Page 3 of Sinful Bargains

"Joey?" her voice called out.

"In here."

She appeared a moment later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Renee was attractive in the understated, effortless way I had always noticed, but never dwelled on. Her light caramel hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes, so much like her father's, narrowed as she gave me a once-over. I had known Renee for most of my life, but it wasn't until after my release from Ricker's Island that our relationship evolved into something more. Renee was Vincent’s daughter, and unfortunately, she was like him in many ways.

I had gone down for a ten-year sentence for extortion. Was I guilty of extortion? Yes. But had I been the one to commit the crime, that would put me behind bars for a decade? No. And yet, I kept my mouth shut. I bid my time. I successfully guided Paul in running my car wholesale business, raking in millions for the family. Only to be set free and have Vincent push me down the chain of command. But I had done my time, and I’ll be damned if I stood shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of amateurs doing grunt work. So that night at the speakeasy, The Wise Guy, when I saw Renee, I thought, what better way to get back at the man stripping me of my life’s work than to defile his own daughter? Only his fucking daughter was just as bad as him, digging her long claws into my back in ways I only meant for her to do after one too many whiskey neats. Now I was playing house with her. But it was working in my favor. Vincent couldn’t bear his daughter being involved with a nobody, so he made me somebody. Somebody, I was always destined to be. A title I was always destined to carry.Capo.

"Long day?" she asked, stepping closer and brushing invisible lint off my suit.

"Not bad," I lied. "You didn't have to wait up."

In fact, I wish you hadn’t waited up.

She shrugged, leaning back against the counter. "Couldn't sleep."

I studied her, noting how her jaw tensed and her gaze flickered briefly toward the living room. "Something happened while I was gone?"

Renee hesitated before shaking her head. "No. Just...Dad called this morning."

Of course, he did. I’d managed to escape him before he could stop me after that sit-down.

"What'd he want?"

"Same as always," Renee responded, but I noticed how she bit her lip, avoiding my intrusive gaze. "Making sure you're watching out for his precious daughter." Her words were edged with sarcasm, but the look in her eyes told me she wanted something more from me. Renee wanted me to take our relationship seriously.

I reached out, wrapping my hand around hers and gently squeezing it. "You tell him I'm good for it?"

Her lips curved faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I told him. I don't think he will ever trust anyone with me—not even you."

I gave a low chuckle, releasing her hand and leaning back again. "Wouldn't either, if I were him."

Renee rolled her eyes. “Very funny, Joey. But I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble at dinner tonight.”

“Not too bad,” I lied.

She studied me, her brows knitting together. “Something happened. You’re tense.”

I exhaled heavily and sank onto the couch. “It’s hard getting everyone on the same page,” I admitted. “But Christopher liked my idea. I just hope your father doesn’t think I’m stepping onhis toes. I’m just trying to show there are smarter ways to take control.”

She nodded. “Well, he’s always at home. He doesn’t need to know everything you do.”

“He’d find out,” I cut in.

“But you’ve got good ideas,” she insisted.

When Renee disappeared down the hallway, my mind wandered back to the mysterious woman from the ferry. I wondered who she was and where she'd gone after the ferry docked. Little did I know my life was about to shift again, and the stranger from the ferry would soon be more than a thought.

ADRIANA

Ifelt the world's weight on my shoulders as I sat at the local diner, the place that became my new routine. It was the same one I'd visited yesterday, and the only real source of food I could provide for Antonio and me. The regulars spoke in low, hushed tones to one another. Their lives were no more complicated than a daily coffee, but to me, this place felt like the only semblance of normalcy I could latch onto. It was the only way I could keep Antonio fed, but I grew more anxious as I knew my secret stash of cash would run out soon.

Antonio sat quietly across from me in the booth, scribbling something in his notebook as music played from the jukebox. My heart ached for him; this move, this new life, was as foreign to him as it was to me. He had been through so much and had witnessed too much for a child his age. I feared the guilt of what he'd had to witness would be something I could never get over. He had begged me to leave for years, but I always felt trapped. That night, everything changed when the usual violence went from being directed toward me to Antonio. I knew I had to strike. And I did. Now, there was no way ever to go back. I could hardly live with the guilt that I had waited for it toescalate to that moment before I left. Antonio, despite having gone through just as much as I had been through, promised me he didn't hold any harboring feelings towards me. He knew I was in a hard place—leaving an abusive husband with a child was greatly frowned upon by society. This fact held me back from leaving—until the moment I had to step in to protect my son from the very abuse that had been inflicted on me for years.

I wasn't surprised to see the same few faces I'd seen the day prior sitting in the diner. I had realized, since being in Staten Island for a mere two days, that it was a small island where most of the residents seemed to be either related or knew someone who knew someone. I had always lived in small towns, but something was different about this place. And I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

One face, however, stood out among the rest that morning.

The man I had seen that night at the ferry terminal on my way into Staten Island. In the daylight, I could see him clearly. He looked sharp, lean, yet his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his single-breasted coat. His face had an inherent allure to it—compelling blue eyes, a sharp jawline thrust forward, and the faint shadow of a beard that gave him an even more manly aura. He had an air of authority and the appearance of one who demanded instant obedience. He didn't seem like anyone you would walk up to and approach. Yet, I wanted to get closer. He held himself in such high regard that he demanded everyone's attention without speaking. He was an important man, whatever it was he did. My intuition was quick to tell me this man was different. Mysterious, enigmatic. Still, there was something magnetic about him. Even from a distance, I could sense his presence, an invisible force tugging at the corners of my awareness.

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