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

The other part of me wants to throw him down on the couch and ride him like a thoroughbred in pursuit of the Triple Crown.

In this moment, it really is a toss-up between the two.

“I’m supposed to be the caretaker,” I say, my voice quivering a little as the words tumble from my lips. “I’ve always played that role and I guess I just don’t know how to handle it when someone takes over for me.” It’s not entirely bullshit, either. As I got older and Maks became more and more unhinged, it was up to me to keep things on an even keel back in Brooklyn. I did what I could to make sure he was clean, fed, and clothed since he lost all desire for anything other than vengeance. I was always more calculated and methodical in my actions, which made me more of an asset to the organization. Conversely, Maks acted purely on emotion, always ready to unleash the fury stored deep within him. Hell, it’s part of the reason I went with him the night he was killed. I figured with me in the car, he wouldn’t pull any of his crazy ass stunts.

I had no idea that the tables would flip as they did.

Uncle Boris’s words float back into my mind.

Maks was weak. He let his feelings rule his actions! Do you want to end up like him, Anya?

I swallow down the anger, trying desperately to keep myself calm. A few deep breaths settles my racing heart.

Dante folds his arms over his chest and stares at me. “You know that’s the most you’ve told me about yourself since I almost ran you over this morning.”

I manage a smile. “Oh yeah? So I bet you’re going to add more to your list about me now. I don’t have friends, don’t like to talk, have no patience for old people…and what else?”

“Damaged,” he says, his eyes boring into me. “There’s a reason why you do this, why you wanted this job, and something tells me it’s not because you love babies.” He steps toward me and my breath hitches. “You’re so closed off. Is it because you failed in this role before? Is that why you’re trying to make up for it with strangers?”

My jaw drops. He got all of that from what I said?

He’s too goddamn pretty to be that perceptive!

I swallow hard. “I’m not damaged,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

“We’re all damaged, Anya. In some way or another. We’re all looking for redemption.”

“I don’t need redemption! Spare me the dollar-store psychobabble,” I snap. My jaw tightens, palms sweaty as they rub against my legs.

Dante circles me like a lion eyeing his prey. “So mysterious. So shut down. But so in need of carnal pleasure,” he muses. “Even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. You’re looking for something you either haven’t found or had taken away. Admit it.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s your insightful analysis, huh? Because I got caught up in the moment—”

“A moment you created, if memory serves.” He smirks. “Remember, rubbing up against me, touching my arm, giving me that fuck-me-now look?”

I throw my hands into the air. “Fine! I created it. Twice. I admit it!”

“So now are you going to admit the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“That you’re damaged.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Language,” he says with a quirk of his brow.

I let out a snort. “You know what? I’ve lost my appetite. So thanks for that!” I turn on my heel, ready to stalk toward my room when I stop short.

Aisling.

I turn back around, scoop her up, and head back down the hallway. My stomach gurgles and clenches as my pulse throbs against my neck.

Fuck him for seeing all of that!

And how, by the way? I basically told him nothing and he managed to pull all of that from the minimal words I uttered.

I sink into the plush leather recliner in the corner of the room that overlooks the bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip. I stare into the night sky, at all of the stars twinkling against the blackness. I never saw that many stars in Brooklyn. The dark, ominous cloud of a hopeless future always hung low overhead, blocking any slivers of light from shining through.

But here, it feels like the cloud has lifted, albeit temporarily.

I had no idea what wounds would be torn open by being out here in Vegas. All of the things I resisted for so long, thrown in my face, taunting me because I’ll never have them myself.

I made choices. A lot of choices.

And they defined my path.

It’s not glamorous by any stretch, but it’s been set.

I have to deliver for my uncle, for our livelihood, for our future…the future Maks will never get to experience.

Deliver what, though?

That’s the hundred-million-dollar question.

My stomach rumbles again and Aisling’s even breathing tells me that she’s dozed off.

I wonder what was in those bags…

Tommy Marcone? Really?

There was so much scrumptiousness just beyond my fingertips and I screwed it up.

What’s worse than shutting down is cutting someone off when they peg you exactly right.

And damn, did he peg me.