and collected businessman. This Vincent, this is the one I know well. My Devil. My Mr. Sin.

    Warmth rolls through my body, and I¡¯ve never been more thankful for dresses. Or for my everyday shaving habit.

    I expect Vincent to crash back into me, but instead he takes my hands.

    Walking backwards, he pulls me with him.

    ¡°I came in here intending to see what you¡¯ve learned in self- defense. Intending to stay professional.¡± He nces behind him. ¡°To be a gentleman.¡±

    He hasn¡¯t said anything dirty, but my heart is racing.

    ¡°And now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Now?¡± Vincent drops my hands and grabs my hips as he sits on some sort of weight bench. ¡°Now, you¡¯re going to ride my dick until you¡¯re screaming my name.¡±

    My whole body heats. ¡°Holy fuck.¡±

    I didn¡¯t mean to say that out loud.

    A smirk spreads across Vincent¡¯s face. ¡°Exactly.¡±

    I brace my hands on his shoulders as I climb onto hisp, one knee on either side of his hips. My short legsbined with hisrge form means that our bodies are already pressed flush together. His hard length perfectly lined up with my core.

    He¡¯s so close. Right where I want him. There¡¯s still too much between us. But the need for him has thoroughly taken over my body and I start to undte against him.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, sweetheart. Make yourself feel good.¡± He growls.

    His words spur on my confidence. Vincent¡¯s hands are still on my hips, but he¡¯s letting me lead.

    I need him inside me.

    Trusting him to keep me from falling, I lean back and reach down between us. My fingers unsp his belt, yanking it free from his pants and tossing it to the side. Still giving me room to work, Vincent leans forward, trailing open mouthed kisses down my neck. When he licks my cleavage, my hands flick the button of his pants open. The sound of his zipper lowering sounds through the room like an rm. Or a dinner bell.

    Tugging the material of his briefs down, I¡¯m finally able to wrap my fingers around his hot length.

    We groan in unison.

    Vincent¡¯s head drops against my chest, his back rising and falling with deep breaths.

    Firming my grip, I stroke up. Down. Once. Twice. Three times.

    I like this. I like being in control. I like being dominated too, but there¡¯s something about having a man like Vincentpletely at my mercy that turns me all the way on. The thrill courses through my veins and I¡¯m instantly addicted.

    I rise up on my knees, as high as I can get. Using one hand, I pull my underwear to the side. No way am I getting off this bench to remove them. I¡¯m so ready, so slick with need, that I don¡¯t need any prepping.

    Vincent¡¯s still so preupied with my hand that I don¡¯t think he realizes exactly what I¡¯m doing. I line up the head of his cock with my entrance. The warm wetness getting his attention. A deep sound rolls through his shoulders and his fingers tighten against my hips.

    I can¡¯t wait another second. I drop down. Sinking him inside me to the hilt.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Vincent¡¯s shout sends waves of pleasure through me. ¡°Fuck, baby. That¡¯s it.¡±

    On my knees, I can¡¯t lift off him more than a few inches, but I have enough room to rock. Forwards, backwards, over and over. When I try to rise up, it causes my body to clench around his length.

    I cling to him. My breathing out in pants.

    Vincent¡¯s hands slip under my skirt to squeeze my ass. He pulls me into him as close as I¡¯ll go.

    ¡°Yes, baby. That¡¯s right. Feel me inside you. Feel what you do to me.¡± Each word is spoken against my neck. His hot breath warming my skin, sending tingles down my spine.

    He¡¯s so deep inside of me, I¡¯m almost ufortable with the fullness. My arms circle around his neck and I pull myself against him. Rocking. I¡¯ve nevere just from pration. It always takes a hand to get me all the way off, but something about this position has me nearing the edge. When I grind down my clit rubs deliciously against the base of Vincent¡¯s cock. The friction is perfect.

    I¡¯m getting close.

    ¡°Vincent. Oh my god. You feel so good.¡± I say the words directly into Vincent¡¯s ear as I work myself against him. ¡°I missed you.¡±

    A dark sound rumbles through Vincent¡¯s body. With his hands still on my ass, Vincent lifts me just enough for him to swing one leg over the bench, so now he¡¯s straddling the bench and my legs are dangling off either side of hisp. My thighs are spread even further and there¡¯s no way for me to lift off him. He¡¯s as deep as he can get and now it¡¯s me who¡¯s entirely at his mercy.

    ¡°Tell me again.¡± Vincent says before dragging his teeth against my neck.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, barely coherent.

    ¡°Tell me you missed me.¡±

    I feel us move again and force my eyes to focus. Vincent slid himself up the bench so now he¡¯s leaning against the angled backrest.

    ¡°I missed you.¡± The words are pulled from me as I feel my edge getting closer. ¡°I missed you, so much.¡±

    Then he starts to move. And I can¡¯t think anymore.

    Having a surface to leverage his back against, Vincent is able to m his hips up, pushing himself deeper than he¡¯s ever been before.

    There¡¯s nothing left for me to do but to hang on. And scream his name.

    Between one breath and the next, my orgasm takes over. It crashes through me, and I choke out a cry as every inch of my body tingles. My limbs shake and I can feel myself pulsing around Vincent¡¯s cock. As soon as my bliss starts to wane, he surges up once more. His release pulls me back under.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 57

    A soft p on my ass has me lifting my head from its ce on Vincent¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Baby, if you don¡¯t climb off, we¡¯ll end up spending the night here on this bench. And as lovely as that sounds, I don¡¯t relish the idea of the cleaning crew finding us like this.¡± Vincent¡¯s voice vibrates through his chest into mine, reminding me of ourpromised position.

    ¡°Okay, okay. I¡¯m getting up.¡± I say, wondering how long we¡¯ve been copsed like this.

    Using his chest, I press myself up to sitting. With the way my skirt is draped around us, it might look like we¡¯re just cuddling, expect for the sheen of sweat on our foreheads.

    Pretending to be graceful, I shimmy off Vincent¡¯sp and hurry into the small bathroom to clean up. Where I end up throwing away my now stretched out and¡­ messy underwear.

    When I emerge, Vincent has my duffle slung over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re staying with me tonight. I gave Eric the night off but told him to stop at your ce to feed Captain.¡±

    I want to argue with him about being a demanding brute, but I really do want to spend the night with him. And he did think of my cat.

    But when he goes to unlock the door, I stop him. ¡°Hold on.¡±

    Leaving my bag on his shoulder, I open the zipper and dig around for a moment. Finding what I need, I keep my heels on as I step into my new panties and pull them up my legs.

    My dress keeps the act as innocent as possible, but the look on Vincent¡¯s face pure lust.

    Undies in ce, I pat his cheek and open the door.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 58

    ¡°But I¡¯m not busy that night.¡± Annie tells her dad with the biggest puppy dog eyes.

    Vincent¡¯s not affected. ¡°No. This is not an event for kids.¡± He puts a hand up to stave off any further arguments. ¡°Or tweens. Or teens. Or young adults. Or anyone under the age of 21.¡±

    Annie let¡¯s out an audible sigh and slumps back into her chair. Most of dinner was consumed while Annie filled Vincent in on nearly every second he missed throughout the week. Even though I know they spoke every day while he was in New York.

    Now that dinner is done, the topic has somehow turned to the uing charity g. With only two nights left until the event, most of the office has been in a frenzy. My tasks are done, so my job now is to put out any fires that emerge and to finalize my end of project report. It¡¯s sort of like an exit interview for my time with M.E. I¡¯ll outline thepany¡¯s PR position before, during, and at thepletion of my assignment. Including a list of rmendations for the future. I¡¯ve done dozens of these before but knowing that this report is going directly to Vincent has me feeling a little bit nervous.

    I know he respects my position within thepany. I know he believes I¡¯m intelligent. But something about putting it all on paper feels so different than discussing it with him in person. Plus, turning in the report doesn¡¯t just mean my assignment is over. It means my reason for keeping our rtionship a secret is also over, which causes me a whole other wave of nervousness. I feel our connection. I know it¡¯s there. But what if ¨C  after we go public ¨C he gets bored of me? Then instead of being Sasha rk, PR consultant, I¡¯ll be that girl who once dated Vincent Mazzanti.

    ¡°Sasha?¡±

    I blink. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± I ask, having missed whatever Annie asked me.

    She grins. ¡°You totally zoned out there. What were you thinking about?¡±

    ¡°The g.¡± My eyes dart to Vincent, I feel like a total asshole for lying to his daughter.

    ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re wearing? Oh!¡± She perks up, clearly struck with a great idea. ¡°We could go dress shopping!¡±

    I smile at her enthusiasm. ¡°I hate to disappoint you, but I already bought a dress.¡±

    ¡°Really? Crap.¡± She detes.

    ¡°Next time, Princess.¡± Vincent says. ¡°There¡¯ll be more gs.¡±

    I bite my lip, hating that I can¡¯t stop myself from reading into everything he says. It¡¯s like he heard my thoughts about the future and wanted to reassure me.

    ¡°Did you take a picture of your dress? Can I see it?¡± Annie asks.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t take any photos of it, but I can show you the picture from the website.¡±

    It only takes me a moment to find the link and the second Annie grabs my phone she honest-to-god gasps.

    ¡°Oh my god, I love it!¡± She squeals.

    I love it, too. I was tempted to wear my usual ck cocktail dress but opted for something a little extra for this event. I made a mental list of excuses as to why I needed to buy something new, but there was only one reason that mattered to me. And his name is Vincent. Even if we can¡¯t go as a couple, I still want to look the part. I want to look like I belong on the arm of Mr. Mazzanti.

    I almost backed out of ordering the dress a dozen times. But once I showed it to Jessica, she made me buy it. She argued that I¡¯d feelfortable in it since the fit is nearly identical to my trusty little ck dress. It stops just below the knees and is form fitting without being glued on. It has a sexy-but-tasteful V-neck. The only difference is the spaghetti straps rather than my preferred cap sleeves. Oh, and instead of ck, the dress is a blush pink. And covered in sequins.

