Page 50 of Heartless Sinner

“Is what why I picked you?” I didn’t understand and propped myself up on my elbow.

“Because I was the woman who didn’t want to be in the mafia.” She shrugged. “Because I was the soft one.”

She sounded almost sad, like I had disappointed her. Or—no, not that. Like a hope had been dashed.

I pressed her down into the mattress and kissed her. “If you were soft you wouldn’t make it in this world. I don’t want a wife who’s just one thing. I want a wife who’s everything, and that’s you.” I knew that without a doubt.

I pulled back to stare at her, gently moving her hair out of her face. She was beautiful, those wide blue eyes staring up at me. “You’re everything.”

“Careful,” Marla whispered. She sounded like she was joking, or trying to be humorous, but it didn’t come out quite lighthearted enough. “Or I might start to think you actually have feelings for me.”

I stared at her. Did she think that I didn’t? I hadn’t said anything, obviously. First of all because I frankly didn’t believe you could fall in love with someone at first sight or whatever the hell, but second of all because as much as I wanted to win her heart I didn’t want to scare her away by overwhelming her. I’d already done plenty—buying her jewelry and clothes, taking her out to fancy dinners. I’d figured she would get the message and once this whole thing with her brother was cleared up we could… discuss our feelings more honestly.

But—did she think this was purely political to me? What, that I just touched every woman like this? Kissed every woman like this?

I opened my mouth to say so, to offer up explanations, but a knock sounded at the door. And it didn’t sound like Toby’s knock, either, which put me on alert.

I got up, my hand reaching for the gun on my nightstand even as my other hand found my pants to slip them on again. As soon as Marla saw how cautious I was being, she grabbed a shirt and silently moved towards the bathroom, obviously to lock herself in, but I shook my head and indicated the wall between the bed and the window.

A confused look passed across Marla’s face, but she obeyed and went to the wall, a moment later understanding my reasons. As I went to the door, gun in hand, I saw her feeling along the bedside drawer.

She’d figured it out, smart girl. I had a panic room.

When I got to the door, I chanced a quick look at the secondary peephole. As any good mafia hitman will tell you, looking through the peephole on a door is an unwise decision. The person on the other side can see your shadow as you move in front, and they’ll shoot you through the peephole, right in the head. Excellent execution method.

But I’d installed a small, basic periscope system in the door into a secondary slot on the side of the door. It was basic, just using the trick of mirrors, but I’d chosen it over elaborate security cameras since anyone who was bold enough to go after me in my own home would be skilled enough to know how to scramble or cut any security feeds I’d installed.

When I looked through the secondary peephole, my heart started racing—but not because someone was here to kill me.

I straightened up and tucked my gun into the back of my pants. “Get dressed,” I told Marla. “And straighten up the bed.”

She did as she was told, giving me a questioning look.

Once she was decent, I opened the door for my father to step in. “Buongiorno, Father.”

Dear old Dad stepped into the room, his two bodyguards following him. Behind them was Toby, giving me an apologetic look. Yeah, I didn’t blame him, he couldn’t exactly say no to the boss’s boss. And what was he going to tell them? Your son’s busy having sex?

Given how the last time Dad had been told that he’d walked in on Marco anyway. I didn’t think that was going to fly for me.

“I figured it was time I met this girl you started a fight over,” Dad said, his hawkish gaze finding Marla, who stood in the living room.

Marla, to her credit, didn’t act startled, even while wearing clothes that were obviously hastily yanked on. She walked over and politely inclined her head. “Mr. Russo. It’s a pleasure to meet the man who raised such an excellent son.”

“You can spare the flattery.”

“I don’t flatter,” Marla replied, her voice even but her blue eyes crackling.

Dad looked startled. I couldn’t remember the last time someone, even Marco, had talked back to him like that. Yes, he and Dante argued a lot but arguing over ideology was not the same as sassing.

He looked at me. I grinned and shrugged. Not because I wanted to piss my father off but because I wanted to show that I supported Marla speaking her mind. I didn’t want my wife cowed any more than my mother had been, and she’d never had a problem telling my dad when she thought he was being an idiot.

Dad didn’t look impressed. “When I told you that you needed to get married, I assumed you’d be smart enough to know to bring me the woman before you announced it to the world. I guess I was wrong and I have three idiot sons instead of just two.”

“Dante’s not an idiot,” I said quickly, always unable to stop myself from defending my youngest brother. “And I wasn’t going to give you the chance to veto Marla. She was the only one I wanted.”

I wasn’t going to tell Dad about how I’d made a deal with Marla in exchange for the marriage. That would only make him think she wasn’t trustworthy or reliable, and that she was only in this arrangement for herself. And while I’d had my suspicions about her and probably still should, I couldn’t believe that she was a good enough actress to have played me that well. Not after everything we’d already gone through in such a short period of time.

“I expected you to make a strong alliance,” Dad replied, eyeing Marla like she was a disappointing race horse. “Not pick the one you liked to fuck the most.”

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