Page 2 of Forbidden Sins

“I can go as long as you need me to.” Sebastian’s eyes widen slightly the moment he says it, as if he realizes immediately just how inappropriate that sounds.

“I mean—I’m fine, princess. I can manage a couple-mile run.

” He gives me a lopsided grin, running his hand through his hair again.

“I’d hope I could, anyway. I’m not much good to you if lifting a few weights and swimming a handful of laps means I can’t chase a man down afterward if someone comes after you. ”

I roll my eyes. “Like you’ve ever had to worry about that.

” In the three years that Sebastian’s been my bodyguard, the most dangerous thing that’s happened is him having to ward off overly interested guys at the campus coffee shop when I was in college.

We’ve never actually run into any of the situations that my father worried about when he assigned a personal bodyguard to me—his enemies targeting me, someone trying to kidnap me for ransom.

“Still, I should be able to do my job.” Sebastian shrugs. “Ready to go?”

I nod, grateful to have the embarrassing moment from a few minutes ago over. Still, I can’t shake the image of those swim trunks soaked through, clinging to the long, thick shape of?—

“Christ.” Sebastian looks around as we step out of the gym into the hallway and nearly run into two maids carrying boxes big enough that they have to look around them instead of over.

“What’s going on?” He frowns, looking down the hall to where there’s more staff hurrying to and fro, carrying boxes and long strings of lights and other things that I can’t quite make out.

I flush red for the second time this morning. “My birthday party.” I press my lips together, twisting them to one side. “Dad’s going all out for my twenty-first.”

Sebastian glances at me. “Your actual birthday is Monday, isn’t it?”

I feel that spark of warmth again at the knowledge that he remembered it.

He doesn’t have any need to, really—I shouldn’t care if my bodyguard remembers my birthday, any more than I should care if the cook does, or Bruce, or anyone else who works in the household.

That’s what my father would say, anyway.

But it means something to me that he did remember.

“Yeah.” I bite my lip, glancing back down the hall at the bustle and chaos that I can hear from the adjoining rooms. “But the big party is tonight. Everyone’s invited.”

Sebastian smirks. “By everyone, I assume that means everyone important to your father, and no one important to you?”

“A few people important to me.” I make a face as we walk toward the kitchen. “I got to invite a few of my friends from college. One of them even RSVP’d. I guess for the others, a stuffy party at a New York mansion wasn’t their idea of how they wanted to spend their Saturday night.”

It’s not really the way I’d prefer to spend mine, either, if I’m being honest. The party will be full of my father’s friends and business associates and people I barely know, and while I don’t want to sound ungrateful for the celebration, I’m going to spend most of it smiling and nodding and pretending to have fun while making sure to not sip too much champagne and get tipsy by accident.

It’s not a birthday party so much as it’s a social event for my father’s image—and possibly a way for him to introduce me to the sons of those business associates.

I wince at the thought. That , too, is something I have no interest in.

I’d much prefer to be curled up in my room in the soft pajamas that I love, with a glass of champagne that I can sip on at my leisure and a good book or an episode of the latest TV show I’ve been watching on my tablet.

At most, I might enjoy going out to a fancy dinner and then coming home.

A huge party where I’m the center of attention isn’t my cup of tea, really.

Sebastian chuckles. “Well, I’ll be spending my Saturday night wherever you are, princess. I just go where I’m told.”

I swallow hard, not looking at him as I push forward into the kitchen.

This kind of banter is normal between us—the teasing, the nicknames—but it feels charged suddenly, full of innuendos that I’ve never really noticed before.

Like seeing him come out of the pool, his muscular body dripping wet, shifted something between us.

I’m not sure that I wanted it to shift. As much as I enjoyed the view, I almost wish I could go back and never have gone into the natatorium at all, just so that I didn’t feel this way.

It’s confusing, especially when I know that fantasizing about Sebastian can only damage the comfortable friendship that exists between us. I try not to.

Even so, after three years, it’s hard for him not to factor into those fantasies sometimes.

