Page 70 of Sixth Sin

“Tell your bitches to get the fuck out.”

“Ay!” Carlo yells, jabbing his gun at me. “Watch your mouth!”

“Dominic.” Luciano nods, leaning back in his chair like I’m not about to blow his head off. “Your manners have gotten worse.”

“My apologies. Tell your bitches to get the fuck out, please.”

He chuckles to himself and waves a hand, his eyes never leaving me. “Go.”

“But boss—”

Only then does Luciano turn around, fixing Carlo with a cold stare. “What part of ‘go’ did you not understand, stronzo?”

Carlo grits his teeth. “Whatever you say.” This time on his way out, he doesn’t brush my shoulder. He slinks out without another word.

“Now,” Luciano says, and I direct my attention back to where he still hasn’t bothered to pull one of the four guns I know he has stashed in his desk. “What can I do for you?”

Somehow, that pisses me off more. It’s like he thinks I’m not a threat. Like he thinks I wouldn’t have the balls to pull the trigger and watch him bleed out in his own office.

“You can answer two questions.”

“Gluttonous, but I’m listening.”

I don’t bother mincing words. “Are you pulling some backdoor shit with the cops?”

He raises a curious eyebrow. “What kind of a question is that?”

“A point blank one. Just like the shot I’m about to fire if you don’t explain why Detective Javier Rubio is following me around asking questions about Freddy Wiseman.”

“Possibly because the man was found looking like a pile of warm Jell-O at the bottom of suicide bridge.” The sound of glass clinking fills the room as he tips a bottle of Sinatra Select over a glass sitting on his desk. “After stalking you and your heiress, of course. Not to mention taking a very compromising picture.”

Just the mention of that damn picture sets off another firestorm of hatred, and I rush toward him. “If you think I’m going to take the fall for this—”

Luciano smirks as he hovers the glass at his lips. “Oh, relax, Dominic. Your friend, Rubio is pulling shit out of his ass and throwing it against the wall just to see what sticks.” Taking an indulgent drink, he sets it down and hooks me with a critical stare. “If he has anything, it’s because you’ve forgotten how this game is played and fucked up.”

“I haven’t forgotten shit, and I don’t fuck up.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” he says, the words laced with challenge. “Now, I believe you had two burning questions.”

If I wasn’t so pissed, I might enjoy watching Luciano twist the truth into balloon animals. But we’re not on the same side anymore, and I don’t trust him. “I want to know what the hell you thought you were doing showing up at the Romanov mansion.”

He presses his lips in a thin line, watching me carefully as if every twitch and blink is a piece of an invisible puzzle. Finally, that thin line spreads into a smirk. “To verify what I already suspected.”

“And what is that?”

His eyes narrow as he reaches for his precious cigar box. “You’re panicked, Dominic and not for the reason you should be.” Opening the top, he pulls out a Cuban and points it at me. “You’re falling in love with this girl.”

I almost wince. Not because it’s true, but because the idea is too deplorable to even consider. I can’t love anyone. You have to have a heart to love someone.

No, I don’t love Angel. I like her. I want to fuck her. I prefer her alive rather than dead.

But love?

Hell no.

“Don’t be stupid,” I growl. “You know I don’t believe in that shit. Love is weakness. You taught me that.”

He dips his chin before clipping the end off the cigar. “So, I did.”

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