Page 31 of SINS & Riley (Dante & Riley #2)

RILEY

“W hat do I do?”

My plea falls on deaf ears.

I've been laying on top of Dante’s sarcophagus for so long I'm shivering. Would it kill them to turn up the heat in here?

Tears streak my face hot and fast.

I’ve got nowhere to go and no idea what to do.

And maybe I don't have any control over my life. But I can control the one thing my Da couldn't control.

Where and when I die.

“ Ugh. That’s the problem with ghosts. You never fucking answer back.”

“Riley!”

For a split second, my blood ices.

Then I realize it’s not my Da. Nor is it Dante.

“I know you’re here!” The voice booms down the marble hall, all loud and cocky. His thick Russian accent announcing his presence like a bull in a Moscow china shop.

I don’t answer. Or run. Or hide.

Not that there’s any way to disappear in here.

Or anywhere on earth, really.

Hence why Zver is here now.

Tracker or no tracker, having Dominic’s car is basically a neon sign flashing over here .

Heavy footsteps make their way, closing and fast. Then, they stop.

I don’t even have to look to know he fills the doorway, flooding the room with that annoyingly dominant energy that suffocates everything in its path. Six pack and gun included.

His voice is oddly subdued. “There’s a weird trail of blood outside my office.” His tone dips. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

I fling an arm over my face. “Nope.”

“We need to talk.”

I scrub at my eyes with the heel of my hand. “Maybe I don’t want to talk. If you’re going to kill me, how about we skip past you monologuing me to death, and just do it. Let me rest in peace with someone worth loving.”

His head tilts, sharp as a blade testing skin. “If you’re referring to Dante, do you mean love? Or loathe?”

“Fuck you,” I snap, angry tears still dripping.

“Look at me, Pom.”

I blink the tears away and do.

Half of me wishes my scowl could hit him like a laser beam and shatter his non-existent heart.

The way he shattered mine.

The other half wishes I didn’t have to look at him at all.

God, why does he have to look so good? It’s like Michelangelo carved him as a special order request for the deadliest of all sins—lust.

Meanwhile, I’m rocking athleisure and a ponytail. DoorDash delivery, at your service.

He slides his hands into his pockets. His signature tell when he’s wrestling for control. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I glare. “You’ve already hurt me.”

The sound that follows is closer to a growl than words. “Fine. I’m not going to kill you.”

“No?” My laugh is sharp, bitter. “You’re just going to sell me.”

His brows slash together. “What?”

“I heard all about your arrangement.” I lift my fingers in air quotes.

“You mean you overheard .” He rolls his eyes. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you eavesdropping is a very bad habit?”

Is he seriously lecturing me right now?

I blink up at him. “Yeah. It ranks right up there with kidnapping and killing people .”

I drag in a long, meditative breath.

Ironically, he does the same.

And just like that, we’ve formed the worst yoga class ever.

Then he’s closer.

Too close.

Heat rolls off him in waves, the kind that makes me want to lean in and curl up against him like a warm fire.

I hate myself for it.

His cologne cuts through the air. It’s clean and leathery, masculine and intoxicating.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in and take a long, greedy whiff. Like he’s fucking oxygen.

Hello, Therapy? Yeah, me again. Table for one.

And when did he even have time to shower, let alone change into fresh clothes and splash on cologne?

Slowly, deliberately, he plucks one of the roses resting on Dante’s sarcophagus. He frowns and studies it.

Of course he recognizes them. Why shouldn’t he? They’re from his garden.

They’re the very same ones he drowns me in morning, noon, and night.

And the same ones I’ve been laying at Dante’s tomb since day one.

The fresh bloom spins between his fingers as he clears his throat. For half a second, I brace for him to say something kind. Maybe even sentimental.

Wrong again.

“So let me get this straight. You think I’m going to sell you. Or kill you. And your brilliant plan is to run here? Grab a vase of roses and lay them at the feet of Dante D’Angelo’s corpse.”

He plucks a single petal from the bloom and lets it flutter to the ground.

“The man treated you like shit.”

A humorless laugh claws up my throat. “As shitty as the man who strapped a tracker around my neck?”

His mouth curves, sharp and merciless. “Touché.”

The silence stretches between us, long and sticky, like warm taffy pulled to its breaking point… until it finally snaps.

He brushes the rose across my lips, ghosting over my cheek, before lowering them to rest between my breasts. His fingers follow, curling with terrifying tenderness around the base of my throat.

“Hold still.”

I freeze as every muscle locks. My swallow sticks halfway down.

Oh, God. This is it.

He’s going to kill me.

He’s actually going to kill me with his bare hands.

If I wasn’t his latest victim, it would almost be badass.