    Annie is practically bouncing in her seat as she clicks through all the avable photos. ¡°Sasha, you¡¯re going to look like a supermodel in this!¡±

    My cheeks warm at herpliment. ¡°I appreciate your confidence.¡±

    ¡°Want to see, dad?¡±

    Vincent shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to be surprised.¡±

    Annie beams at him. ¡°She¡¯s going to surprise your socks off.¡±

    Vincent reaches over and ces his hand on my knee under the table. ¡°Sasha will be stunning, no matter what she wears.¡±

    ¡°Duh.¡± Annie hands my phone back. ¡°I want a dress just like that for prom.¡±

    Vincent makes a choking sound. ¡°Prom? What the hell are you talking about!¡±

    Annie gives him a nd look. ¡°It¡¯s this dance, in high school, where you get all dressed up and stuff.¡±

    ¡°I know what prom is.¡± Vincent replies, still sounding slightly in shock.

    Annie twists the knife. ¡°And my boyfriend can n his outfit around my dress, so we match.¡±

    Vincent moves his mouth, but nothinges out.

    I happily chime in. ¡°You know, when I went to prom my friend had a big sleepover at her house afterwards. She had an outdoor hot tub and we set up tents in her yard to sleep in. It was a ton of fun.¡±

    Annie¡¯s face lights up. ¡°Yes! I want to do that!¡±

    Vincent slowly turns his head to look at me. His jaw is flexing and the hand on my thigh is gripping me tightly.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough out of both of you. I think it¡¯s time for bed.¡±

    Annie chuckles and hops up from the table.

    ¡°You have five minutes before Ie tuck you in!¡± Vincent calls out after her.

    I move to push my chair out, but Vincent increases the pressure of his hand, stopping me.

    He leans in, lips brushing my cheek as he speaks in a low tone. ¡°You think you¡¯re fucking cute, putting ideas like that into my daughter¡¯s head. But you¡¯ll pay for thatter.¡± His hand slides further up my thigh. ¡°And don¡¯t ever forget about the resources at my disposal. I may be a good boy now, but I have no issues with hunting down everyst man who¡¯s ever put their filthy hands on you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of bodies.¡± I bluff. It¡¯s not that many.

    His hand slides higher. ¡°The Mississippi is a big river.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 59

    My nerves get worse with each passing block. We¡¯ll be at Mazzanti Enterprises in a matter of moments and there¡¯s no turning back. No time to go back and change into basic ck.

    Jessica came over to help me get ready. She imed it was just to help with my hair but considering all she did was smooth it out in soft waves I think the real reason was to make sure I didn¡¯t chicken out on wearing the sparkly pink dress. Jessica convinced Cheryl to let her attend the g too. I told her I could¡¯ve obviously gotten her an invitation, but she just shrugged. She did the same thing when I asked her why she didn¡¯t just get ready with me so we could ride in together. That shrug was followed by her muttering something about her making an entrance. I have a sneaking suspicion she wants to wow my bodyguard.

    Considering tonight¡¯s venue will be overrun with both overt and undercover security, Eric¡¯s been given permission to loosen the reins a little. I¡¯m attending as peripheral help so I n to mingle and pretend to bid on the silent auction items. It¡¯ll be easier to blend without a shadow.

    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I¡¯m not worried that I look like a tramp, this dress is fancy as fuck. I¡¯m worried that I actually might look like a millionaire¡¯s girlfriend. Paired with strappy ck heels, gold stud earrings, smoky eyes, and a bold red lip dye, my outfit is ssy. ssier than I¡¯ve ever looked before. Even Eric did a double take when he first saw me. But I¡¯m attending this event as part of the public rtions team, not as a personal guest.

    The car pulls to a stop at the front doors of M.E., and my time for fretting has run out.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 60

    ¡°You see why we just had toe over and introduce ourselves.¡± An older gentleman says to me.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet anyone who knew my father. Any friend of his¡­¡± My eyes wander over the shoulder of the man in front of me, and my words trail off.

    She¡¯s here. My woman.

    And fuck. Annie was right, she looks like royalty. Like a goddamn queen. She looks like mine.

    My heart gives an extra squeeze and I have to swallow before I can speak again.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± I know I¡¯m being rude, but I don¡¯t wait for a response.

    There¡¯s too much space between Sasha and myself, but I use the time it takes me to reach her to take in every detail. Every inch of her is glowing. Her shiny mane of hair. Her glittering eyes. Her lips. Her dress. That fucking dress that somehow equally embodies innocence and sin. The dusty rose color says good girl, but the way it sparkles over her curves whispers sultry goddess.

    Just looking at her has my pulse quickening and my cock hardening.

    I¡¯m a few feet away when I notice who she¡¯s talking to. Or better yet, what she¡¯s talking to. A man. He¡¯s her age and he looks way too interested in my girlfriend.

    When Sasha¡¯s eyes slide to me, I can tell that she knew I wasing. There¡¯s a knowing blush on her cheeks. The little minx knows exactly what she¡¯s doing to me in that damn getup.

    I keep my eyes locked on hers as I stop within touching distance. ¡°Sasha.¡±

    Sasha smiles up at me. ¡°Good evening, Mr. Mazzanti. Are you enjoying the event so far?¡±

    ¡°Very, very much.¡± I drag my eyes down her body.

    She nods towards the man who¡¯s standing far too close to her. ¡°This is Jordan, from marketing.¡±

    Turning my gaze, I catch him looking at Sasha¡¯s chest. When he hears that Sasha just introduced him, his eyes jolt up to mine. The anger on my face has him paling.

    I lean towards him and lower my voice. ¡°Go away.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 61

    I have to hold in augh as I watch Jordan stumble over himself to flee the wrath of Vincent.

    Jordan is probably harmless, but he wasn¡¯t taking a hint. Lucky for me, I had the perfect weapon. It took a few careful moves, but I maneuvered us so we¡¯d be in Vincent¡¯s sightline. I knew it was only a matter of time before he spotted me. And I rightfully assumed he¡¯d be much more sessful at getting rid of Jordan than I was.

    The only reason I¡¯m not currently drooling all over Vincent¡¯s shoes is the fact that I spent five solid minutes earlier staring at him from the corner of the room.

    Vincent always looks delicious. Always. But somehow he looks even more lickable tonight. His ck suit. ck shirt. ck tie. Dark hair. Soul searching eyes. Stubble shadowing his face. He¡¯s utterly lickable. And he¡¯s mine. All mine.

    ¡°Sweetheart. You¡¯re fucking killing me.¡± Vincent¡¯s tone as his eyes travel over my body is so heated my thighs clench.

    I school my features. ¡°Sir, I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Vincent leans in, under the guise of talking over the drone of noise in the room. His lips brush against the shell of my ear with each word. ¡°Baby, if you think you can tease me, you have a lessoning your way. I¡¯m going to tie you to my bed and fuck that sweet look right off your face.¡± His fingertips start at the top of my bare shoulder and slowly drag down my arm, causing my skin to pebble. ¡°And each man you introduce me to will equal one denied orgasm. So, if you want me to let youeter, you¡¯re going to knock that shit off.¡±

    I don¡¯t know if I shouldugh or strip down right here.

    His fingers wrap around my wrist. The grip tight, but not bruising. ¡°Nod if you understand me, sweetheart.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Good girl.¡± He straightens to his full height and gives me another slow once over. ¡°Goddamn. I can¡¯t decide if I want to ster you to my side, showing you off as mine, or if I want to lock you in a closet while I rip out the eyes of every man who dares to look at you.¡±

    This time I dough. ¡°Darling, I¡¯ve worked so hard to give you a nice image. Please don¡¯t ruin it tonight by mutting your guests.¡±

    Vincent tilts his head, as though considering his options, before he changes the subject. ¡°Are you enjoying yourself?¡±

    Smiling, I look around the room. ¡°Yeah. Your event team is talented. I know I saw this space the other day, but with the finishing touches and all the beautiful people, it¡¯s like nothing I¡¯ve ever experienced before.¡±

    I¡¯m telling the truth. The ballroom that we¡¯re in isrge enough to hold a few hundred guests. It boasts two full-service bars, ck-tie servers with trays of food, and one wall full of professionally disyed auction items.

    Vincent hums an agreement. ¡°If there¡¯s something you want to bid on, just write down your name. I¡¯ll buy it.¡±

    I dart my eyes towards the gorgeous hand blown vase on disy before I shake my head. ¡°Vincent.¡±

    He squeezes my wrist. ¡°You¡¯re already testing my patience in that dress. Bid on whatever you want. Don¡¯t push me on this.¡±

    I open my mouth to reply, but I¡¯m cut off.

    ¡°Mr. Mazzanti.¡±

    I look over and find that bitch Amanda standing right the fuck there.

    I know I should put some distance between Vincent and I, but it¡¯s toote now. Plus, I don¡¯t want to. The way she¡¯s been fawning all over Vincent has me wanting to join him in ripping out some eyeballs.

    ¡°They¡¯d like to start your speech soon.¡± Amanda says, her voice throatier than usual.

    Vincent¡¯s thumb rubs circles on my skin. ¡°Of course. And you are?¡±

    ¡°Oh, um, I¡¯m Amanda. From PR.¡± She nces at me, cheeks turning pink, before she looks away.

    Vincent winks at me and my mouth pops open. This prick knew exactly who that bitch Amanda was and embarrassed her anyways. God, I really do love this asshole.

    He doesn¡¯t bother lowering his voice as he speaks to me. ¡°Find something good for us to bid on. I¡¯ll be upset if we don¡¯t win at least one item.¡± And if that wasn¡¯t enough, Vincent leans in and presses a kiss to my temple.

    I¡¯m too stunned to reply. Or react in any way.

    I¡¯m still standing in the same spot a minuteter when my clutch vibrates. I pull my phone out and see a text from Vincent. Four hours until midnight. Then your assignment is over. And you¡¯re mine.

    This man flusters me when he isn¡¯t even trying, so when he actually puts effort into it¡­ I¡¯m a helpless puddle of a human being.

    Needing a distraction, I look around for Jessica. Between her ck hair and the siren-red dress I know she¡¯s wearing; she should be easy to spot. On my first scan of the crowd I find her, tucked into a corner with Eric. Not wanting to bother them, but still needing to burn off some of this Vincent-induced tension, I head towards the doors.

