Dirty Little Sins: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance (Dirty Sins Duet)

by E. M. Gayle

  "Then we definitely shouldn't be doing this. It sounds like you don't need any distractions any more than I do."

  "I disagree. It's been a long week and we both deserve a break and some time together." I pulled her hand into mind and gave her a squeeze. "I've been hoping to see you and I don't like talking about 'our situation' in an environment I don't completely control."

  Her body jerked against mine and I smiled into her hair as I pulled her closer and pressed my lips to the side of her face.

  "I also need you to feel free when I fuck you tonight. Free to scream when you need to and free to fight me if that's what it takes to release all that pent-up tension."

  Chapter Twelve

  ZIA

  I stared at Vincent, my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open. The zing of shock trembling through my body had rendered me speechless. I wasn't even sure how to unpack that last statement of his. Or if I wanted to.

  Who was I kidding? I could feel my pulse in my pants.

  "I'm not sure why you are so shocked. I think we've already proved that together we are combustible."

  I blinked for a moment more before I began gathering my thoughts. "I have no plans to sleep with you tonight. We're supposed to be finding a blackmailer together and that's it."

  His lips curved into something I'd say crossed between a smirk and a smile. "I almost believe that you believe that's all that's between us." His gaze went dark and molten in a blink. "Almost."

  I didn't want to admit it, but getting lost in all that heat and control emanating from him didn't sound all bad. In a different time and place. I took a deep breath and released it nice and slow. My pulse raced and I needed to get it back under control.

  "What are we doing?" I fell back against the seat and sank into the soft leather covering. That it felt like sinking into warm butter only made it harder for me to concentrate on doing the right thing.

  "We're exploring, babe. We are consenting adults with intersecting interests. Why wouldn't we see where that goes?"

  "I think that goes without saying, but I'll remind you anyway. There are pictures out there that could damage us both. Maybe me more than you, but still. I don't think either of us is ready for a huge scandal right now."

  He nodded. "Agreed. That's why I've hired someone professional to investigate for us. It's too important for us to screw around with, wouldn't you say?"

  I tipped my head forward and dragged my gaze to his. As usual the dark intensity of his beautiful eyes sucked me in. I wanted to give in, I really did. But my fear was still palpable as was the sting of being broke. The facade I had to maintain exhausted me, but I had to keep going like this until I got my career to the point I didn't have to worry quite so much.

  Everything hinged on this restaurant opening. If that went well then I believed everything I'd dreamed of would finally fall in place. The network would want to renew the show and a successful Las Vegas restaurant would open doors far beyond my expectations.

  To take another risk with this beautiful man right now would be too crazy.

  Right?

  "You told someone else?" I finally asked after putting the brakes on my runaway thoughts.

  "Don't worry. Hiring him meant an ironclad non-disclosure contract and complete discretion."

  Some of the alarm I felt dissipated, but not by much. "I don't know... Secrets in this business are almost nonexistent."

  "Well, blackmail isn't. And if we don't find out who's responsible, there's the constant threat that it could happen again looming over us. I for one, will not tolerate that kind of thing and you shouldn't either."

  Anger flared inside me. As much as I enjoyed Vincent's brand of sexual magnetism and control, when it came to my livelihood and career, I did not want the interference.

  "Don't presume to know what is best for me. You should have come to me before confiding my secrets to a stranger."

  A frown suddenly marred Vincent's beautifully carved face. His jaw hardened and that little muscle just below his cheek twitched.

  "Don't look at me like that either. I am not a child. This is MY life."

  "If you don't want me to look at you like that, then don't act like that. You are absolutely not alone in this situation. I'm in those pictures too."

  "I thought you said they wouldn't hurt you." My anger had morphed into high gear and it was full steam ahead. "What's really going on here?"

  I glanced toward the driver and the thin glass that separated us from him. He'd probably figured it all out too.

  "It's soundproof. He doesn't hear anything I don't want him to."

  I didn't care. That I had the sudden urge to stick my tongue out or flip him the bird unnerved me. I was starting to lose it again.

  "This whole think sucks."

  He stared at me for another heartbeat before he let out a chuckle and shook his head.

  "Am I amusing you? Is that where we've gone now? You find this funny?"

  His jaw tightened and his smile died. "If you don't want me to laugh, then don't be ridiculous. Hiring a discreet professional was the best option here. Or are you prepared to have to pay your blackmailer again? In my experience, once they get a taste for the money and they know they have you over a barrel, then nine times out of ten they will be back again and demanding more."

  I took another deep breath and held it for a few seconds. I had thought of that, but at the time I didn't see any other choice.

  "And what will you do when we find out who it is? How can we make it stop?"

  Before he could answer the car came to a smooth stop in front of a large wrought iron gate. "Is this it?" I tried to peer out the side window to get a better look but the darkness and shrubbery made it difficult to see anything.

  "Yes. Home sweet home."

  When the gate opened enough for the car to go through, the driver pulled forward and a moment later I got my first look at the home of the famous Vincentius Romeo Cabrini.

