Page 16 of Made for Sinners

Turning the chair around, I sank into it with a heavy sigh, the leather creaking under my weight. The glass was cool against my palm as I took a slow sip, the burn of the whiskey grounding me in the present.

From here, the city looked almost serene. Deceptively so. I knew better than anyone that beneath the glittering facade lay a world of corruption and betrayal, a world I’d built my empire on. And now, that world was threatening to collapse—not because of some rival family or external threat, but because of the Riccis.

Fucking Riccis.

I set the glass down on the armrest, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. The events of the past few days playedout in my mind like a bad movie, each scene more infuriating than the last. Emilia’s accusations, her father’s pathetic attempts at damage control, her brothers’ smug indifference—it all made my blood boil.

And yet, beneath the anger, there was something else. Something I didn’t want to name.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found the number I was looking for. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered, smooth and professional.

“Dante,” my lawyer greeted. “I assume this isn’t a social call.”

“Draft the contract,” I said, leaving no room for argument. “I want it airtight. No loopholes, no room for negotiation. And make sure her lawyer gets a copy by tomorrow morning. I want her to see exactly how little control she has over this.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, the sound of papers shuffling in the background. “Understood. Any specific provisions you’d like me to include?”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the phone. “Make sure she’s taken care of,” I said finally, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “If something happens to me—or if this arrangement falls apart—she gets what she needs. No questions asked.”

The lawyer didn’t respond right away, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He knew better than to question my decisions, but I could tell he was curious.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I’ll handle it.”

“Good.” I ended the call without another word, tossing the phone onto the desk.

This wasn’t about Emilia. It was about proving a point. Her family needed to understand the consequences of their actions, needed to see that their carelessness had nearly cost them everything. This marriage was a means to an end, a way to ensure their loyalty while I cleaned up the mess they’d made.

But that didn’t mean I wanted her to suffer.

I poured myself another drink, the whiskey swirling in the glass as I leaned back in the chair. My thoughts drifted to the conversation in her father’s study, the way she’d looked at me with equal parts hatred and fear. She was stronger than I’d expected, more defiant. It would have been admirable if it weren’t so infuriating.

The phone buzzed again, and this time it was my brother. I answered on the second ring, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Dante,” Luca said, his tone brisk. “What’s the update?”

“The contract’s being drafted,” I replied, taking a sip of my drink. “Emilia’s lawyer will have it by tomorrow.”

“And the money?”

I exhaled sharply, the familiar frustration bubbling to the surface. “Still missing. But I’m working on it.”

Luca was silent for a moment, and I could imagine him pacing in his office, his mind racing with possibilities. “You mentioned someone trained her. Have you looked into it?”

“I’m already ahead of you,” I said, my voice colder now. “I’ve been going through the logs, tracing her shifts, her codes. She wasn’t stealing—she was inputting the wrong codes. Someone set her up.”

“And you think it’s the trainer?”

“It’s a possibility,” I admitted. “But I’m not ruling out anyone. This is bigger than Emilia, bigger than her family. Someone’s trying to undermine us, and I intend to find out who.”

At first, I didn’t know what to believe. Seeing her name on the paperwork had been a shock, but it didn’t make sense. Emilia was loyal to her family—too loyal to risk everything for a payout. But loyalty didn’t mean innocence. If she was involved, someone else had set the stage, and she’d walked right into it.

Luca let out a low whistle, his tone laced with admiration. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Not yet,” I said, my voice hard. “But I will.”

We talked business for a few more minutes, discussing the fallout from the missing money and the steps we were taking to mitigate the damage. When the call ended, I set the phone down and leaned back in the chair, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

I blamed the Riccis for this mess. They’d been sloppy, careless, and now I was the one cleaning up their mistakes. If they’d trained their daughter properly, if they’d taken their responsibilities seriously, none of this would have happened.

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