Page 1 of Ruin Me With Lies

CHAPTER ONE

Stefano

A LONG TIME AGO,the Bible gave me a choice:God, or money.

Naturally, I chose money.

There are moments when I regret that choice.Fleeting, razor-thin moments.Because when you kneel at the world’s altar, darkness isn’t just a shadow.It’s a predator.It clings to you, invades your every pore, owns you.And unless you learn how to master it, wield it,becomeit…it will devour you.Leave you mangled.Begging for the God you rejected.

And right now, as I stare down at the text on my screen, is one of those moments.

Santo:In Vegas.Need to meet.Urgent.JB urgent.

Just like that, my spectacular mood is up in smoke.I was riding high half an hour ago.Walked out of my private grooming suite sharp as a blade.Fresh trim, beard lined to perfection, neck loose from a deep-tissue beatdown.Hands handled, smooth as silk.

And now… “Shit.”

Oscar, my driver, catches my attention in the rearview mirror.“Everything good, boss?”

“Not a chance.”

There was a time when seeing “Guy” on my phone screen meantgoodnews.But ever since “Guy” dropped his decade-long facade and revealed himself as Don Santo Luciani?His name’s the last thing I want to see on my screen.“Santo” brings me nothing but bad news and dire warnings.He’s a goddamn black cat.

Anin-personmeeting?Yeah, some shit’s about to go down.

But if that son of a bitch is here to dump ashes in my garden, he’ll have to wait.

I pocket my phone and step out of the car, straighten my jacket and cufflinks, then head inside the building, right up to Mayor Lucy Rainford’s office.

“You’re early.”She flicks her auburn hair over her shoulder and hits a button on her desk phone.“Renee, hold my calls.”

“I’m right on time.”I lock the door behind me and close the distance to her desk.“Did you get the signatures?”

She straightens from her chair, grabs a manila envelope, then sashays around the desk and perch that fine ass of hers on the edge.“I’m a woman of my word.”

I snatch the envelope and check the pages inside.Every signature’s right where it should be.“That you are.”

She tugs up her skirt, parts her tanned, toned legs, then grips my tie and pulls me in.“Time to pay up.”

When I was a boy, mypapatold me:“With every warm body a man fucks, he leaves a sliver of his soul behind.Piece by piece.Until he wakes up empty.Soulless.”

Said it brings nothing but bad luck, misfortune, and an early grave.

Maybe it was bullshit.Maybe not.

But I chose to believe it.Chose to not have pieces of myself scattered in strangers.I’m greedy like that.Selfish like that.

Some men could fuck a hole in a wall and be just fine.

I’m not one of them.

If I’m going to be losing pieces of myself, it has to be for something more valuable than a fleeting orgasm.I’d rather go without than waste myself on a powerless pussy.

Pussy without power is a waste.

Sex, for me, is transactional.Sex is business.Always business.

I’ve got an irresistible appeal and a praised prowess, and I wield both like a weapon.My dick is its own currency.It speaks in the languages of high-level favors, leverage, blackmail…death.