    Therge double doors are propped open since it¡¯s the sort of event where people wille and go. We¡¯re on the second floor, and the lobby area outside the ballroom is spacious and just as nicely furnished as the rest of the building.

    Grabbing a ss of wine off a passing tray, I step out into the lobby where it¡¯s much quieter and approach the balcony that looks out over the main entrance on the first floor.

    I feel like I can breathe a little easier out here. The sounds and energy of the g are still nearby, but no longer so overwhelming.

    Vincent¡¯s reaction to my dress was on par for all the other men I ran into tonight. It¡¯s great to feel sexy and desired, but the constant stares are a bit stifling. Plus, there¡¯s the underlying stress of being a lone woman fending off unwanted advances. In such a short time, I¡¯ve gotten used to the protection that Vincent offers. Simply standing next to him, I know nothing can touch me. But being without him, I feel like my armor is missing.

    ¡°Sasha, there you are!¡±

    I smile as I turn to face the voice. ¡°Hi, Brent!¡±

    Vincent¡¯s assistant looks GQ handsome in a slender-fit grey suit and bow tie.

    He whistles. ¡°Damn girl, you look fuckable as hell.¡±

    Augh gets stuck in my throat andes out as a snort. ¡°Oh my god, you did not just say that.¡±

    Brent grins. ¡°I must not tell lies.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± He agrees. ¡°But I¡¯m d I found you; I was about to give up.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m at your service. What did you need?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a reporter looking for you. I think he had some questions he wanted to ask before Vincent gets up to speak.¡± Brent looks at his watch. ¡°Which is in like two minutes.¡±

    I step away from the railing. ¡°Oh, no problem.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to head back in there.¡± Brent nods to the ballroom. ¡°I left the reporter by the elevators, but it took me awhile to find you, so he might¡¯ve moved.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll find him. What does he look like?¡±

    Brent shrugs. ¡°Bald. Nerdy. Not my type.¡±

    I give him an Annie eye roll. ¡°Helpful.¡±

    Brentughs then breaks off to go through the open doors. It¡¯s not until after he¡¯s gone that I remember there are two sets of elevators.

    Not wanting to miss Vincent¡¯s speech, I move as quickly as my deadly heels allow.

    There are a few people chatting near the elevators, but none of them are bald men. I slip past them and continue down the hall. The other bank is just around the corner.

    It only takes me a second to realize that there¡¯s no one over here. I shake my head at myself as I turn around. Or course he¡¯s not at the far set of elevators. That wouldn¡¯t even make sense.

    I¡¯ve taken one step when a handnds on my shoulder. The sensation¡¯s so startling that I jolt and turn towards the touch on instinct. That¡¯s when the pain hits. A sharp, stinging sensation in my neck. I open my mouth to scream but no soundes out.

    A secondter the pain stops. Reced by a spreading warmth. My neck, my shoulders, my arms. The feeling is like nothing I¡¯ve experienced before.

    I know something is wrong, but I can¡¯t figure out what¡¯s happening to me. My chest feels heavy. My brain¡¯s fuzzy. My thoughts can¡¯t keep up with my body. But my soul is screaming at me. It¡¯s shouting to me that I¡¯m in danger.

    I try to run. Try to push my foot forward. It doesn¡¯t move.

    Something circles my waist, pulling me backwards.

    I stumble. My arms not cooperating. They¡¯re hanging limp at my sides rather than reaching out to break my fall.

    But I don¡¯t fall. My body is pressed against¡­ something. Someone.

    The sensation of touching a stranger, fuels the terror already spiraling down my spine.

    I¡¯m moving.

    It¡¯s like I¡¯m having an out of body experience. I can see my feet out in front of me. I¡¯m being dragged. My purse is on the floor. My ss of wineying shattered across the tile.

    My heels make a scraping sound as they¡¯re pulled over an uneven surface.

    ckness swims over my vision. I blink hard. My mouth is still trying to form words but no soundes out.

    I blink again.

    With my vision narrowing, I watch in horror as the elevator doors slide shut in front of me.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 62

    ¡°We would never have been able to aplish these goals without the help from the wonderful people in this room. I want to personally thank each and every one of you for your dedication to thismunity. To striving towards a world without homelessness. A world without hunger.¡±

    My words float around the room, all eyes on me. All eyes but Sasha¡¯s.

    I raise my ss. ¡°Now go spend some money.¡±

    The crowd raises their sses as they chuckle, but I¡¯m already walking away from the podium.

    Sasha doesn¡¯t need to hear my speech. I don¡¯t care about that. I just care about her. I care that she¡¯s not here. She wouldn¡¯t miss this. Not if she could help it. Something is wrong.

    I spot Angelo. He sees the look on my face and steps away from his conversation.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Vin?¡± He asks.

    ¡°Sasha. Where is she?¡± His concerned nce around the room tells me everything I need to know. ¡°When did youst have eyes on?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I saw you two together and then I saw her head out into the lobby area.¡±

    We¡¯re both walking before he¡¯s even done talking.

    I spot Brent as we near the doors.

    ¡°Brent!¡± I bark his name.

    ¡°Yeah, boss?¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Sasha?¡±

    His brows furrow as he thinks. ¡°Oh, um, I guess I haven¡¯t seen her since she went to talk to that reporter.¡±

    A familiar flood of adrenaline fills my veins. ¡°What reporter?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get his name.¡±

    Angelo and I move in on him, causing Brent¡¯s eyes to widen.

    ¡°What did he look like? Details.¡± I demand.

    Brent looks as scared as I feel. ¡°Um, white guy. He was bald. Like shaven bald, not old person bald. Short. Thin. Really blue eyes. Like, crazy blue.¡±

    My pulse roars through my ears. It¡¯s Randal. The son of a bitch is here. He walked right into my building.

    Angelo has his phone out.

    I grab Brent by the front of his shirt. ¡°Where?!¡±

    He points behind him. ¡°The ¨C The elevators.¡±

    My legs are running before I even tell them to. I slow at the first group of elevators, but my gut tells me this isn¡¯t the one.

    Rounding the corner, my eyes immediately snag on the small gold purse on the floor. Right next to a shattered ss.

    Sasha!

    Panic and rage war inside of me.

    I press the button to call the elevator and it doesn¡¯t even light up. Angelo tries the other one and the same thing happens.

    Erices running around the corner and Angelo shouts for him to try the other elevators.

    ¡°My office.¡± I think the words out loud, causing Angelo to turn and face me. I say it again. ¡°My office. The bastard fucked with the elevators and went up.¡± I hold my hand out, palm up. ¡°Find someone to get these things fucking working, then follow me up.¡±

    Angelo nods and pulls the gun from a hidden holster and ps it into my hand. ¡°I¡¯ll be right behind you, brother.¡±

    I shove through the door to the stairwell. 19 flights of stairs. I have no choice but to sprint them.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 63

    Pain. Everything hurts.

    A pping sound bounces past my ears, but I can¡¯t ce it.

    I try to open my eyes, but they feel so heavy. Did I fall asleep?

    A sharp pain radiates through my cheek and my head jerks to the side. My whole body rolls with the movement.

    With my eyes shut, I try to take stock of my body. I¡¯m in a chair. I think. My chin to my chest. Something hard digging into my side. I flex my fingers. One handing up empty, the other gripping what feels like a narrow armrest. That must be what¡¯s digging into my other side.

    I pinch my eyes shut tightly, trying to work up the energy to open them. And like a finger snap, it alles back to me. The reporter. The stinging pain in my neck. The elevator.

    ¡°Randal.¡± I whisper the name.

    ¡®Very good.¡± A male voice hisses. Close. Too close.

    The pain blooms across my face again. This piece of shit is hitting me.

    ¡°Look at me!¡± Randal¡¯s voice bellows.

    His change in tone adds a newyer of dread. This man is truly unhinged. I swallow down the cry that wants to overtake my sanity. Vincent will find me. He¡¯ll notice I¡¯m missing, and he¡¯ll find me. I just need to stall.

    I force my eyes to open.

    My vision swims before focusing on the carpet at my feet. After a little fumbling, I¡¯m able to grab hold of both armrests. Relief pours through me at the realization that I¡¯m not tied down. Pushing with all the strength I can muster, I sit upright.

    The lights aren¡¯t on, but the glowing in from the open doorway, and the gleaming lights from the skyline beyond the wall of windows, is enough for me to see clearly. And recognize the space. Vincent¡¯s office. I¡¯m in one of his visitor¡¯s chairs, only it¡¯s turned around so my back is to the desk.

    Randal didn¡¯t take me far. That gives me more hope that Vincent will be here. He¡¯ll save me.

    ¡°Wee to the party.¡± Randal¡¯s manic voice pulls my attention.

    He¡¯s standing just a few feet in front of me. A gun in his hand, pointed at my chest.

    ¡°What do you say we get started?¡± He asks, slowly aiming his gun away from me.

    I follow the trajectory and when my eyes lock on the figure slumped in the chair next to mine, my mask of control disintegrates.

    With a shaky hand, I reach out. ¡°Annie?¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 64

    My lungs are burning. My thighs are cramping. My body yelling at me to stop, to catch my breath. My mind knowing that I don¡¯t have time.

    I round thending for the 15th floor and force myself to speed up. Allowing my fury to fuel me.

    This motherfucker put his hands on my Sasha.

    No more chances. This is it. Randal dies tonight.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 65

    Annie¡¯s chest is moving. She¡¯s alive. I want to shake her, to wake her up. But if she can sleep through whatever¡¯s about to happen, that might be for the best.

    I still trust that Vincent will find us. But there¡¯s a chance he might not find us in time. And it¡¯s not just me that I have to worry about anymore.

    ¡°Randal.¡± I try to say his name calmly, but my voice breaks and I realize that tears are streaming down my face. ¡°Please. You don¡¯t have to do this.¡±

    The gun swings back to aim at me. ¡°Shut up, bitch! You have no idea what this is.¡±

    I¡¯m shaking so bad that I have to grip the chair again.

