Page 63 of Sinful Bargains

“Enough,” Principal Clayton interrupted. “We’re here to resolve this, not make it worse. This fight isn’t just about a girl or even about their differences—it’s about how we, as parents, choose to address what happens next. Your sons need to learn how to manage conflicts without resorting to physical confrontation.”

Renee folded her arms, letting out a long sigh. “I’m not trying to make this personal. It’s just that I know my son, and Iknowhow much Mia means to him.”

“I understand how he feels,” I said. “But Antonio has just as much right to his emotions as anyone else. And Mia’s free to make her own choices about who she wants to spend time with. And just as people aren’t property, people can also choose to love who they want.”

Renee’s lips pressed into a thin line, and neither of us spoke. It was clear that this wasn’t about Antonio and Giovanni anymore. This was about Joey—her staking her claim on him, while he had already staked his claim on me.

Principal Clayton’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “The best way to resolve this might be for them to simply apologize. Of course, Antonio is suspended, but an apology could be a good starting point.”

Antonio leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at thecorner of his lips. “Sorry, but I’m not apologizing to him, Principal Clayton. Though I’d love to hear his apology.”

“Antonio,” I said, smacking his arm, “stop it.Apologize. Right now.”

But he didn’t budge. His gaze locked with mine, defiance burning bright in his dark eyes. “No,” he said. “I’m not apologizing to him. He can cry it out.”

The words sent a chill through me. This wasn’t my Antonio.

“That’s fine, Principal Clayton,” Renee cut in, standing and clutching both her purse and Giovanni’s arm. Her voice was smooth and condescending, every word calculated. “I understand boys raised without a father develop thesetendencies. But don’t worry. Giovanni’s grandfather andstepfatherwill have a talk with him. You won’t have to worry about my son behaving this way again.”

She punctuated her remark with a bright, almost sickening smile directed at me before sweeping past, the sound of her heels sharp against the tile floor. My jaw tightened, and heat rose in my chest. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. I glanced at Antonio, his shoulders squared and his jaw tight. There was no trace of guilt or remorse in his expression—just raw, unfiltered rage.

As we left the office, the silence between us felt suffocating. Antonio shoved his hands into his pockets as he strode down the hallways. I watched him walk ahead of me. It wasn’t just the fight that worried me now—it was the anger simmering beneath the surface. We finally reached the car, getting in. “Do you haveanyidea what kind of trouble you’ve caused? Getting into a fight—over some girl? And then refusing to apologize?” I asked him. My head turned to him as he slouched in the passenger seat without a care in the world.

He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair. “Ma, it wasn’t like that. I—I didn’t want to fight him. He pushed me. And then?—”

I cut him off. “I don’t care what happened! You don’t resolve things with violence. That’s not who you are, Antonio. You know this. This isn’t the way to handle things. You don’t fight over a girl.”

“You don’t get it! You don’t know how he acts—what he says! What I’m going through!” he shouted.

If Giovanni was anything like Renee, he was arrogant, insufferable, and smug enough to push Antonio over the edge. But none of that justified what had happened. You can’t justify violence.

“Antonio,” I started, my gaze fixed ahead. I had never wanted to talk about that night, but no matter how hard I tried, it kept coming back. “Is this about what happened that night?”

“What?” he choked out. “No! You can’t seriously think I learned to punch people just because you learned how to kill a man in self-defense.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “You’re grounded,” I said, feeling the tears threatening to spill over. I put the car in reverse and backed out.

“What?” he shouted. “Grounded for what?”

I slammed the brakes. “For starters, punching someone. Violence isn’t justified, and I won’t have you growing up thinking it is!”

This had to stop now. What I had done was wrong. What Antonio had witnessed—or thought he had witnessed—was a terrible thing, but Joey was going to handle it. I couldn’t let Antonio think that he could grow up and take his anger out on others, just because he believed I had killed his father.

His brows knitted together. “I know you told Joey.”

“I’m an adult, Antonio,” I said, my voice tight as I drove down the street. “I don’t need your permission to do things.” I parked under the carport, and the two of us got out, meeting at the hood. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but maybe sometime grounded and suspended from school, working at Davidson’s, will do you some good.”

His mouth gaped open for a moment. “This place has changed you!”

“Yeah?” I said, walking past him. “Well, it seems it’s changed you, too.” And then I couldn’t hold in the hot tears any longer. They spilled down my face. Hot and unforgiving.

JOEY

“Joey, hi,” she greeted, her words rushed. Clipped. “Now’s not really a great time.”

She moved to block the door, but I stepped past her into the house, not letting it deter me. “I heard what happened,” I said. “I came as fast as I could.”

Her sigh was heavy, her shoulders sinking for a moment before she brushed her hands over her dress, smoothing out imaginary creases. “I don’t know what got into him,” she admitted, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it herself. “He’s going to learn his lesson, especially with all that free time now that he’s suspended and grounded.”

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