Page 15 of SINS & Riley (Dante & Riley #2)

ZVER

“Y ou okay?” Dominic asks.

I don’t answer. I just take another sip.

For two hours I’ve sat here, drowning in whiskey, replaying every second of tonight.

To prod me, he adds, “Sir.”

Glass to my lips, I glance up, one brow lifted.

Am I okay?

The fuck if I know.

A dozen times I carried Riley through every hall in the house. Eleven times I almost took her to my room—a reckless move that there’s no turning back from.

And one that would’ve fucked up both our worlds.

And yet, it’s the only thing I’ve wanted since the moment I dragged her here. Her. Shackled right where she belongs.

My room. My bed. My Riley.

Because when faced with the voodoo hex of Riley’s body, my brain short-circuits.

So around and around the castle we went. Her, with those soft curves and smart mouth. Me, the idiot letting her ride me like a carousel.

Dominic steps closer, still waiting for a response.

I give him one. “I’m fine.”

The vein in his temple says otherwise, pulsing like it’s about to burst.

“Someone could’ve seen you,” he grinds out, and I know he’s not talking about my midnight lap with Riley.

He means the town.

“People see me all the time, Dominic.”

“On camera?”

Calmly, I swirl the scotch, letting the amber catch the firelight. “I dealt with the cameras at the clinic.”

“Nice of you to mentioned that.” He shakes his head. “And that doctor got a good look at you.”

“A washed-up junkie drowning in coke and escorts saw me. In my mask. What’s your point?”

“The point is, you should’ve let me handle it.”

“Riley was at the doctor because I did let you handle it.”

“Wrong. Riley was at the doctor because you backed her into a corner.” He presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“You’ve got a man bleeding out in the basement and a meeting with your uncle in two weeks.

If we don’t squeeze him for everything he knows, we lose our leverage. And he’s already circling the drain.”

“Then keep him alive,” I say evenly. “IV, vitamins, saline—hell, battery acid if that’s what it takes. He breathes until I decide otherwise.”

Dominic’s eyes cut to mine. “You’re distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.”

Who am I kidding? I’m more distracted than a senator at a strip club.

I drain the glass, but the scotch doesn’t burn the taste of her off my lips.

Enzo always said scotch could wipe away almost anything—regret, reason, restraint.

But never desire.

Riley is pure, defiant, breathtaking desire.

And tastes a million times sweeter buck-naked and coming all over the alabaster bishop.

The oversized French relic was an indulgence of my mother’s. She blew two hundred grand on, with full bragging rights of its lineage to the court of Versailles.

Christ, the girl came so hard I thought she’d shatter it.

I shake my head, smiling. If the queen could see it now, she’d claw her way out of the grave.

My mother, too.

I shake my head. Not wanting Riley? That’s like telling my lungs to go without air. And my cock doesn’t exactly have an off switch.

Inside my skull, the chant pounds like a war drum— stick to the plan. Stick to the plan .

Because the plan is all I’ve got.

The only way this mess of a life even begins to carve out a path back to my father.

The problem?

The plan never accounted for Riley Mullvain.

“Well,” I mutter into the empty glass, “considering the plan was to never touch her, genius—what now?”

“What?” Dominic’s eyes narrow, sharp with suspicion.

“Nothing,” I say. Shit. I forgot he was still in the room.

How much have I had to drink?

He studies me for a long beat. “I can work on Emilio.”

And why not? Dominic’s a world-class enforcer. Torture should be in his wheelhouse.

But then I see his hand. The dried blood crusting at his knuckles. And something in me tightens. In his world, you maim or you don’t. You kill, or you don’t.

But torturing a man to the edge of death and suspending him there—relishing that precise twist of the knife—takes a special kind of twisted, sick fuck.

That’s not Dominic’s world.

That’s mine.

One deranged motherfucker, at your service.

A sliver of conscience and you hesitate. Misstep. One wrong knot was all it took. Emilio had Dominic’s knife.

I caught him a breath before Emilio sliced his throat. And it took every ounce of self control not to kill Emilio on the spot.

Because if Dominic dies, I’m the one explaining to his grandmother and his kids why he’s gone.

And that’s not happening.

Dominic’s with me because there’s safety under the shadow of Zver. He knows it. And Riley will learn it soon.

He blows out a breath. “I won’t fail you again.”

My eyes narrow. Rarely does Dominic piss me off. But right now he’s smashing my last good nerve with a sledgehammer.

“Remind me, what’s your job?” I ask.

A hard breath. “To protect Riley.”

I jab a finger at his loyal face. “And despite her best efforts, is she still breathing?”

He nods once.

“Then you haven’t failed me.”