Page 41 of Sinful Bargains

Joey let out a quiet sigh, setting his fork down. “Listen, kid. Those papers? They’re all about telling stories that sell. A scary nickname like ‘The Shark’? That’s how they grab people’s attention. I mean, look. It even caught your attention, and youknowme. They’ve even tried to corruptyourmind into believing I’m a bad guy. Makes it more exciting than the truth, doesn’t it? Mr. Russo makes good money selling copies with my face plastered on the front page.”

“So you’re saying it’s not true?” Antonio pressed.

Joey gave him a soft, reassuring smile—the kind of smile that made me question every moral I thought I stood for. The only crime that smile was guilty of was holding my heart captive. “No, Antonio. I’m just a guy who runs a business and happens to play ball with you on weekends. That’s all.”

Antonio tilted his head, not willing to drop it, and I couldn’t understand why. “But why would they write about you if it wasn’t true? I just don’t understand that. You make the papers at least once a week.”

“Antonio, that’s enough!” I cut in, my pleas slicing through the air like a slap.

Joey placed a hand on Antonio’s shoulder. “People will say all kinds of things about you. Doesn’t mean it’s true. Look at me, kid.” Joey’s eyes poured into Antonio. “You know who I am. I’m Joey. You know me.”

My conscience allowed me to see past the sparkle of his blue eyes. Joey and The Shark were the same person. And I could see it written all over his face.

Antonio nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And while we’re at it, how about you focus on baseball, school, and delivering newspapers instead of what’s printed inside them.” Joey chuckled, ruffling up Antonio’s hair again.

“Sorry, Joey,” Antonio mumbled.

Joey flashed that easy grin of his, the one that had charmed its way into both our lives. The very same smile that “The Shark” plastered for the newspapers. The same man, and yet I felt myself accepting every part of him—the good and the bad.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. You’re family now. You can always ask me anything—and I’ll always tell you the truth.”

It was how Joey saidwe’re family now,like it wasn’t even up for debate. His eyes flicked my way, holding mine for a second too long, as though he meant it just as much for me as for Antonio. And when a soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, my heart betrayed me—it melted. I didn’t want to get caught up in his charm, but it was so effortless, so natural. So demanding. Joey pulled me in no matter how hard I tried to resist.

I knew better than this. I had spent years with a man who used words and gestures to lure me in, only to use them against me later. But Joey didn’t feel like a trap. He didn’t feel like danger—not to me, anyway. I knew there were two sides to him. But I felt safer when he was near.

I glanced at Antonio, who had returned to eating his carbonara as if he had gotten the answers he was searching for. Joey had that effect—he could command respect with a single look or a few perfectly chosen words. If he was like this in my presence, I could only imagine who he was when he wasn’t with us.

A part of me had been dormant for years, buried in fear and survival. That part came alive whenever Joey smiled at me or brushed his hand against mine. His eyes softened when they landed on me, like I was worth looking at. With him, I felt seen, even when I didn’t want to be seen.

I realized then that I’d been staring at him too long, lost in my thoughts. Joey caught my gaze and held it, his smile soft but knowing, like he could see right through me. Like he could read my thoughts.

“Adriana,” Joey said, his voice pulling me back to reality.

“Yes?” I replied too quickly, my voice higher than I intended.

“We’re good, right?”

I swallowed, forcing a smile. “Yeah, Joey. We’re good.”

JOEY

Antonio went to his room to prepare for bed, leaving Adriana and me alone in the kitchen. I leaned against the countertop, arms crossed over my chest, watching as she busied herself at the sink. Her movements were quick and purposeful, almost too much—like she was trying to outrun something in her head. She had a long day. No doubt about it. I was sure she must be thinking of all sorts of things. I wanted to ease her pain. I wanted to take it all away.

I wasn’t blind to the walls Adriana had built. They were solid and kept her upright in a way a lot of people couldn’t manage after going through the hell she’d been through. But every once in a while—like now—I’d catch a crack in the foundation. A hesitation in her hands as she scrubbed the plate. A glance that darted in my direction. That pleading look in her eyes, begging me to tear down the walls. And it made me wonder if I could be the person she didn’t have to keep the walls up around.

I’d be a lying fool if I said I couldn’t get used to this. In the small kitchen, she hummed Elvis Presley under her breath as she worked, the warm smell of garlic still hanging in the air. Fora guy like me, this felt like everything I’d ever needed in this lifetime.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I didn’t do “good.” My life wasn’t built on clean edges or happy endings. It was deals inThe Wise Guyand breaking bones in dark alleyways. It was lying and scheming. Even if the papers didn’t always get the story right, the gist of it wasn’t wrong.The Shark.They weren’t exactly off the mark. The things I’d done weren’t the kind of things a guy can just leave behind, no matter how much he wants to.

What the hell was I doing here? Pretending I could have something like this—a quiet dinner, a woman like Adriana looking at me like I was something other than the guy they printed stories about in the newspaper.A family.

Adriana wasn’t the kind of woman you kept things casual with. She had this presence, this way of standing her ground even when it looked like the world was trying to knock her down. She didn’t seem like the type to fall for sweet words. But I wasn’t the only one feeling these feelings. Thinking up these thoughts. I caught how she melted into my touch. How her eyes lingered on mine.

I knew she was fighting something inside herself, the same way I was. And maybe that was what pulled me toward her—the shared feeling that we were both too used to running. Surviving in a cold, harsh world. But now—now, we were standing still in this cramped little kitchen, and I didn’t want to run anymore. I didn’t want to leave these walls. I didn’t want to face the world outside of this kitchen.

“Adriana.”

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