Epilogue Two
DANTE
I trust you implicitly.
Is Enzo fucking kidding me?
I run a club with a taste for the dark and depraved. Who would trust me?
I’m pretty sure my brother will have my balls in a vise if he even begins to suspect all the ways I want to punish this little petulant child for every last one of her sins.
From the rich leather seat in the private room at my bar, I shake my head. Who hands a bunny to a wolf and says, “Take care of it?”
When she strides into my lair, auditioning to be a dancer, my first instinct is to warn her off. But when she protests, burning with defiance, I open the door and show her in.
Silly Feds...thinking they can keep her safe. I’m more danger than she’s ever known. And now, she’s in my domain.
My club. My rules.
But the situation is delicate. The girl has Handle With Care tattooed all over her incredible body—so much so that it’s taking every last ounce of my strength to stay in control.
But if the girl wants a high-paying job with ironclad guarantees no one will find her, done. Because I want her locked in a binding contract with a few small rules.
Rule One: Tell no one.
Rule Two: I select her outfit, complete with a blindfold.
Rule Three: No other men in her life.
Why the blindfold? Call it a little trust exercise. For us both. That and clients enjoy a certain amount of anonymity.
Why Rule Three? Because I’m a possessive prick, and that Fed Knox is already on my last nerve.
And if she breaks the rules? Let's just say little girls shouldn't break rules. Though every inch of me thrums with the certainty that she will.
God, even from here, Riley smells like heaven and moves like hell. Sin wrapped in the body of an angel, she’s definitely more trouble than I need. Unconditionally off-limits. Irresistibly forbidden.
She’s young, so fucking young, and my mind spins with ways to “take care of it.”
The devil on my shoulder smirks. You’re goddamned right, I’ll take care of it .
I study her, the way her body sways in perfect rhythm to the slow ballad. My newest obsession is marked off with bright yellow Do Not Enter tape. But as long as I just look with my eyes, no harm, right?
The whiskey burns a line down my throat as I tally up all the ways I'm damned. Because deep down, I know it's not a question of if Riley will be ruined. It's when .
What sweet, little Riley fails to realize is she has only one client—me.
Thank you for reading SINS SINS
Need another angsty romance? Try out the Boys of Bishop Mountain!
1-CLICK MARKED
Eight years ago I nearly died.
And it wasn’t that I didn’t remember her.
I didn’t recognize her. There’s a difference.
She was a kid.
And I was a soldier . . .
Two seconds from deploying with her brother for our third, and final, tour.
One I wasn’t sure I’d be coming back from.
She thinks I don’t remember.
That kiss was beautiful. Innocent.
It kept me alive when I thought it might be my last.
How could I ever forget?
So, shove me off all you want, country girl.
Because you’ve just landed in my sights,
And you’re about to be mine.