Tears spill hot from both eyes as my hands clutch protectively over my belly.

My lids squeeze shut.

Please, Da. Look out for us.

Then—

The world explodes in a single metallic snap .

My eyes fly open. Between two fingers, he dangles the necklace—my leash—swaying above my face.

Then, I see the glint of steel. Da’s knife glimmering in his other hand.

The move, the one he just did just sent me free, it’s lethal and familiar all at once.

I stare hard. Am I imagining things? Or is this the exact move Dante did. “Did you just… slice it apart?”

With a casual shrug, he retracts the blade. “I lost the key.”

“What are you doing?” My voice is thin and strangled, every syllable scraped raw.

He sets both the necklace and the knife on my belly, the weight of them cold and final. “Giving you the only thing I can.”

“What?”

“Your freedom.” He nods toward the door. “Dominic’s waiting in the car. The arrangements aren’t to kill you. Or sell you.” His thumb catches a tear. “They’re to make you disappear. New name. New life. There’s money in a bank account. A villa waiting. But you have to leave. Now. There’s a plane?—”

“Wait…” The words stumble through me, heavy and strange, refusing to land.

Zver isn’t doing something vile to me. So why does it hurt?

“You’re… giving me my freedom?” I repeat.

His mouth twists into a tight line. “Yes.”

I don’t understand. My voice splinters on a single word. “Why?”

“Because…” His gaze flickers, searching for words like they don’t exist. Or maybe they’re words he refuses to say. He slams the door on it with a growl. “Because I am. End of story.”

I should be elated.

Throwing a fucking party.

But something about this feels wrong. So wrong, it aches.

And I can't explain it, but it feels like I'm losing Dante all over again.

“Can I come back?” My voice trembles. “What if I…”

What if I love you?

Shit, Riley—don’t say that.

“What if I… want to see the kids?”

His gaze darkens, his expression suddenly charged with something too raw to name. “You want to see… the kids?” he snaps.

My knee bounces with nerves. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. “Of course I want to see the kids. They’re… wonderful. Why wouldn’t I want to see them?”

“No reason I guess.”

“Then, I will.”

“Fine.” His voice is rough, the edges sharp enough to shred. “They’ll be right here. Feel free to visit them anytime you like.”

Our eyes lock, electricity sparking in the space between us—strange, charged, and so volatile, neither of us moves.

He’s letting me go.

And suddenly, I can’t breathe.

Why don’t I want this?

His arms sweep around me, strong and steady.

I don't know if it's an embrace or what, but instincts take over. I wrap mine around his shoulders, butterflies erupting in my gut.

For one dizzying heartbeat, it feels like he’s lifting me onto a pedestal.

Instead, he sets me gently on my feet.

And then he takes a wide step back. “You’d better go.”

I nod, though my body feels like it’s splintering apart. My heart slams against my ribs. “I just…”

The words die on my tongue.

Don’t be an idiot, Riley. The nice psychopath is letting you go.

His dark eyes pin me. “You just… what?”

I shake my head, forcing the lie. “Nothing.”

With Da’s knife in one hand, and the necklace in the other, I make my way to the door.

His palm presses against the small of my back, scorching, leaving a delicious print on my skin.

“There’s just one more thing I need from you, Pom.” He says it like an afterthought.

“Anything.” Why did I just say that?

The tension between us draws tight as barbed wire. His hand cups my jaw, dragging me closer. “One kiss.”

The words splinter me.

It's always been his price. Since that first night. The night he saved me.

I nod, and his mouth is on mine.

It’s not gentle. Not sweet.

It’s brutal and consuming—months of rage and longing detonating in one desperate collision. A kiss neither of us needed… until now.

The fierce drag of his mouth on mine, the reckless slide of our tongues. His hands grip my face so hard, near bruising, dragging me under until the world falls away.

And I taste everything, his fury, his restraint.

And maybe… even his love. The love he’ll never admit.

The love I’ll never confess.

And it's enough. This kiss. It’s meant to sear. To scar.

To brand itself into me for a lifetime.

When we finally come up for air, my lips are swollen, my body trembling with need, my soul wrecked beyond repair.

Zver, on the other hand, looks unaffected. Calm. Unfazed.

I don’t know what I expected, but after that kiss, it sure as hell wasn’t this.

No lingering possession in his pitch-black eyes.

No big, bad alpha back off, she’s mine.

No hunger pulling him back to my lips.

If anything, the expression he wears is… regret.

With that, he leads me to the car, opens the door, and guides me inside. Then he shuts it— shuts me —out of his world for good.

I can’t hear him through the glass, but I don’t need to.

His mouth forms the words with brutal clarity.

Goodbye, Pom.