I’m wiping down the counter and when I glance up to greet her, she stops mid-stride.
“What?” I ask, my hand stilling.
She tilts her head, studying me through squinted eyes. “You look different.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Different how?”
“I don’t know.” She circles me slowly, her designer heels clicking on the worn floor. “You’re… glowing. And you were humming.” She stops directly in front of me, her eyes wide. “Oh my gosh. You had sex.”
“Siena!” I glance toward the kitchen door even though we’re alone.
“Don’t ‘Siena’ me. Wait, why are you looking at the kitchen? Is he here?” She grabs my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. “Hold on. It’s more than that.” Her eyes go wide. “Holy shit, did you get off?”
The dish towel slips from my fingers.
“Sophie Bellamorte!” She’s practically shrieking now, but there’s joy in it. “You finally—” The joy evaporates as quickly as it appeared. Her face goes pale. “Please tell me that it wasn’t Rocco.”
“No! Of course not. I fired him, remember?”
“Then who—” She stops. Her gaze sharpens like a blade. “Vin.”
It’s not a question.
“FUCKING VIN?!”
My silence is answer enough.
“No.” She steps back, shaking her head. “No, no, no. Sophie, please tell me you did not havethatmoment with Vin fucking asshole Demonio.”
“It’s not a big deal, Siena. We have an understanding—”
“An understanding?” Her voice pitches higher. “Do you hear yourself? Vin doesn’t do understandings! He doesn’t do relationships. He uses women and throws them away like—” She gestures wildly at my kitchen. “Like takeout boxes!”
I pick up the towel and resume wiping the counter, my voice calm. “I know who he is.”
“Do you?” She plants both palms on the counter, leaning in. “Because the Sophie I know hasneverreally wanted casual sex. The Sophie I know wants a husband and babies and Sunday dinners with family. The Sophie I know—”
“The Sophie you know is 34 years old and capable of making her own choices.” My voice is steely, at least my version of it. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” She peers at me closely, and whatever she sees makes her shoulders slump. “Sophie, damn it, you’re all weird and giddy. Youlikehim.”
“Of course I like him—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You don’t just like him. You—”
The kitchen door swings open.
Vin walks in, and the entire atmosphere shifts. He’s all coiled muscle and tension, his dark eyes sweeping the room before landing on Siena. His jaw tightens, meeting her glare with one of his own.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, his voice flat.
Siena whirls on him. “Protecting my cousin from making the biggest mistake of her life.”
“Siena—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“How dare you.” She stalks toward him, small compared to his 6’ 3” of solid muscle. “She’s not one of your whores, Vin. She’sfamily. She deserves better than you—”
“Stop.” The word comes out sharper than I intend. Both of them turn to look at me.