    I try to steady my voice. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry about your sister. But hurting us won¡¯t bring her back.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare talk about her!¡± Randal screams, thrusting the gun towards my face.

    All those stupid self-defense lessons I¡¯ve suffered through, and I can¡¯t do a damn thing. I tried to stand when I first saw Annie, but my legs wouldn¡¯t cooperate. Even if I was confident about disarming him, I can¡¯t get my body to listen.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I repeat. ¡°Please, I¡¯ll stay here with you. Just let Annie go.¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°No. You¡¯re not going to trick me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a trick. You don¡¯t need both of us.¡± I plead.

    The smile that pulls across his face will haunt my nightmares. If I live long enough to sleep again.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong, Sasha.¡± Hearing him say my name causes bile to rise in my throat. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill both of you. The magnificent Vincent wille up here and find everything he loves dead.¡± He cackles as though us dying for the sake of causing Vincent pain is hrious.

    I fight against my lungs as they try to hyperventte. ¡°But Annie is your sister¡¯s too. She doesn¡¯t just belong to Vincent.¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡±

    ¡°Annie is part of her. She¡¯s a part of Renee.¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± He turns the gun back towards Annie and I shut my mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t say her name. Don¡¯t ever fucking say her name!¡±

    ¡°Okay. Okay, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Panic ws at my throat. I¡¯m losing him.

    ¡°Annie is a means to an end. She¡¯s the best way to hurt Vincent. He killed my sister. My soulmate. He needs to feel the life-shattering pain that I felt. And you, you¡¯re just a convenient whore who will add to his pain.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t love me.¡± Saying the words out loud hurt. I hope it¡¯s not true, but I¡¯ll say anything. I need to stall him. ¡°He won¡¯t care about me dying. He¡¯ll be happy to be rid of Annie. He can go back to being a bachelor then. He won¡¯t be tied down.¡±

    ¡°No. No. No! Don¡¯t try to trick me!¡± Randal shrieks, gun swinging back towards me. Away from Annie.

    I keep going. ¡°If you do this, you¡¯re going to spend your life in prison. Wouldn¡¯t you rather just disappear again? You can go live in peace.¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡±

    As Randal¡¯s voice echoes through the room, a small groanes from Annie. I silently hope that Randal doesn¡¯t hear her.

    I keep my gaze on Randal and my heart drops at the smile that pulls across his sneering lips.

    My heart is beating so hard I can hardly hear my own words. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Please, don¡¯t hurt her.¡± I¡¯m sobbing now and I¡¯m not sure who I¡¯m apologizing to. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Thest bit of humanity leaves his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    Then he turns the gun on Annie.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 66

    I take deep breaths as I quietly press open the door to the 20th floor.

    I heard the doors m open below me when I was on the sixth floor. My backup ising, but they aren¡¯t close enough. I can¡¯t afford to wait.

    Easing the door closed behind me, I check the gun Angelo gave me. Round in the chamber, safety off.

    Staying low, I make my way towards my office. Only about half of the overhead lights are on, but it¡¯s plenty bright.

    A shout sounds from down the hall.

    Hearing Randal¡¯s voice pulls me back to thest time I saw him. When I was forced to chase him through the streets while he tried to steal my daughter. I push away the memory. There¡¯s no time for that.

    I stay in the shadows as I round thest corner. I want to run straight for him, but I need to make sure Sasha won¡¯t be coteral damage.

    Sasha¡¯s soft voice floats down the hallway and the buried part of me that worried that she might already be dead takes a breath.

    I¡¯m still a few yards from my office and I can see that the door¡¯s been left open. I align myself with the opening, hoping I¡¯ll be able to see where they are in the room.

    I¡¯m close enough to hear Sasha¡¯s words. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Her tone fills me with dread.

    My eyes trail forward and for the first time in almost a decade I see Randal. And the gun he has pointing at Sasha.

    I can¡¯t make out his expression, but he suddenly sounds very calm. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    The words are final and my blood chills.

    I stand to my full height and raise my own gun.

    I watch, confused, as he seems to turn the gun away from Sasha. I follow the trajectory. And my heart fucking stops. Annie.

    Randal sights his gun on my daughter.

    I squeeze the trigger.

    So does Randal. His muzzle re lighting up the dark room.

    I turn feral.

    Keeping my gun trained, I squeeze the trigger again and again as I stride towards my target. Red mist blooms in arcs from Randal¡¯s body. Each bullet hitting true.

    I don¡¯t stop.

    Two seconds and I¡¯m in the office. Striding closer.

    He¡¯s turned to face me now. I press off another round, this one passes through his shoulder and cracks a spiderweb into the window behind him.

    Randal rocks back with each hit. But he hasn¡¯t dropped his gun.

    Another hit. He stumbles, catching himself against the window.

    Randal tries to lift his gun. This time his aim will be on me.

    Finally.

    I don¡¯t stop. My wrath is too overwhelming to halt my forward momentum.

    With a roar, I close the distance between us and m my foot into his chest. The impact is too much for the battered window behind him to resist. The ss bows outward for a split second before the pane gives. A look of disbelief shes through Randal¡¯s eyes before he disappears into the darkness. Twenty stories above the ground.

    Gone. Randal¡¯s gone.

    ¡°Dad?¡± Annie¡¯s cry has me spinning away from the window.

    Oh god. Randal¡¯s one shot. He got off one shot.

    Annie and Sasha are huddled on the floor. Both chairs tipped over.

    I drop to my knees in front of Annie and set my gun on the floor behind me. ¡°Annie. Princess. Are you okay?¡± My words are choked.

    I grip her small face in both hands. She looks shaken and scared but she doesn¡¯t look hurt.

    Annie starts to cry harder. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    I run my hands all over her. Checking for an injury. There¡¯s blood, but I can¡¯t tell if any of it is hers. Randal¡¯s blood is sttered everywhere.

    ¡°Annie, honey, are you hurt?¡±

    She shakes her head. The worry wrapped around my heart starts to loosen. Randal was aiming at her when he fired, but he missed. He must have missed.

    As I lean forward to pull her into a hug, my knee slides across the floor. I look down. And it takes me a moment to understand what I¡¯m seeing. I¡¯m kneeling in a pool of blood. A lot of blood. Too much.

    With dread creeping up my spine, I raise my gaze to Sasha.

    Even in the dim light I can see how pale she is. Panic ms through me.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± She starts to tilt. ¡°No. Baby, no.¡±

    I reach out to catch her as she slumps back against the desk. That¡¯s when I see the blood stain on her side, growing with each heartbeat. Her pretty pink dress quickly turning a deep crimson.

    She starts to shut her eyes.

    ¡°No! Sasha! Stay with me, baby. Stay here, Sasha. Stay here.¡±

    I move so she¡¯s leaning against me and with careful fingers, I rip open the small tear in her dress. The sight of her gunshot wound tries to pull me under. Tries to pull me back 30 years.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got you. I¡¯ve got you.¡± I keep repeating the words as I press down, trying to stop the bleeding.

    With my hand in ce, I look for an exit wound. But I can¡¯t find one. The bullet is still inside her. The fucking bullet hit her in the side. That shouldn¡¯t have happened. It shouldn¡¯t even be possible. She would¡¯ve had to¡­

    Annie.

    My throat tightens even further as I put together what happened. The bullet meant for Annie is lodged in my girlfriend¡¯s side. This beautiful woman literally threw herself in front of my daughter to save her life. And now she¡¯s dying.

    My vision blurs. Tears clouding my eyes. I blink. Hard.

    I can never repay her for this. For the rest of my life, I can never repay her for this.

    I press harder on her wound, still feeling blood seep out between my fingers. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if this hurts, baby. I have to keep the pressure on.¡±

    Her eyes slide open and miraculously a small smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt.¡±

    ¡°Good. That¡¯s good.¡± I¡¯m lying. It should hurt.

    She¡¯s going into shock and time is running out.

    Her hand reaches up towards my face, fingers stained red with her own blood.

    I press my cheek into her palm. ¡°Sweetheart, you have to hold on. Okay? Help ising.¡± I saw Angeloe in a moment ago and grab Annie. With my eyes still on Sasha I shout over my shoulder. ¡°Get the goddamn ambnce here! Now!¡±

    Sasha¡¯s hand falls away from my face.

    ¡°No. Sasha. Come on. Stay with me.¡±

    Her blink is slow. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay.¡± Her eyes close.

    Hearing my father¡¯s dying words on her lips tears my soul open.

    ¡°Sasha! Don¡¯t you leave me! I can¡¯t lose you. I can¡¯t do this without you. Please. I can¡¯t do this again. Not again.¡± I can hardly hear my own words over my own pounding heart. ¡°Baby, please. Please don¡¯t go.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s lips part and I think she¡¯s about to say something. I need to hear her. I lean closer, straining to listen, only to have her body go limp against me.

    I¡¯m fucking helpless. I¡¯m a man this time, not a child, but it¡¯s exactly the same. It¡¯s the fucking same. I couldn¡¯t do anything then and I can¡¯t do anything now.

    I was toote.

    I¡¯m always too fuckingte.

    I drop my forehead to hers, my tears dropping onto her cheeks. ¡°I love you, Sasha. Come back to me. I love you.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 67

    He looks so sad. My poor Vincent. I wish I could tell him not to worry. That it¡¯s all going to be okay. I don¡¯t feel so bad. Not as bad as I thought it would. The fear is gone. Randal is gone. Annie is safe. Vincent is safe. That¡¯s what matters.

    I wish it had been different.

    I can hear his voice still. Sometimes he¡¯s yelling. I like that. He sounds like my Devil when he¡¯s mad. But then his voice will turn into something different. Something sad. Something pleading. I want to tell him that I hear him. I want to tell him that I love him, too.

    I wish he had told me sooner. I wish I had told him before all of this. I hope he knows. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be okay leaving if he doesn¡¯t know that I love him, too.

    I try to tell him, but I can¡¯t.

    My body won¡¯t respond. I can¡¯t even get my eyes to open. I just want one more look. One more look at Vincent¡¯s beautiful face.