  "Holy shit," I said, turning to glance at him. "Are you serious?" I'd been expecting something nice, but Jesus, this was far beyond anything I'd imagined.

  Through the front window I could see a long well-lit driveway that wound its way through a combination of lush green grass offset by geometric designs of gravel and desert-friendly plants. Eventually it led to a circular driveway in front of a massive, modern home that had a myriad of huge windows to break up all the angular lines and concrete.

  It looked almost more like a modern art masterpiece than a house. Although calling it a house was also a huge understatement. "Damn."

  "I'm glad you approve." He chuckled. "It took a long time to design."

  "You designed it too?"

  "In a sense. I sat down with an architect and told him exactly what I wanted. After several back and forth sessions and more than one heated disagreement, we settled on this."

  The car door opened and I slid out and stood in the driveway staring up at the breathtaking beauty. "Well, so far I'd say it was worth every fight you endured. It's spectacular."

  "Then by all means let’s get you inside."

  As I marveled over every detail from the car to the front door, including the water features that flanked each side of the walkway, I realized that my reservations from before were melting away and that I was more comfortable with Vincent than I'd expected.

  He opened the door and if I thought the outside was spectacular, then I had no words to adequately describe the space.

  The entryway opened to a massive open concept space drenched in neutrals that were dominated by gray and silver tones. It breathed masculinity much like the man who lived here.

  Every which way I turned there was something more to take in. A fully stocked bar on one side, a large living area with a sectional sofa that invited guests to relax. I could picture sitting there under a blanket with a hot mug of tea while binging Netflix on his giant screen TV above a fireplace that mesmerized.

  The kitchen though. I nearly moaned and I'd seen many fantastic cooking sp
aces over the years. My best friend Harper in New York had one. It wasn't large like this but what it lacked in size it more than compensated in charm.

  This kitchen did not lack in size. And the acres of marble countertops offered so much prep space. Was it crazy to admit that I wanted to cook here?

  When I finally inspected every inch and got my mouth closed again, I turned to see Vincent not far behind me with his hip leaned against the counter watching me.

  "You approve?"

  I nodded, unable to hold back my huge grin. "It's amazing. The meals I could cook here..."

  "It would be an honor to have the famous Zia cook in my kitchen."

  I smirked as my muscles once again tensed. "You already tricked me into it once, I don't think I need to do it again."

  "My loss."

  I tried to read if there was some kind of hidden meaning in his words, but I couldn't discern anything beyond the words.

  "Do you cook?"

  "Not much. My schedule doesn't allow for much down time. So I use a service that keeps my fridge filled with meals to enhance my training."

  I wrinkled my nose. "That doesn't sound very appealing."

  "They're actually quite good. Although I dare say they don't compare to the magic you create."

  Another zing shot through me and I couldn't decide if it had more to do with pride or arousal. This man had a way of keeping me off balance I couldn't describe.

  He fished in his pocket and pulled out his phone. I thought he might be bored with our conversation until the lights dimmed in the kitchen and living rooms and other lights faded on through the glass walls that led to his backyard and an outdoor kitchen that might be larger than the one we stood in.

  "C'mon. I want to show you more." He grabbed my hand and led me to the other side of the patio and the blue glowing pool. It was both gorgeous and inviting, but it was the view beyond that made me sigh.

  The entire Vegas strip in the distance made up his spectacular view. I could even just make out the giant S on The Sinclair. "We are closer to the hotel than I thought."

  He came up behind me and I felt his body heat moments before he stroked his hand down my arm. "I like my privacy, but I also like to feel the energy of the strip. It's one of the reasons why I split my time between here and there. The gym where I train is near the strip. I spend a lot of hours there."

  "You mean this giant of a house doesn't come with a gym?"

  "Of course it does. A fully equipped gym, a boxing ring, a basketball court, driving range and of course the pool and hot tub."

  "Of course," I mumbled. I had a feeling there wasn't a detail this place didn't provide. I'd gotten a glimpse of Vincent's luxurious life in the suite at The Sinclair, but I'd never imagined this kind of wealth.

  Everywhere I turned the dollar signs stacked up and I had an itch to go online and google the net worth of championship boxers. I'd had no idea it included all of this.

  A thought popped into my head and I blurted out a question before I could stop myself. "What's your family like?"

  The loose grip he had on my arm tightened noticeably. It didn't hurt, but it certainly got my attention.

  "My family?" His voice had turned low and quiet. Almost deadly. Or maybe cold.

  I considered turning to face him, but decided against it. I didn't want to make this anymore intimate than it already was.

  "Probably not as exciting as you are thinking. Me, my mother and my stepfather immigrated to this country when I was very young. I'm not sure why they chose Vegas of all places, but its where we settled after a few other short-term places. I didn't speak English back then so my mother home schooled me until I learned."

  I tried to imagine a young Vincent running the streets of Vegas, unable to communicate with any other children. It sounded lonely. But none of that explained this overabundance of wealth.

