Savage Sinner: An Enemies To Lovers Russian - Italian Dark Mafia Romance (Sinfully Savage Mafia)

I need to hate these people!

I need to hate him!

Heaven pushes open a door and waves her hand around. “I hope you like it,” she says in a soft voice.

My breath catches as I take in the space. It’s three times the size of my bedroom back in Brooklyn, decorated in soft creams and blues with gold accents.

Blue is my favorite color.

She could never have known that.

I walk in, running my hand over the plush comforter and throw pillows. Sheer white panels with gold threads weaves into the fabric hanging next to the window overlooking the Strip. The furniture is cream with crystal knobs that glimmer in the overhead light.

It’s gorgeous.

And another tiny shred of resolve falters as I turn to say thank you, but I choke on the words before I can get them out, an unexpected gaggle of tears gathering in the back of my throat.

My mother and I decorated my bedroom back in the Ukraine in this exact way. She wanted me to wake up in a place that was as bright and shiny as I was.

Heaven beams at me, her eyes sparkling as bright as the crystals in the ceiling chandelier. “Do you like it?” she asks, biting on her lower lip. “We can change whatever you want. I just want to make sure you’re completely comfortable here.”

I swallow down the sadness and ignore the sharp pain assaulting my heart at the memory of me and my mother smiling and laughing as we worked, flicking paint at one another as we transformed my space into…well, this.

God, I haven’t thought about my real home in so long before today.

And now that the wound has been torn open, I want to crumble onto the bed and just let out everything that I’ve kept bottled up for so long.

Heaven takes a tentative step toward me. “Anya, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

I give my head a quick shake and force it all down…the torment, the despair, and the rage.

As usual.

I only allow it to unleash when I’m sitting on top of a victim, ready to impale him with a sharp steel blade.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say in a shaky breath. “It’s perfect. It reminds me of…of my old bedroom. A long time ago…” My voice trails off. “I love it.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, great! I’m so happy to hear that! I picked everything out myself. I tried to think of the exact space I’d love and this is what I came up with!” She winks at me. “I guess we have the same taste, huh?”

“Seems so.” I smile tightly. “Um, I think the only last loose end I have to tie up is bringing over my things from the Bellagio. That’s where I’m staying.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That place? So twenty years ago,” she mutters.

I chuckle “So I’ve heard. But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, right?”

“Nope!” She grabs my arm and leads me back to the living room. “Dante! I need you to take Anya back to the crappy Bellagio so she can get her things.” She hands Aisling to me and practically dances over to Matteo, putting her hands on his shoulders. “And I think you and I have some planning to do. You know, for later.”

Dante makes a gagging sound and stands up from the couch where he was sitting. “I just threw up in my mouth a little bit there, guys. Can you save your planning for after we leave?” He walks over to me, a lazy grin on his face. “In fact, I don’t want to poison Aisling’s ears with talk of your sordid sex life, so we’ll just take her along for the ride. Give her a chance to get to know her new friend.”

The way he says ‘friend’ makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

Matteo pulls Heaven onto his lap and tosses Dante a set of keys since we clearly can’t take the Ferrari. I pick up the diaper bag and sling it over my shoulder and the three of us head out of the apartment and down to the lobby. I watch as Dante balances Aisling in his left arm, keeping her snuggled against his chest. He’s smiling, she’s smiling, and I swear I feel the thing I swore I’d never feel…

The ovary thing.

I can’t explain away the pang I feel in that area as I walk alongside them and stare, just like all of the other pathetic women I pass.

The two of them just look so precious together. Endorphins are practically oozing from Dante’s body, and every single woman in his path seems to get swept away in them. They look at him, practically drooling, licking their lips because not only does he have the face and body of a fucking god, he’s carrying a beautiful baby girl.

That’s crack to most of the female population.

And evidently, to me as well.

We get outside and one of the valets comes over for the keys. Seconds later, a blacked-out Cadillac Escalade pulls up in front of us and Dante pulls open the back door, fastening Aisling into the car seat facing backward. Then he pulls open my door and winks. “Your chariot.”

He so doesn’t seem like the assassin type.

But then again, maybe that’s how he flies under the radar. He’s smooth, charming, and cocky with a bad boy glint in his eye — not the brooding, menacing, killer kind of guy.

I step onto the running board to climb inside, but my foot slips forward and I grab onto the door to keep myself from tumbling out of the car.