The kitchen is just as chaotic. The moment we walk in, heading toward the back door, we’re hit by a flurry of voices filling the room—the housekeeper barking out orders to staff, going over the menu with the cook, discussing the ins and outs of everything that’s meant to be served at the party tonight.

I can feel the stress in the air, and I bite my lip, wincing as I look at Sebastian.

He shrugs, smirking, and we both dart out of the back door and into the warm summer morning.

“Glad to get out of that racket,” he says with a grin as we pause on the grassy lawn. “It’s a madhouse in there.”

“Isn’t it?” I wrinkle my nose. “You’d think the President was coming to visit instead of it being my twenty-first birthday party.”

“Nothing but the best for the princess.” Sebastian grins at me, stretching one arm over his head and then the other in preparation for our run, and my mouth goes dry once again when his shirt rides up and I catch a glimpse of the taut, tanned sliver of flesh beneath it.

What is wrong with me? I tear my gaze away, turning so that I’m not looking at him as I run through my own stretching routine. When we’re both limbered up, we start off down the path at a slow jog that will shortly turn into a run.

“You should try to enjoy yourself,” Sebastian says as he jogs easily alongside me, making it clear that any worries I had about him being too tired were misplaced.

“This is probably the last big party like this. It might seem overblown and chaotic right now, but your father isn’t going to be throwing big galas for your twenty-second or twenty-third birthdays, and so on. ”

“Until I get engaged. That’ll be a big blowout.

And my wedding.” Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see Sebastian flinch.

I glance at him, worried he might have tripped on a rock or something, but he seems fine.

He’s keeping pace with me as easily as ever.

Actually—I frown. It seems like he’s slowing himself down to stay next to me.

Like he could take off if I weren’t holding him back.

A bit of my competitive nature takes over, and I speed up a little sooner than I’d meant to. Just as I’d thought, Sebastian matches my pace easily, making it seem effortless.

“Do you ever get tired?” I demand, and Sebastian chuckles.

“I told you I could go as long as you need me to, princess.”

“That’s not what I asked.” I can feel my ponytail starting to cling to the back of my neck, more strands of it sticking to my skin every time it bounces. “Seriously. I think you could lap me right now if you wanted to.”

He shrugs. “That’s not my job.”

I almost shoot back a retort, but I bite my tongue. I know I’m prickly today because of the party, and I don’t want to bicker with Sebastian. Aside from my brother—and as sad as it probably is—he’s my closest friend.

But then again, we’ve spent so much time together over the past three years.

He’s seen all of my life, the ins and outs, all the things that happen day to day.

I made some friends at college, but I’ve always felt like an outsider with them.

I’ve lived all my life so far with more money and privilege than most of them will probably ever have.

And it’s not like I can talk about being the younger child of a mafia don.

That’s not exactly the sort of thing you bring up during the icebreaker in class… or ever, really.

My brother has always been my closest confidant, because he, too, lives with the pressures of being the child of a powerful mafia kingpin.

As the heir, he has pressures even I don’t have to deal with.

And Sebastian knows what this life is like.

The highs and the lows, the good and the bad.

He’s never judged me for being frustrated with it sometimes, even though I have so much money and luxury all around me.

“I think your pace is improving,” Sebastian comments as we round a corner and run through a stand of trees, getting a bit of welcome shade.

The air is a bit cooler here, and I let out a sigh, brushing the damp hair away from my neck.

“We’d have to time you, but I think we made it here faster than last time. ”

“Doesn’t really matter if I can’t enter a race.

” I shrug, trying not to sound as bitter about it as I feel.

I’d broached the idea with my father of starting to train for a half-marathon and then a marathon, but he’d said it was too dangerous, being out in the open around so many other people all on my own.

Too much of a chance for someone to take a shot at me, or enter the race just to grab me.

I think he just doesn’t want me mixing with the riff-raff.

He doesn’t see any value in trying to interact with the things ordinary people do.

He likes being on his metaphorical golden throne, overseeing Manhattan like a king.

I know he sees himself as above the other bosses, Dimitri Yashkov and Rowan Gallagher.

And maybe he is. From what little my brother Luis has told me about the family business, the Italian mafia holds the most territory and the most wealth in New York out of the three crime families.