Page 59 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

These assholes crossed a line, and I won’t have it.

I scrub a hand down my face, half-listening to Roman rave about some of the food on offer tonight.

“It was the best fucking beef and Guinness stew and Irish soda bread I’ve ever had,” he says in Italian.

“When was the last time you had either?” I ask in English, pushing my hair back and leaning against the headrest.

“Never, but if I had, this stuff would have beaten its ass, trust me. Fucking amazing. Hey, Heaven, can I hire your cook?”

Heaven turns slightly toward Roman, eyes narrowing. “You don’t need to hire her. She’s evidently marrying into your family, so there’ll be plenty for you to enjoy in the future.” She gives me a sharp look. “As I imagine cooking will be one of my wifely duties. Of course, I just might decide to poison Matteo.”

She turns back to the window.

Roman laughs and I somehow control my smile. I like her fire. And liking her makes it much easier for me to do what I have to. Nothing more, nothing less.

We arrive in SoHo at my loft. I have a few, but this is my primary one. My home is on the second floor, where I rarely have company. Downstairs is more for pleasure and business.

“Here?” Roman asks with a sudden frown.

“Hang tight,” I say. “I need you to stick around for a while.”

Gio helps Heaven out of the Escalade. She flashes a smile at him before walking around to join me. With a cold look up at me, she lifts an eyebrow, and climbs the metal steps of the stoop. She spins around once she’s reached the top. “Are you coming or what?”

I take the steps two at a time and key in the security code to shut off the alarm before twisting my key in all three locks.

“Great, I’m living in Fort Knox,” she mutters.

“You prefer an unlocked door?”

She doesn’t answer and pushes inside ahead of me, taking in the ground floor with a wrinkled nose.

“Not fancy enough for you, Heaven?” I ask, my tone mocking. There are a few lights on because I always like to look for any out-of-place shadows once I get inside. If people want to get to you, trust me, they will find a way.

I’m a pretty persistent person, so I know that from experience.

“So, you live here?”

“For now,” I say. “I have a few different places.”

“Where?” She narrows her eyes.

“Around.” I shrug. “Sicily, Miami, Rome, Vegas?—”

“How often do you travel?”

“Trying to get rid of me already?” I ask. “I’m here for the foreseeable future.”

“Lucky me,” she mutters, walking farther into the place. She examines every last bit of the first floor before she speaks again. “It’s…big. But it doesn’t exactly scream ‘married.’ It’s more of a place where you’d bring your bitches. Speaking of, that is ahardfucking no, Matteo. I don’t want this arrangement at all, but there is no way you’re going to have sidepieces prancing through here. Girls from your sex parties? Hell no. I’ve been humiliated enough.”

I bite back a smile. I like how fired up she gets. It must be that Irish temper I was warned about. “I’d never do anything here, Heaven.”

She storms right up to me and pokes me in the chest with her finger. “I’m not just talking about here,” she hisses.

“I didn’t realize you gave a shit,” I say. “You’ve made it clear that I disgust you, using a lot of different and colorful words.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says. “It’s not likeIwant it. I just don’t want anyone else to have it once the ball and chain has been attached to my ankle. This isn’t the Old World,paisano. What’s expected of me is expected of you.”

“And what is that? Fucking you is on my agenda.” I slide my hand down her back, drawing her stiffening body to me.

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