    There are more voices now. And movement. I can¡¯t make out the words anymore. I hate that this reminds me of when Randal drugged me and pulled me into the elevator. When was that? An hour ago? Less? It feels like a lifetime ago. Time can be funny like that.

    The voices are fading.

    I wish they¡¯d give me a nket before they left. It¡¯s so cold. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s right. You shouldn¡¯t have to be cold at the end. Cold and crippled in the dark. Life is so unfair. I want to scream. I want to cry.

    A new voice hovers above the rest. Bing clearer. A voice I haven¡¯t heard in a long time.

    ¡°Mom?¡± I try to ask.

    My soul heaves with recognition, but she doesn¡¯t answer me. The voice is still there, but it echoes around me like a memory.

    ¡°Mom, I missed you so much¡± My sanity shutters with unshed sobs. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do. I don¡¯t know how to get back. I¡¯m not ready to leave.¡±

    Dying is supposed to be peaceful. It isn¡¯t supposed to be like this.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 68

    ¡°Sir, I¡¯m sorry, but you¡¯re not family.¡±

    I clench my fists as I re at the nurse. ¡°She¡¯s my girlfriend and I¡¯m the closest thing to fucking family that she has here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± The nurse holds his hands up.

    Angelo wraps an arm around my shoulders. ¡°Vin,e on. Let me take care of this.¡±

    I want to fight him. I want to fight everyone. But I know that won¡¯t help.

    ¡°Fine. Do it.¡± I shake him off and step away.

    I rode in the second ambnce with Annie, but Sasha was right ahead of us. I know she¡¯s here. I just need to know if¡­ If she¡¯s¡­

    I grip my hair and squeeze my eyes shut. I can¡¯t think like that.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± My mom¡¯s calm tone prates my defenses. ¡°The doctor has cleared Annie.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± I take a deep breath. Thest thing I want it to do is traumatize Annie further with my temper.

    I follow my mom into Annie¡¯s room. She looks too young, sitting on the hospital bed in her pajamas.

    Randal must have been nning this for weeks. In the years since the attempted kidnapping, he¡¯s clearly been mastering his tech skills. My guys have pieced most of it together. Randal found a way to spoof phone numbers, and he sent Annie a text that looked like it came from me, asking her toe outside. Annie replied asking if it was to see Sasha¡¯s dress and Randal rolled with it. At the same time, he texted my mom pretending to be her best friend in Florida dealing with a family crisis, therefore distracting her. I don¡¯t know how he knew about her friend, or the fact that they¡¯re always texting, but he was very convincing.

    In the moments leading up to this, Randal injected a seizure-inducing drug into a random resident of my building who was passing through the lobby, causing a distraction.

    The second Annie stepped out the apartment door into the hallway, Randal grabbed her and used a syringe of Propofol to knock her out.

    Lucky for us when I kicked Randal out the window hended on his back, so thebel on the vile that was in his front pocket was still legible. That dead piece of shit drugged my girls with the same stuff they use to knock you out at the dentist.

    I grit my teeth wishing I could kill him all over again. Slower. I can only hope that he was alive the whole way down before his impact with the sidewalk. I probably shouldn¡¯t have done that, but I wasn¡¯t exactly thinking straight. And since no one was injured on street level, I figure ¨C no harm, no foul.

    The doctor makes a note on Annie¡¯s chart before standing. ¡°Alright, Miss Mazzanti, you are free to go home and get some rest. Remember to stay hydrated and to take it easy. We¡¯ll be calling to follow up with you tomorrow.¡±

    My mother nods. ¡°Thank you, doctor.¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± I say automatically.

    He gives us a soft smile. ¡°She¡¯ll be alright physically.¡±

    I know what he¡¯s saying. Her body will recover quicker than her mind.

    ¡°We understand, doctor.¡± I tell him.

    With one final smile, he leaves the room.

    ¡°Dad?¡± Annie grabs my hand. ¡°Will you stay here?¡±

    ¡°Here?¡± My brows furrow.

    Her big eyes blink up at me. ¡°Yeah. I think you should stay with Sasha. She should have someone waiting for her.¡±

    Just when I think my heart can¡¯t take anymore¡­

    I pull Annie into a hug. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    She nods and a nce at my mom shows she agrees.

    I know how guilty and angry my mom¡¯s feeling right now. Annie was in her care when Randal got to her. None of this is her fault, but no matter what I say, she won¡¯t stop apologizing. It¡¯ll be good for both of them to spend time together.

    ¡°Okay.¡± I squeeze Annie tighter. ¡°Okay.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 69

    Three hours.

    Sasha¡¯s been in surgery for three fucking hours.

    While Annie was getting discharged, Angelo worked his magic. Or rather he called Uncle Enzo, who called the Governor, who called the director of the hospital, who called the hardass nurse, who finally told me where I could go sit and wait.

    That¡¯s it. Just wait. And wait.

    I know that Sasha¡¯s in surgery and that it¡¯s critical. But that¡¯s all I know. I¡¯ve tried bullying my way into more information. Begging. Bribing. Ultimately, I was told that there¡¯s no more news to tell until the surgeons finish. So, I have to wait. And hope.

    Angelo¡¯s never far away. Even though Randal¡¯s dead, and the threat is gone, Angelo has a full four-man crew with him. That makes five huge men in suits plus me, my all-ck tux soaked in blood. Right now we look exactly like the gangster family we¡¯re trying not to be.

    But it¡¯s still better than it could have been. Uncle Enzo couldn¡¯t have picked a better week to return to Minneapolis. He has the connections that we need to get through this mess quickly. Without him I¡¯d probably be stuck in a police station answering questions rather than sitting here in the hospital. We turned over all of the security footage from tonight to the police. It¡¯s clearly self-defense. I might¡¯ve gone a little overboard kicking the fucker out the window, but since he didn¡¯t crush anyone when hended Uncle Enzo will clear me from that too.

    Raised voices drag my attention across the room.

    Standing from my chair, I see someone pushing through Angelo¡¯s wall of guards. When the man¡¯s facees into view, I recognize him immediately.

    ¡°Let him through.¡± My words are scratchy but loud enough to be heard.

    Special Agent John rk shrugs off the hand on his arm, then locks eyes with me.

    ¡°Vincent Mazzanti.¡± His tone is ugly. And I deserve it.

    John cuts the distance between us in a few long strides. He¡¯s nearly my height, a little thinner, but fit. And he¡¯s pissed.

    I expect the punch, but I make no move to block it. I¡¯m so numb already that I hardly feel the knuckles as they connect with my cheekbone.

    I don¡¯t block the second hit either.

    John¡¯s chest is heaving, more from anguish than exertion.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Angelo shouts, reaching out for John. And I can see at least two of the other guys pulling out their concealed weapons.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± I hold my hands out. They make no move to back off, so I steel my voice. ¡°Stand down.¡±

    John,pletely unconcerned with the danger around him, stays focused on me.

    Angelo steps closer. ¡°You sure, boss?¡±

    I use the back of my hand to wipe the blood off my lip. ¡°This is Sasha¡¯s brother.¡±

    Hearing her name, John lets out a pained sound. ¡°I told you what would happen if she got hurt because of you. I fucking told you!¡± He shoves me with both hands.

    I take a step back. I won¡¯t fight him. I won¡¯t even stop him if he tries to kill me. Hell, if I¡¯m the reason that Sasha dies, I¡¯ll invite it.

    I choke just thinking of the word. It¡¯s like John can see my thoughts because between one breath and the next, the fight leaves him. And we¡¯re left just standing there, two broken men.

    ¡°Which one of you is Vincent?¡± A new male voice asks.

    We all turn to face a doctor, dressed in full surgery scrubs.

    ¡°I am.¡±

    John steps up next to me but stays silent.

    The doctor runs his eyes over the group of imposing men before focusing back on me. ¡°The bullet caused a lot of internal damage, but she¡¯s stable now and out of surgery¡­¡±

    I don¡¯t hear anymore. When my back hits the wall, my legs give out. A sob gets stuck in my throat as I slide to the floor. My forehead drops against my knees and I cup my hands behind my head.

    She¡¯s alive.

    My girl is alive.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 70

    Shit.

    I feel¡­ heavy. My body aches, but it¡¯s dull. Almost like I¡¯m feeling someone else¡¯s pain. And there¡¯s a humming sound. Like machines. But that¡¯s weird, right?

    I¡¯m so tired. So goddamn tired. I try to open my eyes, but I can¡¯t. I just can¡¯t.

    I¡¯ll sleep a little bit longer.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 71

    My lungs expand with a quick inhale. Memories flood into my consciousness and pull me the rest of the way out of dreand. Shot. I was fucking shot.

    With my eyes still shut, I force awareness into my body as I try to wiggle my fingers and toes. The signal from my brain to my extremities is slower than it should be, but all my parts react. I exhale a relieved breath. I don¡¯t remember the exact moment of impact, but I vaguely remember copsing. I don¡¯t even know where I was shot, but I¡¯m d it wasn¡¯t in the spine.

    I¡¯m pretty sure that I¡¯m drugged. I assume I¡¯ll be in a lot of pain when it wears off. And wow, moving my toes was exhausting. I want to fall back asleep. But I can¡¯t yet. Not until I know if everyone is okay.

    Taking a moment, I fortify my resolve.

    With an rming amount of effort, I force my eyes to flutter open. My vision swims, but the room is blessedly dim. It takes a few blinks for my eyes to focus as I stare at the ceiling. A few slow breaths help the sudden wave of nausea pass.

    I don¡¯t think I have the energy to look around. This might be all I get right now. I just wish I could see Vincent. I need to see him, then I¡¯ll rest.

    I whisper his name. ¡°Vincent.¡±

    My brain is still fuzzy and slow, but I hear the gasp thates from somewhere next to me.

    ¡°Sasha? Baby?¡± A chair scrapes across the floor, then Vincent¡¯s face appears above my own.

    He looks terrible. And still he¡¯s the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen.

    ¡°Sasha.¡± One of his hands grips my own, while the other gently strokes my hair.

    There¡¯s so much emotion in his voice, it nearly suffocates me.

    ¡°Annie?¡± Is all I can get out.

