Page 5 of Tempted By the Devil

I nod vigorously. “Beautiful is an understatement.”

“Which reminds me, Mr. Calderone requests his guests attend dinner at his restaurant. Complimentary, of course.”

“Oh, no… that’s okay. We’ve sort of already made an itinerary?—”

“I suggest you attend,” she says. “It is a good way to express gratitude for staying in his property and the food is quite delicious. Some of the best in Sicily. It is considered a very exclusive restaurant few are lucky enough to dine in.”

“Free food?” Jayla says, stepping out onto the balcony with us. “We’ll be there! It’ll give us an excuse to wear the fancy cocktail dresses we packed.”

I raise a brow at Jayla. “We were going to wear them for dinner in Palermo.”

“We can do that tomorrow night. You forget we packed a whole closet’s worth of stuff?”

Francesca’s smile brightens. “Excellent. I will let Mr. Calderone know you will be there. A car will come pick you up at seven.”

Before I can wrap my head around everything, Francesca is leaving her number in case we need her and bidding us farewell. The door snaps shut and Jayla and I find ourselves alone in the loft that’s ours for the next week.

Jayla squeals and claps her hands, glancing out at the waterfront view. “Isn’t this wild? Look at us, sissy!”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, unable to figure out what’s started bothering me. It’s a vague feeling pitted in my stomach. “Yeah, it’s all so amazing. Almost too good to be true.”

2

PORTIA

As Francesca promised,the car arrives at seven sharp.

Jayla’s still in the bathroom doing her hair. I’m half smiling, half rolling my eyes when I come over to yank the edge control brush out of her hands.

“Sissy, what the fuck?”

“Time to go. Your baby hairs are as laid as can be.”

“I was thinking about changing my outfit?—”

“You change again and there’s not going to be a car outside when you’re done. I’ll be on my way to dinner without you.”

My threat’s like a joke to her. She laughs and tosses an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me against her side like the sisters we are.

“Okay, okay. Chill. Wasn’t I the one that wanted to go? Not you?”

“Yes,” I admit, “then you made me spend an hour and a half getting dressed up. I’ll be damned if I put this much makeup on to go down the block to a local café.”

“You look beautiful, cuz.”

“We both do.”

I wink at her as we lock up the loft and ride the old-fashioned caged elevator down to the ground floor. We stride onto the street outside like two fabulous, well-off women out for a night of partying.

We might as well be considering how good we look—Jayla’s in a golden jumpsuit and hoop earrings she’s paired with sandal heels and a clutch purse while I opted for a flowy maxi dress. The green florals pop against my mocha-brown complexion and pay tribute to the vibrant colors surrounding us in Sicily. I’ve left my hair in loose waves and dabbed on my favorite perfume.

Hints of jasmine and rose and an undercurrent of sandalwood.

Most men find it irresistible.

Not that I’m trying to be irresistible to any man tonight.

I’ve sworn off men. Lincoln Powell ensured that much when he crushed any sense of hope and broke my heart.

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