Page 363 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Fuckers like Conor always go down in flames because they can’t see past their own noses.

And if we’re talking about noses, Conor is the type to do more snorting than looking, anyway.

“Okay,” he finally says. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Good. Now take the rest of the night off, have few drinks, and fuck your wife. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Fuck my wife. That’s a good one. Sure, I’ll see if I can slip something in while the baby sleeps for like an hour. Christ, we need this au pair so badly.”

“Oh pair of what?” I furrow my brow.

“Not ‘oh pair’, dipshit. An au pair, you know, like a nanny.” He groans. “Maybe then I can have sex again.”

“So you’re not getting any.” I smirk. “Makes sense why you’re wound tighter than usual.”

“Screw you, Dante.”

“Yeah, see, I’m not the one having an issue with that.”

“I’m flipping you off right now,” Matteo says with a loud yawn.

“Okay, so you go to bed and not fuck your wife. I’ll wrap things up here.” Speaking of wrapping things up, where in the fuck is my killer kiss?

“See you tomorrow. Safe flight. I had one of my guys drop off your car in short-term parking at the airport.”

“Good,” I reply. Matteo doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve got a side job to handle once I get back to Vegas, the first one I’ve taken in months. And an Uber won’t give me the fast getaway that I’ll need.

Soon enough, I’ll get instructions for the hit and I’ll finally be able to scratch the damn itch that’s been plaguing me for months.

I click to end the call, letting my hand drop to my side. I look over my shoulder. Nobody is coming. I could just peek my head inside the bathroom?—

I shake the door handle.

Locked.

Dammit!

I stuff my phone into my pocket and rap on the door with my fist. I don’t really want to attract any attention to myself, but an uneasy feeling eats at my gut as I stand there with my ear pressed to the door.

I don’t hear a thing.

Of course, the blaring music could be the reason for that.

I jiggle the handle again. It’s not strong. Flimsy, at best.

I take another look over my shoulder and kick open the door, figuring I’ll deal with the hellfire that eruptsafterI get some answers.

The one-person bathroom is tiny, barely enough room for a toilet and a sink.

My gaze drops on the red fabric hanging out of the trash can positioned next to the single window to the outside.

She didn’t even bother to close it.

“Motherfucker!” I yell, kicking the trash can so hard, it falls over. The lid tumbles off and my mystery woman empties out of it.

Dark brown wig, tight red dress, small handbag.

She completely stripped herself bare to the point where she may as well be a ghost.

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