    A look passes over Vincent¡¯s face a moment before tears start sliding down his cheeks. My eyes widen but before I can freak out, he nods. ¡°She¡¯s fine. Annie is fine.¡± Vincent dips down, resting his forehead against mine. ¡°Because of you. You saved my daughter. My Annie. You could have died, but you saved her. I can never repay you for what you did. You saved her.¡±

    Vincent pulls back enough so he can look me in the eyes. ¡°I love you, Sasha. I love you so much. Fuck. I was so scared. I can¡¯t live in a world where you don¡¯t exist.¡±

    Tears form instantly in my eyes. This wonderful man. I love him so much. I¡¯d hoped I¡¯d hear those words from him, but I thought I¡¯d missed my chance.

    ¡°I love you, too.¡± I don¡¯t think my throat makes the sound, but Vincent reads the words on my lips.

    He leans down and presses the softest kiss to the corner of my mouth.

    ¡°Well, hell. Guess I can¡¯t kill him now.¡± Says a voice, that isn¡¯t Vincent¡¯s.

    Still holding my hand, Vincent eases back so I can see the man standing on the other side of my bed.

    My mouth drops open. John?

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 72

    I¡¯ve been sitting next to this bed for hours. The doctors said she¡¯d recover. They assured me that she¡¯d be okay. But a part of me didn¡¯t believe them. A part of me thought that she¡¯d never wake up. That she¡¯d leave me.

    But she did wake up. She¡¯s here. She¡¯s going to be okay. And she loves me.

    My exhausted body is filled with too many warring emotions. Relief, concern, love. I¡¯ve been on the brink of losing it since I first raced out of that ballroom, but I can¡¯t lose it yet. I need to stay strong. But all I really want to do is crawl into Sasha¡¯s bed and hold her warm body against mine while she sleeps. But I won¡¯t fit in her bed, so I have to keep my stressed-out ass in this shitty chair.

    I watch as John gently ces a hand on her shoulder. He¡¯s being so careful with her. Whispering how worried he was. Telling her never to frighten him like that again.

    I knew that they had a solid rtionship, but ¨C being here, seeing this ¨C it¡¯s obvious how much they care for each other.

    Sasha opens her mouth to say something but before any soundes out, she closes it again. She might be in pain.

    ¡°Get the doctor.¡± I tell John, not taking my eyes off Sasha.

    I swear I hear his teeth grind as he points an angry finger in my direction. ¡°I¡¯ll get the doctor because Sasha needs him. Not because you fucking told me to. I¡¯m not going to turn into one of your brainless little minions.¡±

    For the first time in hours, I feel the smallest hint of a smile trying to form on my mouth. ¡°That¡¯s a shame.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s eyelids are drooping, but she looks peaceful. And amused.

    When the door shuts behind John, I kiss the back of her hand. ¡°I know, sweetheart. John and I in the same room is a bit of an adjustment. Bet you didn¡¯t see thating.¡±

    With the smallest movement, I watch as she shakes her head.

    I smirk and tilt my face so she can see the bruise that¡¯s starting to form on my cheek. ¡°He¡¯s a bit of a bully.¡±

    Sasha¡¯s eyes re and her lips part just as the door opens, letting John back in. Sasha does her best impression of an angry re.

    John sees her expression and freezes. ¡°What?¡±

    Sasha¡¯s voice is quiet, but we both hear it. ¡°You hit my boyfriend?¡±

    Now I¡¯m grinning.

    He slides his narrowed eyes at me.

    The doctor chooses that moment to walk in.

    John and I both reluctantly step back from Sasha¡¯s bed so the doctor can check her over. At this point, we¡¯re used to being silent around each other. We¡¯ve been in this room, watching Sasha, for hours. Wordlessly, we took turns getting coffee, making sure she was never alone. John might hate me, but I actually find myself liking him. Anyone this dedicated to Sasha is good in my book.

    Once the quick exam is over, the doctor helps Sasha take a sip of water before turning to us. ¡°You need to let her rest.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t say more, knowing that there¡¯s no chance in hell that we¡¯ll leave. But we will let her sleep.

    When the doctor¡¯s gone, I take my ce again in the chair at Sasha¡¯s side. I grab her hand and lean against the edge of her bed.

    She gives my fingers a faint squeeze before looking at John. ¡°Will you stay for a while?¡±

    ¡°I can do one better. I received the approval about an hour ago.¡± It¡¯s his turn to smirk. ¡°I¡¯m moving back. Permanently.¡±

    Well, shit.

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 73

    ¡°Sweetheart, you have a visitor.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s soft words wake me from my nap. I prefer to think of it as a nap and not the drug induceda that it probably is.

    I blink my eyes open. ¡°Who is it?¡±

    My voice is scratchy, and without me needing to ask, Vincent brings the straw from the water cup up to my lips. I take a sip, savoring the cool liquid.

    Vincent clears his throat. ¡°It¡¯s Cheryl.¡±

    His eyes search mine, looking for a reaction. I take a fortifying inhale and nod. I knew I¡¯d have to face my boss sooner orter. And honestly, hopped up on intravenous painkillers is probably the best way to deal with this conversation. Vincent¡¯s been extremely selective on who he¡¯s allowing into my room, so he must agree.

    ¡°Let her in.¡± Vincent says loud enough for Eric to hear, who¡¯s been sitting guard outside my door.

    Vincent grips my hand as Cheryl steps into my room.

    ¡°Oh, Sasha.¡± It¡¯s been a few days since everything went down, but it still looks like she might cry.

    I give her a small smile. ¡°Hi, Cheryl.¡±

    She looks back and forth between Vincent and I. Her eyes lingering on our joined hands.

    Turning to Vincent, I speak quietly. ¡°You can step out for a bit.¡±

    His eyebrow raises into that cocky look of his. ¡°I¡¯ll stay.¡±

    If I had the energy, I¡¯d flick him on the nose.

    ¡°Please, don¡¯t make him go on my behalf.¡± Cheryl shakes her head. ¡°I won¡¯t stay long. I know you need to rest.¡±

    With my free hand I gesture to an open chair. ¡°You can sit if you¡¯d like.¡±

    She waves the offer away and clears her throat. ¡°I¡¯ve been so worried. I just had toe and see you for myself. When it happened¡­¡± Losing her stiffposure, Cheryl steps forward and drops into the empty chair. ¡°The ambnce showed up before we knew anything was even wrong. And then¡­ I saw you¡­ on the stretcher.¡± Cheryl¡¯s voice cracks. ¡°My heart nearly stopped.¡±

    I extend my hand and she takes it. ¡°I¡¯m okay. I promise.¡±

    ¡°I can see that.¡± Her mouth turns up into a hint of a smile. ¡°Mr. Mazzanti here has been taking good care of you. I don¡¯t know if he told you, but I¡¯ve stopped by every day.¡±

    I look to Vincent, and he just shrugs. ¡°You needed to rest, baby.¡±

    I cringe a little at him calling me baby in front of Cheryl.

    She catches my reaction and chuckles.

    ¡°Oh, that cat has been out of the bag since the g.¡± Cheryl tells me. ¡°Well, I had a sneaking suspicion before then, but I have tomend you two on your ability to keep things professional.¡± When I blush, she adds, ¡°At least in front of others.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I say and Vincent lets out a small growl. I squeeze his fingers before continuing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the deception, and for potentially putting thepany¡¯s reputation at risk. But I can¡¯t say that I¡¯m sorry about falling in love with the client. Even if he is the real-life Mr. Sin.¡±

    Cheryl¡¯s beams at me as she brushes a tear off her cheek. ¡°Oh, you two. I just love love.¡± She lets out a big sigh before rising. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll get out of your hair. If there¡¯s anything I can do, please let me know. And of course, take as much time off as you need.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    When Cheryl pulls the door open, the sound of giggles float into the room.

    Cheryl rolls her eyes. ¡°Jessica is here, too. But I think she¡¯s gotten herself thoroughly distracted by your bodyguard.¡±

 Mr. Sin: Chapter 74

    Thirteen days. Thirteen long-ass days of never being alone. Not once.

    I know Vincent is just being protective, acting as though someone mighte and try to finish the job that Randal started. But he¡¯s officially gone off the deep end. And I¡¯m about to lose my mind.

    If Vincent absolutely had to be somewhere other than the hospital, he¡¯d make sure that John was in my room. Even after nearly two weeks of seeing them together, it¡¯s still strange to see my brother interact with Vincent. John is holding fast to the im that he hates Vincent, but I can see their friendship forming. Even when Vincent¡¯s being annoying as hell, he¡¯s an easy man to love.

    On the very few asions that both Vincent and John were unavable, I had Marie and Annie in my room. I think Eric must have a sleeping bag out in the hall somewhere, because he¡¯s never more than 30 seconds away. Any time I¡¯ve called for him, he¡¯s been there. And more than once, I¡¯ve woken up to find the hulking form of Angelo sitting in the corner of my room. I only screamed the first time that happened.

    As if all that isn¡¯t bad enough, Vincent has held meetings, as in plural, in my actual freaking hospital room. The first time I found Vincent, Brent, Angelo, Eric, two other guys from security, and a random manager I couldn¡¯t make eye contact with, all crowded around my bed, I threw an absolute fit. I thought I was convincing. I know I was inventive with my cursing. But when I finished, Vincent just smiled, kissed my head, and told me that he loved me. I wanted to kill him.

    There was even that time when I thought I could escape Vincent¡¯s ever-watchful eyes by hiding in my bathroom. I don¡¯t know what sort of money Vincent shelled out, but my recovery room looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, not a hospital. Usually I¡¯d fight against getting special treatment, but the bathroom alone is worth whatever cost Vincent paid. It¡¯s still clinical, but it¡¯srge and boasts a real door.

    When I was free from all my wires and tubes, and able to shuffle across the room on my own, I started to take advantage of the privacy. Seeing the opportunity one afternoon, I brought a book into the bathroom with me and just sat on the shower chair. I was only in there for ten minutes before Vincent opened the door and walked right in. No knock. And no need to pick a lock since there isn¡¯t a lock to begin with.

