Page 88 of Made for Sinners

The kind of perfection that felt like a warning:Don’t touch. Don’t belong.

Ahead, his brothers were already waiting near the entrance, their figures framed by the massive stone pillars that flanked the double doors.

Rafe stood like a statue, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. His sharp eyes tracked our approach, taking in every detail, every movement, like a predator assessing its prey. Luca, in contrast, leaned lazily against one of the pillars, his grin unapologetically smug, like he’d been waiting all day just to say something to piss me off.

“Emilia,” Rafe greeted when we reached them, his voice even, calm, and entirely devoid of warmth.

“Hey,” I responded, forcing a polite smile as I glanced between them. “Nice to see you all again.”

Luca’s grin widened, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my skin prickle. “You’re looking dangerous today, princess.”

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched in spite of myself. “And you’re still breathing. Miracles do happen.”

Luca let out a low laugh, the sound full of amusement as he pushed off the pillar. “You’re growing on me, you know that?”

“Luca,” Dante warned, his voice low, the kind of tone that could silence a room.

Luca just shrugged, his grin unfaltering.

Dante’s hand pressed more firmly against the small of my back, his touch grounding me in a way I didn’t want to think too hard about. “Make yourself at home,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, low and commanding. “I need to speak with them.”

I nodded, already feeling the subtle shift in the air. The tension. The unspoken rules that separated me from them.

Business. Mafia business.

The kind of conversation I wasn’t invited to. Not yet, anyway.

Rafe turned, gesturing for Dante to follow, and the brothers began to move toward the door. Dante’s hand lingered on my back for half a second longer before he dropped it, his dark eyes meeting mine like he was silently telling me to behave.

I didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions. I just turned and walked away, my heels clicking softly against the stone path as I made my way into the estate.

The house was a maze of hallways and rooms that all looked vaguely the same—ornate, expensive, and just a little too sterile. It was the kind of place that felt more like a museum than a home, where every piece of furniture was perfectly placed, every surface polished to a mirror-like shine.

I wandered aimlessly, passing a sitting room filled with antique furniture no one ever used, a library that smelled like dust and old secrets, and a formal dining room that could seat twenty but probably hadn’t seen a real meal in years.

The deeper I went, the quieter it became. The faint hum of conversation and footsteps from the main part of the estate faded into nothing, leaving only the soft echo of my heels against the polished floors.

Eventually, I found myself in one of the back hallways, the kind that wasn’t meant for guests. The kind that felt forgotten.

The air here was different—cooler, heavier, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. The lighting was dimmer, the ornate sconces casting long shadows that stretched across the floor.

The walls were lined with old photographs—black-and-white portraits, faded group shots, moments frozen in time. They were a stark contrast to the rest of the house, where everything feltcurated and deliberate. These photos felt personal, like they’d been hung here for the family’s eyes only.

I slowed, my fingers brushing lightly over the edge of one of the frames.

It was a group photo—maybe twenty people, all dressed in suits and gowns, standing in front of the estate. The image was grainy, the edges of the photo slightly yellowed with age, but the faces were clear enough.

Some of them I recognized.

Rafe, younger and less guarded, his expression almost boyish. Dante, barely out of his teens, already wearing that same unreadable mask he wore now.

But it was the man standing near the edge of the photo that made my breath catch.

I’d seen him before.

Not in person. Not recently.

In the album.

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