  "And your stepdad? What did he do?"

  Vincent's muscles stiffened again and I had a feeling whatever the rest of the story was, it wasn't good.

  Instead of answering me, he turned me around in his arms and tilted my chin up with one finger until our gazes met.

  "Why the sudden interest in my family?" Suspicion filled his eyes and that only confirmed that what was in his past definitely wasn't all good.

  I shrugged. "Just trying to get a better idea of who you are."

  "Who I am has nothing to do with my family. By the time I was fifteen I was on my own and by seventeen professionally fighting. Everything you see in and around me was built by and for me. I literally and figuratively fought my way to the top."

  I'm not sure I could agree that his family had nothing to do with who he was, but it was clear that this self-made man had a chip on his shoulder about the past. Unless... "What about your real father? Where does he fit into the story?"

  Vincent's eyes shuttered and the muscle in his jaw ticked several times. "He doesn't. I went thirty-five years not knowing who he was and that was fine with me. I didn't need anyone to interfere with my plans."

  My mind reeled at the information and the anger filled delivery. Clearly there was some baggage. Not that I couldn't relate. We all had our growing pains and the subsequent secr—.

  "Wait. I thought you were thirty-six."

  "I am." His eyes narrowed as if to communicate to me that he didn't want to keep going. Something I couldn't help but ignore.

  "So you found out who your father is this year?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  VINCENT

  Fuck. I hadn't counted on Zia grilling me about my past. Or her figuring out that I'd just met my biological father. I definitely didn't want her to know yet who he actually was. She was still too skittish.

  Finding out that I belonged to the infamous Russo family wasn't going to convince her to get more involved with me. She'd run and run fast.

  "I did. Curiosity got the better of me and I hired a private investigator to locate him. Needless to say, that reunion turned into a nightmare before it even got started. Turns out he wanted nothing more to do with my mother before I was born and even less to do with me now."

  She grimaced and I caught the flash of pity on her face. Anger simmered and I feared if I didn't get the subject changed now, things were going to go so far south there'd be no recovery.

  "I'm sorry," she started. "I can't—"

  "Don't be," I interrupted. "What's important is that the investigator I used was able to easily locate someone who should not have been easy to find. I knew next to thing about him. It's the same guy who is going to find our blackmailer. But first we need to gather all the intel we can so he can do his job."

  Zia laughed. "Intel? You make us sound like spies or something."

  I frowned, not at all sure she was taking this as seriously as I thought she would. "Evidence then. I assume you have some correspondence. Information on where you sent the money, etc."

  "Yes, I have an email from my ex with one of the pictures from your villa attached." She pulled out her phone and started scrolling across the screen.

  "Jesus, Zia. I hope you haven't been using the hotel WiFi to access your email. Do you know how easily it can be hacked?"

  She smirked and glared. "I'm not an idiot. I use my private cellular service that is supposedly less hackable. But is anything secure anywhere? Someone took pictures of us in a private residence without our knowledge. So I pretty much assume that anything can happen. It's kind of why I've been living on pins and needles since Italy."

  She turned her phone around and aimed it in my direction. There, that's the first email I got from him. It came two days after I got home."

  Dear Sinner (I mean my dearest ex-wife),

  Did you have a nice trip to Italy? I know it's customary for the traveler to bring back souvenirs and gifts, but I decided to get you something instead. Enclosed is a special memento that I think will help you remember all of your transgressions from this fated trip. If you don't care for this one, don't worry, I have plenty more where that came
from.

  It seems you were far more adventurous with Mr. Cabrini than you ever were with your own husband. Kind of explains why things didn't work out, wouldn't you say?

  Now what should we do? Your sins could be quite explosive in the right hands. In fact, I'll bet someone like TMZ would be willing to pay me for these pictures. Of course, no one would be surprised to see their Man Whore Thug likes to tie down women before he fucks them, but last I checked your network has a decidedly different reputation.

  What will they think when they, along with the rest of the world, see their newest family star spread her legs wide on the very day she announced her divorce?

  While it came as no surprise to me that my darling wife is an actual deviant slut, those network execs may have a different perspective.

  However, I have decided that I don't have to be completely heartless despite my pain and suffering, so I've decided to allow a bidding war.

  If you'd like to retain your secrets I suggest you bid high and fast. I am feeling impatient.

  Hugs and kisses,

  Your no longer forgiving husband

  If I thought my blood pressure was high before I read this email, then I was learning how very wrong I could be. My head pulsed so hard I thought it might explode from my body.

  "Please tell me this link at the end of this email isn't real." I seethed as I waited for her answer. Although I knew exactly what her response would be.

  "It was. He'd put up a listing on an auction site for pictures of a female celebrity caught on camera with her man whore thug. His words not mine. And by the time I got the nerve to finally click on it, it was already receiving bids."

  "What the fuck?"

  She frowned, her lip quivering. "My sentiment exactly."

  "How did you get him to take it down?"

  She remained quiet and I had a bad feeling what she was about to say was going to piss me off even more.