Page 2 of Made for Sinners

Fucking perfect.

I exhale sharply, the sound harsh in the stillness, and set the bottle down harder than I mean to. My hands curl against the edge of the counter, gripping it so tightly my knuckles ache.

The city sprawls beneath me, glittering and untouchable, but my mind is stuck in the past, replaying every moment with Emilia like a goddamn highlight reel of my own stupidity.

The way she smiled at me, sharp and knowing, like she already had me figured out. The way she laughed, low and soft, like she was letting me in on some private joke. The way she kissed me, touched me, whispered my name like it fucking meant something.

I should’ve known better.

I did know better.

But I let her in anyway.

I drag a hand through my hair again, the tension in my jaw radiating down my neck, my pulse thundering in my ears. I feellike I’m trapped, the walls of the penthouse pressing in, the scent of whiskey and regret thick enough to choke on.

I need air.

I move to the window, leaning forward until my forehead nearly touches the glass. The city glitters below me, sprawling and endless, but all I can see is her.

Her smile. Her lies.

Her betrayal.

I push away from the window, pacing the room like a caged animal. My shoes grind against the broken glass, the sound sharp, grating, but I don’t care. I can feel the anger rising, the heat of it curling in my chest, but it doesn’t burn the way I need it to.

Rage isn’t enough.

Not this time.

Because beneath the anger, there’s something else. Something darker. Deeper.

Hollow.

Ihateher.

I hate her for what she’s done. For what she’s taken. For what she’s made me feel.

But I hate myself more.

For letting her in.

For not seeing it coming.

For wanting her even now.

I stop, staring out at the city again, my reflection faint and distorted in the glass. Fine. She played me. I’ll deal with it. I’ll deal with her.

Because if Emilia thinks she can steal from me and disappear, she’s dead fucking wrong.

She’s mine.

And I’m going to remind her exactly what that means.

2

EMILIA

The sound of Adrianna’s laughter floated through the air, light and carefree, a stark contrast to the knot of anguish twisting in my chest. She was radiant, her dress shimmering under the golden glow of the string lights strewn across the garden, her smile so genuine it made my heart ache. In the middle of this orchestrated chaos—this marriage of alliances and obligations—Adrianna had found happiness.

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