Page 33 of Made for Sinners

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about the Russians or the mole. Valentina always had a bigger picture in mind, one no one else could see until it was too late.

Her connections, her calm, her confidence—it was all part of the game. She was playing chess while the rest of us were still figuring out checkers.

And I hated that it made her dangerous.

Because dangerous was exactly what we needed right now.

My phone buzzed against the table, a subtle vibration that broke through my thoughts. I ignored it. Then it buzzed again. And again.

Luca, who’d been lounging in his chair like a bored teenager, perked up at the sound. His sharp gaze flicked to me, then to the phone vibrating insistently by my elbow. He arched an eyebrow, his grin widening with pure mischief.

Before I could react, his hand darted out, snatching the phone off the table like a thief in the night.

“What the hell, Luca,” I growled, reaching for it, but he leaned back in his chair, holding it just out of reach.

“Oh, relax,” he said, his tone far too amused for my liking. His thumb was already scrolling through the notifications, his grin stretching wider with every flick of the screen. Then he laughed—loud and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that made my stomach sink because IknewI wasn’t going to like whatever he’d just found.

“Oh, this is gold,” he said, holding up the phone like it was a damn prize. His eyes gleamed with pure delight. “$1,500 at Agent Provocateur? And you, sad sack, don’t even get to see her in it.”

I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding together as Rafe, seated at the head of the table, let out a low chuckle. His lips twitched—barely noticeable, but enough to reveal that evenhewasn’t immune to the humor of the situation.

“Careful, brother,” Rafe said, his tone as cool as ever. “She might make you broke. I’d better call the accountant to separate assets before she drains you dry.”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, snatching the phone out of Luca’s hand.

But even as I pulled it back, my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t stop myself from scrolling through the notifications, my eyes scanning the list of transactions. Lingerie. More lingerie. A suspicious number of purchases from obscure Russian boutiques. And then?—

“Starbucks mugs?” I said aloud, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Luca, who’d been busy laughing at my expense, froze mid-laugh. His head snapped toward me, his interest piqued. “Wait, what?”

I held up the phone, the screen illuminated with her latest transaction: $200 for a Tokyo Starbucks mug bought from some overpriced reseller.

“She’s buying Starbucks mugs,” I repeated, a laugh rumbling in my chest despite myself.

Rafe arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Mugs? As in… ceramic cups?”

“Apparently,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “She’s building a collection, I guess.”

Luca was practically in tears at this point. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen. Your fiancée is out here spending your money on overpriced coffee cups while you’re sitting in a meeting about Russian money laundering.”

“Go to hell,” I said, but the corner of my mouth twitched despite myself.

Ignoring Luca’s continued cackling, I typed out a message, my fingers flying across the keyboard with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Me:So, Starbucks mugs? Really?

The response came almost immediately, as if she’d just been waiting for me to take the bait.

Emilia:What can I say? I’m a woman of refined taste.

I smirked, leaning back in my chair as I quickly fired back.

Me:Refined taste? Is that what you call $1,500 worth of lingerie?

There was a pause—a longer one this time—and I imagined her sitting there, trying to come up with a response that would one-up me. Then, finally:

Emilia:A girl’s gotta look good. Not that you’ll ever see it.

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