Page 82

Story: Sinful Ruin

“Okay,” I whisper.

For a change, he says goodbye before hanging up.

I check myself in the mirror, splash some water on my face, and leave the bathroom. Gigi isn’t on the phone, but she’s looking at her screen.

“Do you mind if I go home?” I ask her.

She lowers her phone. “This isn’t some teenage slumber party. You can stay overnight, go home, or stay the whole week.” She leans in closer. “To be honest, I’m considering the same.”

“Thank God,” Pippa says. “I’ve been waiting for someone to say they missed their man.”

I whip around to look at her. “Julian isn’tmy man.”

She bends down, scooping Alessia up into her arms. “Yet you want to go hometo him.”

“I’ll see if Antonio can pick us up,” Gigi says. “Otherwise, I’ll get one of my father’s men to do it.”

My phone vibrates with a text from Julian.

Julian: Emilio will pick you up in 25 minutes.

I reply to him.

Me: Gigi is asking Antonio for a ride.

Julian: Keep me updated.

Me: Will you be home before me?

Julian: Probably not.

I make a sour face.

Julian: I fully expect you to be in my bed when I do though.

“Can we stop at a coffee shop?”I ask Emilio from his passenger seat.

Antonio picked us up from the mansion, then met Emilio at the gas station. I felt like a child being shuttled between divorced parents as I moved from one car to the other.

Emilio checks the time on the car’s dashboard. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Do you have a bedtime?” I ask. “I seriously doubt you plan to go home, do your skin care routine, and binge-watchGilmore Girlsuntil you fall asleep. We have plenty of time.”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” he mutters. “We just left the gas station. Why didn’t you get coffee there?”

“Last time I checked, that gas station doesn’t have an espresso machine, or oat milk, or my favorite hazelnut syrup.”

He stops at a red light. “When was the last timeyou checked?”

I was a regular at the gas station when I was underage. The old clerk would sell me alcohol, and back then, I loved their blue slushies, mixed with vodka.

“Oh, come on, Emilio,” I groan. “You should get one for yourself, too, since you’ll probably be up all night, right?”

When the light turns green, he signals and turns left, ignoring me.

We’re so close to my favorite coffee shop that’s open twenty-four seven that I can practically smell the coffee.

I sit up straight, hands folded in my lap. “Believe me, it’s way less annoying to get me a coffee than listen to me complain about needing one.” I point at the upcoming streetlight. “Make a left. Brew Delights will be on your right.”