Page 30 of Souls and Sorrows

“Ah, but you said you don’t cheat.”

Something flashes in her hazel eyes—a memory or perhaps that latent fear she refuses to allow to take root inside of her. Whatever the case, it’s gone before I can decipher it, and she’s spreading my fingers and curling them around her tit.

“Idon’tcheat,” she confirms, making me squeeze her tight. Her skin is soft, the tissue heavy, and I’m so fucking tempted to look or give in. “But it’s kind of canceled out if you’re already being cheated on, don’t you think?”

Her words are oddly hollow, and I consider Vitus’s remark the night of the auction about Ariana owing him something. His unfaithfulness certainly seems to be no secret to anyone in the underworld, so did she retaliate, and now, he feels they have some sort of score to settle?

Or is it merely a possession thing? He wants Ariana because of what she symbolizes—sex, money, power—and isn’t appreciative when someone comes in and takes it from right under his nose.

I suppose that makes us more similar than I care for.

“Besides, if you and I arepracticallyalready married, sex is expected. Right?” She shifts, shoving her thigh between mine, and I swallow a grunt that erupts in my throat as she presses into my erection. “So, just consider it your exchange, except without having to go through the official channels.”

“Your father should’ve brought you in to broker deals more often. Bet he wouldn’t be in prison if you’d offered this to the DA.”

She scoffs, trailing her free hand up the front of my suit. “Like I’d use my powers to benefit him.”

“Bad blood?”

Her jaw clenches, a shadow forming in her gaze. She forces my hand to squeeze harder, gripping tighter. My fingers buzz, desperate to take over.

“You’re really inquisitive, you know that?”

“Well, I’m a lawyer. That’s kind of my job.”

“And I’m standing here, naked, letting you feel me up. Maybe figure out how to clock out.”

When she finally releases me, I let my hand fall to the indent of her waist, smoothing my thumb over a short half-inch section of skin. My pulse throbs, vibrating beneath my fingerprint, and then I suck in a deep breath and move back a step.

Confusion knits her brows together, and alarm flashes briefly across her face. “What are you doing?”

Clearing my throat, I ignore the way my cock presses against my slacks as I bend down, retrieving her discarded clothing. I extend my arm as I stand back up, holding the costume out for her and keeping my eyes trained solely on her face.

“We have things to do,” I say, not waiting for her to reach out and take the clothes before I cross my arms over my chest. “An official announcement to send out, legal documents to sign, and a honeymoon to concoct. Whatever else you’re offering for the duration of this arrangement, I’m not interested.”

The lie burns as it scrapes through my esophagus and across my tongue, but I force it out anyway.

Truth is, I’m more interested than I want to be, and I have no clue what I would ever do with someone like Ariana.

She’s wicked. Sin wrapped in a beautiful, angelic human form that I fear I’d never be quite sated with after one taste.

So, I won’t allow indulgence at all.

She catches the clothes before they fall, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not interested.”

“I’m not.”

For several seconds, she just stares at me, unblinking. I can tell that isn’t a sentence she’s used to hearing, and I’m not sure she fully believes it either, which is concerning. If she put real effort in, I’m certain she would wear down my resistance, and then all of this would have been for nothing.

Finally, her face becomes pensive, and she tilts her head to one side, studying me. “What’s in this for me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you get those things you said—money, power. I don’t really know why you want Ricci Inc. since it’s kind of a shit show these days, but, hey, maybe you know something I don’t.” She shrugs. “So, what do I get—besides the alibi I’m not really sure I even need? What’s my incentive to cooperate instead of just running again?”

A small, maniacal smirk plays at the corners of my mouth, pushing them up so the curved edges etch into my face. It’s the first time I’ve even sort of smiled in her presence, and I can tell it catches her off guard. She frowns, covering herself with the leotard and stockings.

“Well,” I say, cocking a brow, “what do you want?”

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