    Once again outraged, I asked what he would have done if I had been on the toilet. He just rolled his eyes and told me everyone poops as if that were enough of an exnation for invading my privacy. More cursing took ce, but it had no effect on his behavior.

    Needless to say, I am absolutely fucking thrilled to be getting out of here today.

    ¡°Alright, Miss rk you¡¯re all set to head home.¡± A nurse tells me with a nod. ¡°I¡¯ll have a wheelchair brought to your room in a few minutes, then you can leave.¡±

    I open my mouth to protest that I can walk, but Vincent cuts me off.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He says, nodding to the nurse.

    The nurse gives us a warm smile before stepping out of the room.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I start.

    ¡°Don¡¯t argue. As I¡¯m sure you know, it¡¯s hospital policy to be wheeled out. And even if it weren¡¯t, do you have any idea how long of a walk it is from here to the parking lot? I could carry you, but I¡¯m sure that¡¯d be ufortable for you.¡± He looks pointedly at my stomach.

    He¡¯s right. About everything. And I can¡¯t even be angry with him about his oundish behavior over thest two weeks. I came way, way too close to dying. Vincent¡¯s the reason I¡¯m still here at all. It was his quick response, and knowing to keep pressure on my gunshot wound, that kept me alive until the ambnce came. After that, a team of nurses and doctors worked medical miracles by performing immediate surgery, fishing out the bullet, and repairing the litany of internal damage it had caused. I prefer to not think about the details. That stupid little piece of metal wreaked havoc in my abdomen. I should make a full recovery, but I¡¯m not there yet.

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll let you push my wheelchair.¡± I cross my arms and slump back into the chair.

    Annie snickers from her perch in the chair next to mine.

    She¡¯s spent a lot of time here with me, and herpany is one of the only things that¡¯s kept me sane.

    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be on my side.¡± I jokingly re at her.

    ¡°I am.¡± She grins.

    ¡°We have a moment before we leave, and I¡¯d like to talk to you about something.¡± Vincent¡¯s tone is serious, and has me frowning.

    ¡°What is it? You¡¯re not in trouble, are you?¡± I ask, sitting forward.

    He had assured me that the police ruled the shooting a self-defense killing.

    ¡°No, sweetheart. It¡¯s not about that.¡±

    Relief detes my posture. ¡°Okay. Good. What is it then?¡±

    Vincent crouches in front of me. ¡°I know I¡¯ve been driving you a little crazy.¡±

    I cock an eyebrow at him. ¡°A little?¡±

    He ignores myment, reaching out to ce his hand on mine. ¡°I¡¯m not going to apologize. I need to be with you. I need you with me. I know that Randal is gone,¡¯ he growls the name. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t stop me from worrying about you. And after seeing you like this. In here. I can¡¯t stand the thought of having you anywhere but with me.¡±

    I roll my hand over, so our palms are touching. ¡°I¡¯m okay, Vincent. You don¡¯t have to worry about me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re exactly right. I won¡¯t have to worry. Because you¡¯ll be with me.¡± He uses his free hand to reach out and squeeze Annie¡¯s knee, who¡¯s beaming at me. ¡°You¡¯ll be with us.¡±

    I¡¯m on pretty mild pain killers now, but my brain can¡¯t make sense of what he¡¯s saying. ¡°What are you¡­ Are you asking me to move in with you?¡±

    Vincent¡¯s lips tug up into a cocky smile. ¡°I¡¯m not really asking. I¡¯ve already had your clothes and personal items moved into my apartment. If there¡¯s any furniture or kitchen stuff that you want to keep, we can arrange that. And don¡¯t forget about my house in the country. I know you haven¡¯t seen it yet, but you¡¯ll love it. We can bring stuff there, too.¡±

    My mouth literally pops open. ¡°You¡­¡± I don¡¯t know if I should be outraged, ttered, or have this manmitted. My mind rolls through so many questions but only onees out. ¡°What about Captain? Can you even have pets in your ce?¡±

    That¡¯s certainly not the most important issue here, but it¡¯s a ce to start.

    Annie is the one who replies. ¡°Captain has actually been living with us since the morning after¡­¡± She trails off, but quickly picks back up. ¡°He really likes it. Dad got one of those big cat climbing things. He put it up in front of the windows in the living room and Captain loves it.¡± She hunches her shoulders a little. ¡°He¡¯s been sleeping in my bed at night.¡±

    My eyes dart back and forth between father and daughter, finally narrowing on Vincent. This sneaky asshole knew what he was doing having Annie here for this conversation. I can¡¯t say no to her, and I can¡¯t yell at him in front of her.

    ¡°Vincent.¡± I squeeze his hand. ¡°This is a big step. I know a lot has happened¡­¡±

    I use my eyes to plead with him. He can be rash, and I don¡¯t want this to be something he regretster.

    Adjusting his crouch so he has one knee on the ground, he leans into me. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. You think I¡¯m not serious. You think that I might change my mind. That I don¡¯t have enough experience with rtionships. But sweetheart, I don¡¯t need experience, I just need you. And I don¡¯t need a single minute more to know that you¡¯re the one I want. The one I love. The one I fucking need.¡±

    Emotion squeezes my throat.

    Vincent holds out an open palm to Annie. She glides the zipper of her backpack open and slips her hand inside. My breath catches when she pulls out something small, handing it to her dad.

    ¡°Sweetheart.¡± Vincent whispers, kneeling in front of me. ¡°You¡¯re the only girlfriend I¡¯ve ever had. And you¡¯ll be the only wife I ever have.¡± He opens his palm to reveal a sparkling ring. ¡°Sasha rk, will you be my Mrs. Sin?¡±

 Mr. Sin: Epilogue

    ¡°Mrs. Mazzanti!¡± A reporter calls out my name. ¡°As the Director of Programs, how do you feel about Marie¡¯s House nearing its one-year anniversary?¡±

    The smile on my face is genuine as I reply. It¡¯s easy to tell the truth when things are going so well. Marie¡¯s House is functioning at full capacity and is fully funded for the next five years.

    Turns out Vincent was serious when he said he didn¡¯t want me to go work for some other rich asshole after my assignment at Mazzanti Enterprises. I should have put up a fight, maybe, but the opportunity to run Marie¡¯s House was something I just couldn¡¯t turn down. The chance to make a real difference in the lives of women and families looking for a fresh start, was a career change I didn¡¯t know I needed.

    Now I get to spend every day working with amazing people while feeling great about what I do. And I get to spend every night at home. With my family.

    Family. The word still makes my heart melt.

    Vincent and I flew to Vegas and got married exactly 6 months after our one-night stand. The ceremony was in a tiny no-name chapel and our only guests were Marie, Annie, Angelo and John.

    I think John is still eating antacids every time he sees Vincent, but secretly they¡¯re bing friends.

    ¡°Alright, folks.¡± Vincent¡¯s voice cuts through the noise of the press conference. ¡°Forgive me while I steal away my beautiful wife.¡±

    His warm palm presses into my lower back, guiding me away from the crowd.

    ¡°My hero.¡± I bat myshes at him.

    ¡°You¡¯re goddamn right, I am.¡± Vincent smirks down at me, those dark eyes locking on mine.

    ¡°What would I ever do without you?¡± I ask.

    His hand slips around my waist and pulls me tight against his side. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, sweetheart. Because you¡¯ll always have me.¡±<h3 id="calibre_pb_0" ss="calibre23">ANGELO

    Following those two down the hall, I try to stop my eyes from rolling. They¡¯re so stupidly in-love with each other it makes me want to gag.

    Maybe it¡¯s real. Anything is possible. But it¡¯s not for me. Love, marriage, and a fucking baby carriage. Hard pass. Firm no.

    Watching Vincent pull Sasha into his side, I¡¯m tempted to call him out for turning into a giant pussy. But I know better. Having grown up together, I know from experience that even though I¡¯m bigger, Vincent is ruthless.

    My phone vibrates and I nce at the screen before answering. ¡°Uncle Enzo. What¡¯s up?¡±

    His smoke-graveled voice rolls through the phone. ¡°I have a job for you. There¡¯s this girl-¡±

 Unholy Vows: Chapter 13

    Lucy calmed down as we tidied the room and fell into a restless, sullen silence. I was worried about her, but there wasn¡¯t much I could do but be by her side. We hung out in the room for most of the day, watching TV and reading. I chewed on my nails, a bad habit, and worried about everything my desperate mind could get its mitts on.

    <i ss="calibre2">When would I have to see Renato again? What the hell would the hospital think about my sudden absence? What about Detectives Whitely and Vane? They would suspect that something weird was going on. Maybe they¡¯d just think me and Lucy were dead. That would certainly be more in keeping with the De Sanctis code of business. How was I going to keep my head on straight when Renato touched me?</i>

    I took a shower and was just drying off when a knock sounded at the door.

    Elio stood outside. ¡°Come with me, Renato needs you.¡± He turned away.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I gestured to my towel. ¡°I have to get dressed.¡±

    ¡°Be quick,¡± Elio said.

    I closed the door and grabbed my clothes, changing quickly.

    Despite taking only a few minutes, Elio looked impatiently at his watch when I emerged again.

    We set off at a brisk pace. I had to nearly jog to stay at his side. He took me down to the lowest level. I balked at the top of the stairs.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to move down here,¡± I called to Elio¡¯s departing back. <i ss="calibre2">Crap</i>. Here I was, pushing Renato and talking back to him like I had any power in our rtionship, blithely forgetting what he could do to me if I pissed him off too much.

    ¡°Juste,¡± Elio called back.

    I had no choice, really. He¡¯d juste back and get me. I ventured down into the darkness.

    Below, the air was dank and muggy, I followed the De Sanctis enforcer through the gloom toward the room at the end, where lights zed. It was the same one I¡¯d been in before. The makeshift medical room. I should have been relieved to step into the bright lights after the gloom of the corridor, but the sight that met my eyes didn¡¯t allow for that. Men filled the room. Dangerous, tattooed men sporting suits and grim expressions. I¡¯d never seen so many De Sanctis men in one ce. It was overwhelming.

