Page 9 of Heartless Sinner

That was—not what I was expecting. I stared at him in surprise.

Vincent’s smirk was dark and knowing. “Were you expecting me to say something else?”

“No,” I lied. “Dinner at six tomorrow. I can do that.”

I knew he was being generous by offering to win me over. This was the fucking mafia. He could simply go to my father and demand I marry him—marry him tomorrow morning, even—and I would have to agree if I wanted any chance of obtaining answers and vengeance. Vincent offering to try and… woo me, for lack of a better term… it was more than most of us got in this cold, callous world.

But I wasn’t about to be won over easily, either. I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’d better bring your ‘A’ game.”

Vincent laughed, sounding a little startled, like he hadn’t expected me to say something so bold, but seemed to like that I wasn’t a pushover. “Oh, Miss Preston, I assure you I never bring anything less.”

And that’s what worried me most of all.

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Chapter Five

Vincent

* * *

If my father found out that I was trying to court Marla Preston, he’d probably blow a fuse. I could already hear the lecture in my head. For one thing, why was courting supposed to matter? I was elevating her stature in the world, and giving her an alliance with a powerful family. For another, he’d harp on the fact that I had other business to attend to, and I shouldn’t be wasting my time trying to win over a woman when I could force any number of suitable, proper females to become my wife and be done with it.

But I’d decided if I was going to appease my father, then I didn’t want a marriage in name only to a woman I didn’t have anything in common with other than mafia ties, and especially one who didn’t appeal to me, intellectually or physically. In just the short time we’d spent together the previous evening, Marla had given me a glimpse of her smart, perceptive mind, along with a remarkable understanding of what I needed in a wife. I already admired her logic and insight, so she easily checked the intellectual box.

Sexually, the attraction between us was definitely mutual, and the fact that I’d taken my dick in hand after she’d left, jacking off with visions of her spread out naked on my bed, assured me I’d have no issues enjoying her lush body and all the conjugal pleasures that came with being married to her.

I wanted Marla, and I wanted her to want me. As much as I’d touted this proposal as a quid pro quo, I had to admit, even if it was just to myself, that I wanted more than just a tit for tat arrangement. Because even after the issue with her brother’s murder was taken care of, we would be united together. ‘Till death do us part.

After getting a good sample of her strong, stubborn personality, I knew that winning her over wasn’t going to be easy. And even though I saw Marla as a challenge, I wasn’t about to let my guard down, either. I’d already told Toby that I would need him to look into the Preston family—I wanted every single bit of information we could scrounge up on them. I wanted not just their business ventures and practices, but their individual vices, their virtues, all of it.

“Are you sure about this, sir?” Toby asked with a frown when I gave him the orders.

“Yes,” I lied.

I wasn’t sure at all. But Marla was intoxicating in a way I’d never experienced before. The way she neatly explained why all of the women in the files wouldn’t be right for me, showing not only a shockingly deep understanding of me but a comprehensive grasp of what was needed in a partnership, in the mafia world where we lived… it had been damn sexy to watch her work, to see how smart and educated and confident she was.

Where was I going to find another woman like that? Especially a woman who wasn’t afraid of me. No other woman—and very few men—would have dared to speak to me the way she had. Like I had to earn her attention and respect.

She intrigued and fascinated me. And yeah, it sure wasn’t a problem that she was breath-takingly beautiful. This was a woman who’d keep me on my toes. The idea of winning her over, of making her desire me, beg for me in my bed…the thought made my entire body pulse with heat.

I was going to marry Marla Preston, and no one else.

The first step would be to show her all the finer things in life that I could give her. The Russo family was powerful for a reason and any wife of mine was going to feel like a queen. If a man couldn’t indulge his wife and give her all the little things her heart desired to make her feel special, then what kind of man was he?

I made sure to get information from Toby on what Marla’s tastes were. She’d seemed to appreciate my apartment—she’d cast a discerning and critical eye over the surrounding area and furnishings. And her watch and earrings, although expensive, weren’t gaudy, and they were the only jewelry she’d worn. So she wasn’t into high-end designer items just because they were expensive, or just so she could show them off. She enjoyed them because of their true quality.

That immediately eliminated several restaurants from my plan for dinner that evening. No sense in going to a place like Per Se when you only went there to see and be seen and flaunt your wealth. When Toby brought me back intel that she liked seafood and often ordered ramen, I immediately knew where to take her.

I drove one of my own cars to pick her up, a comfortable, higher end Audi coupe—black and sleek on the outside, and quiet and luxurious on the inside. Marco favored loud, flashy sports cars, but I preferred something more understated—and with plenty of secret security options added on. You never knew who might be after you, or when, and I was a man who liked to be prepared for anything.

Because this thing between Marla and I wasn’t public just yet—whatever ‘this thing’ was—I had her wait for me at the park around the corner from her house, so nobody would gossip when they saw who was picking her up.

My dick stirred in my pants and my jaw just about dropped when I saw her. Holy shit. Her thick dark hair was pulled back and up in a kind of braided bun that had me itching to undo it and run my fingers through the strands. The sophisticated style exposed the pale column of her neck and the slope of her slender shoulders, making my mouth water to taste her creamy skin. And the dress she was wearing—the daring dark red, the strapless top, and the fitted skirt that accentuated her gorgeous legs all the way down to her fuck me heels—the outfit was practically screaming for me to rip it off her body.

Down, boy, I reminded myself. I wasn’t about to ravish her in the back of my car, as much as I wanted to. I’d seen the way her breath had hitched and her eyes had gone dark as I’d stood close to her last night. There was no doubt in my mind that I could coax her into wanting me, at least in bed. But I wasn’t in this for a quick fuck. I wanted more than just her enticing figure and soft curves—but I couldn’t deny that the things I could do to her tight, sexy body to make her scream with pleasure would just be a fantastic bonus.

Pulling up to the curb, I got out of the car and walked around to the other side, opening the passenger door for her. “You look stunning.”

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