    Even more attention-grabbing was the sight of blood. Crimson all over the floor, like an overenthusiastic art student had gone to town on a concrete canvas. A man sat in the middle, partially covered with a nket. Every single pair of eyesnded on me as I entered after Elio, but they all fell away when Renato¡¯s eyes met mine.

    He was right there, a king amongst his merry band of hardened criminals, and he stared right at me.

    The touch of his dark, maic eyes was like a caress. His gaze gripped me and locked me in ce as effectively as arge hand wrapped around my throat.

    ¡°Charlotte, we¡¯ve been waiting for you,¡± Renato said, his deep voice doing something to loosen my sudden paralysis.

    It was like bing absorbed in watching a savagely beautiful panther sitting behind safety ss. His voice, low and intimate, felt like that ss had suddenly shattered all around you, or worse, you were in the cage with the predator. There was an edge to him now. He shot a look at Elio, and I read it easily. We¡¯d taken too long toe. He was tense, worried about his wounded solider, maybe. Odd that there would be a side to Renato, the merciless kingpin, who cared about the health of a random henchman. Maybe I didn¡¯t know him as well as I feared.

    I stepped forward, moving like a windup doll, jerking back to life.

    ¡°What happened here?¡±

    ¡°My man is hurt,¡± Renato replied smoothly, rising to his intimidating height and stalking toward me. ¡°I need you to help him.¡±

    ¡°How did he get hurt?¡± I asked.

    ¡°He was in a car ident. Help him.¡±

    There was no room to argue with hismanding tone, and besides, since my first sight of the bleeding man, the caregiver in me had been distracted, itching to get close and triage the situation.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you call an ambnce?¡±

    ¡°You were closer, little nurse.¡±

    ¡°Right, like I¡¯m the same as a hospital,¡± I muttered, pulling the metal supply cart toward me and surveying the contents. I reached for the disinfectant and doused my hands liberally before snapping on gloves. It was hot in the room with all the brooding and intimidating bodies packed in.

    ¡°When did this happen?¡±

    ¡°Not long ago. It was only a few minutes¡¯ drive from here, and he was brought here immediately.¡±

    I nodded and focused on the job at hand.

    ¡°Do you need something?¡± Renato asked, standing just behind my shoulder, watching me closely.

    ¡°Some space would be good,¡± I snapped, and shifted into nurse mode. It was easier to pretend that this was just another patient with well-meaning family hovering nearby.

    Renato didn¡¯t say a word, and apparently a look was enough tomunicate his desires to his men, as they filed out, talking in low tones. Elio remained, lounging on the edge of a crate pushed against the wall and lighting a cigarette.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked him over my shoulder.

    He shrugged and spoke to Renato in what I guessed was Italian. I couldn¡¯t make out much, but my high school Spanish gave me the gist of the situation. A turf fight with a rival family.

    The bleeding man groaned, and I focused on him, shuffling forward on the dirty floor and spreading my jacket out beneath me, keeping my hands as clean as possible.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked him.

    ¡°P-Paolo¡­ I¡¯m Paolo,¡± the man muttered.

    Up close, I could tell he was around my age,te twenties. He had blue eyes, clouded with pain, and as I got closer, theytched on to me.

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t want to die. Please,¡± he muttered quietly.

    ¡°I know. It¡¯s okay¡­ I¡¯m going to look and see what we have here,¡± I soothed, falling back on tried-and-tested phrases to calm and yet not make promises. Promises always bit you in the ass.

    His head bled copiously. I was shocked that he could speak at all. I checked around the back of his head, hiding my grimace. The man had suffered head trauma, of that there was no doubt, and it always presented differently. I couldn¡¯t know the oue of that right at this second, so I moved on to his middle.

    Shifting the nket, I fought a gasp at the sight of this battered torso. I had no idea how this man was still conscious.

    ¡°This man needs to go to the hospital ¨C now!¡± I called over my shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s minutes away from losing too much blood. He has blunt force trauma to the chest and internal bleeding. It¡¯s a miracle it hasn¡¯t killed him already. He needs surgery and blood, and honestly, a miracle.¡±

    Paolo panted and gripped my arm. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die there¡­I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°But I can¡¯t save you here,¡± I protested, panic pressing down on me. Truthfully, no one could save him. His body was wrecked. I had no idea how many organs were bleeding and ripped beyond repair. He was already dead. It was a sobering realization.

    ¡°Please, no¡­¡± Paolo shook his head, his eyes losing focus.

    I twisted around and stared at Renato, who watched the scene without emotion.

    ¡°Can he be saved?¡± Renato murmured.

    <i ss="calibre2">No. It¡¯s toote. </i>Dread slid through me. Honestly, even if an ambnce had arrived immediately at the scene of the ident and taken him straight to the hospital, it wouldn¡¯t have changed anything. There were too many broken parts, and not enough time to fix them. It was a cruel twist of fate that he was awake and coherent enough to understand what was happening to him.

    This man was going to die, and I was the only person here who could have done a damn thing about it, and I was powerless. People died all the time in the hospital, but it didn¡¯t feel like this. I was never alone with them. I was never the only one whose shoulders it rested on. There, it was clinical and professional. Here, in the stuffy dark, with Paolo¡¯s fear filling up the room, there was an intimacy to his demise that hit me hard in the gut.

    Renato must have seen the truth in my expression because he merely nodded and then took off his suit jacket. He rolled his sleeves up. He had ink on his arms, but I couldn¡¯t make out what it was.

    He nodded to Elio and approached. I knelt in the pool of the dying man¡¯s blood, knowing there was nothing I could do about it.

    ¡°Breathe, Charlotte,¡± Renato said, crouching next to me.

    A warm feeling surrounded me. It was Renato¡¯s jacket, thrown around my shoulders.

    ¡°Breathe now,¡± he ordered and took my chin in a firm grip, breaking me from my reverie.

    I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been shivering until the heat of Renato¡¯s coat surrounded me. I dragged a rough breath into my lungs and then another, my eyes snapping to his.

    ¡°Good girl.¡± He leaned down and forced my hazy gaze to meet his. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±

    Renato¡¯s deep voice warmed my chilled skin. Hands closed on my shoulders, and then I was standing. I stared at the man who nned to marry me. He stood in a pool of blood, his dark eyes fixed on me.

    ¡°You tried your best, <i ss="calibre2">bambina</i>. It¡¯s not your fault,¡± he repeated.

    Elio turned me away from Paolo and Renato and led me to the crate he¡¯d been sitting on. He smelled like tobo, and the scent mixed with the harsh metallic tang of Paolo¡¯s lifeblood coating the floor.

    I sat on the crate, and Elio stood against my side, a wordless wall of support to keep me upright.

    Renato now sat beside his dying man. Red smeared his white shirt and his skin. He sat in the puddle of blood unflinchingly andid a hand on Paolo¡¯s shoulder, leaning down to make sure he could see him. Paolo seemed to wake up from his delirium a little as he realized who held his hand.

    ¡°Elisia and the baby¡­¡± he muttered. His face was paling more and more by the second. It wouldn¡¯t be long now.

    ¡°Are family. They will have everything they need and want, as long as they both shall live. They will want for nothing, <i ss="calibre2">fratello mio</i>.¡±

    Paolo nodded, a touch of a smile brushing his bloodless lips, then he shuddered. ¡°It¡¯s so cold here ¨C I miss the sun. The sun on our skin, like when we used to swim in Capri.¡± He broke off and shuddered again.

    Renato patted his shoulder and put his forehead to Paolo¡¯s. ¡°That¡¯s where we are now, isn¡¯t it? I can feel it on my skin; I can smell the oranges from the grove by Torre Saracena.¡±

    Paolo¡¯s eyes closed, and that slight smile settled on his lips. It was thest expression he would ever make.

    After he was gone, Renato sat for a long moment, his head still pressed to the dead man¡¯s. I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes from the scene. The bloodstained kingpin mourning the loss of one of his men.

    When Renato rose, he carefullyid Paolo down, and Elio went to help, closing the eyes of the deceased.

    I stood forlornly, clutching the edges of Renato¡¯s jacket in my bloody hands. I went to slip it off. He crossed to me, his shirt a Pollockian nightmare of bloodstains.

    ¡°Keep it.¡± He nced meaningfully at my dripping-wet hair. ¡°Don¡¯t get sick.¡±

    ¡°So, I¡¯m supposed to think you¡¯re worried about my health now?¡± The words burst from me before I could stop them. I was shaken from what had just happened and blurting out desperate things. I couldn¡¯t reconcile the man I¡¯d just seenforting a dying solider with the same one who would take two women hostage and force one to marry him.

    His gaze ran over my face, his dark eyes seeming to drink me in. I couldn¡¯t take his intense inspection. He used up all the air in the room.

    ¡°You promised to look after his family. Will you really?¡± I heard myself ask, my brain searching for some way to break the tension between us.

    ¡°Something you wille to learn about me, little nurse, is I always keep my word. Always.¡±

    He leaned in, bringing his lips only inches from mine, so close his breath gently caressed my top lip. He held that pose as I wondered wildly if he was going to kiss me again. Was this one of those kisses that gangsters gave you before killing you? I had to binge some mob movies. I had no fucking clue what to expect from this man, and my heart might give out worrying about it.

    ¡°My word is my bond, and yours will be, too¡­Don¡¯t forget your promise to me, Charlotte. I never said you had to be a happy bride, just that you have to keep your word.¡±

    Then he pulled away, and I sagged, unsure whether I was relieved or disappointed. Just the fact that disappointment even shed through my mind was evidence that I was losing my grip on my sanity.

    ¡°Elio will take you upstairs.¡±

    I followed Elio wordlessly from the room, leaving Renato in the shadows behind us. The men outside crossed themselves morbidly as I passed, feeling like an angel of death in my bloodstained T-shirt. Then they headed back into the room with Paolo.

    ¡°What are they doing?¡±

    ¡°Giving Paolo a proper send-off, and then the boss will go and let the widow know the news. She just had a baby a few months ago,¡± Elio continued quietly.

    I swallowed a sudden, intense urge to cry. ¡°That¡¯s horrible.¡±

    Elio simply nodded as we reached the stairs and started upward. ¡°That¡¯s life.¡±