Sinners Anonymous (Sinners Anonymous, #1)

by Somme Sketcher

“I can’t wait to see what you do, Vicious. You’re going to make your father proud.”

“Huh?” He licks his lips. “You’re jiggling your leg and you haven’t touched your food. Does sitting so close to me make you nervous?” If I didn’t need him to visit my father twice a week, I’d cut his car brakes.

“Speaking of dates, I should probably find Sarah.” “Skyler,” Amelia corrects him with an eye roll. “Her name is Skyler.” “Whatever. I haven’t seen her in a while. She’s probably got her hands on the family china.”

Donatello shoots out his arm and grabs her wrist. “Baby. The villa we just bought in Tuscany, you didn’t even like it, right?” Amelia’s jaw juts. Her nostrils flair. Then she takes a deep breath and sweeps her gaze over me with a frozen smile. “Aurora, sweetheart, would you excuse us for a moment? I just have to remind my husband that if he continues making bets with his brothers, we’ll soon be living in a cardboard box under the pier.”

As I pull away, she only grips me tighter. “And if anything does happen to you,” she says, dropping her voice to a menacing whisper in my ear. “I’ll burn down every one of their hotels, restaurants, and bars to the ground. Everything.”

And for the first time since we met, I see her smile. I think I like it when she smiles.

I laugh too. And I laugh more, harder, leaning into his hard body. Until something dawns on me like a new day. I’m utterly, madly, unacceptably obsessed with Angelo Visconti. My fiance's nephew, near-stranger, and keeper of my darkest secrets. And suddenly, my sin isn’t so funny anymore.

“And anyone who’s a complete cunt?” I recoil at the sound of that word. He glances sideways and smirks. “I mean, anyone who’s a complete…” He waves a hand around. “Canada goose?” “I would have gone with “cuckoo” myself.” “Don’t make me ask you again.”

“Aurora.” I come to a reluctant stop and tilt my head to the sky. “I don’t care what Alberto says. Wear your hair curly.”

“There’s an alternative to confession, you know.” Our eyes clash. Hers sweet and innocent, mine dark and corrupted. “What’s that?” she rasps. But by how fast her chest is rising and falling, I know she already knows. “Atonement.”

“Promise me something, Rory.” I feel her pulse flicker against my thumb. “What?” she whispers. “We’ll find him before your wedding.” She pauses. “Why?” “Because seeing you in your engagement dress is hard enough. But seeing you in your wedding dress?” A growl vibrates deep within me. I tighten my grip. “That’ll be fucking torture.”

But that’s the thing about lines in the sand. Eventually, they wash away, and you can’t remember where you drew them.

Jesus Christ and all his fucking Disciples.

“Open the glove box. There’s something in there for you.” Frowning, I do. Then my smile stretches into a wide grin.

“Would you like to see inside?” Her eyes light up. “Cluck yeah!” “Christ, Rory. Have you ever said a curse word?” “Not once in my life,”

I inhale deeply, filling my soul with the scent of a girl that will never be mine.

“So help me God, if you take another step, I will not be responsible for what I’ll do.” “You’re not a made man, anymore. Remember?” I spit. “You’re just dressed like one.”

Alberto’s Rolls Royce is on fire. Angry flames escape from the windows and windshield, licking the doors and roof. And just a few feet away, a dark figure looms. Angelo. He’s looking up at me, expressionless. I swallow the thick lump in my throat, not daring to breathe. Angelo Visconti isn’t a knight in shining armor, he’s a monster in an Armani suit.

“He doesn’t recognize me outside of the forest, Angelo. That’s why it can’t be knocked down, and that’s why we can’t leave. What my father and I have, it doesn’t exist outside of it.”

“Not too late, Magpie,” he murmurs darkly. “I can take you back to Devil’s Dip right now.” His teeth scrape the shell of my ear. “You’d look good in my bed.”

“Rory?” His thumb pad carves a trail over my jawline. It stops at the corner of my mouth, but I turn my head to catch it between my lips. He lets out a soft moan, watching me, eyes half-lidded with lust, as I slowly lick it. “Yes?” Danger sparking in his eyes, he pushes his thumb further into my mouth, and with wetness pooling between my thighs, I open my mouth wider to take him all in. “Out of all my sins, you’re my favorite.”

Sunday evening I was numb but in denial. Monday, I was itchy. By Tuesday, I’d curled up in the bathroom, my back against the door, my finger hovering over the ‘call’ button on my burner cell. It took me forty-five minutes to work up the courage to press it, because the only thing worse than not knowing is finding out the truth. Well, the truth came in the form of an automated voice on the other end of the line: The number you have reached has been disconnected.

“Oops,” he drawls indifferently, without looking at me. “I think I just dropped my car keys.” His shoulder brushes against mine as he passes. I feel his hot breath in my ear. “Hopefully they aren’t found by a runaway bride.”

“I swear to God, Rory. You better know how to fly, because if you fall, I’m coming with you.”

“I’m going to burn this fucking dress when we get home.” Home. The word alone makes my pulse flutter. “What’s going on?!” I gasp, dizzy from the sudden movement and the feeling of him touching me. “I’m taking what’s mine” “Yours?” He drops me onto the passenger seat of his car and leans against the door frame. “Yeah. A capo needs a wife. Guess I choose you.”

“Do you know how much shit I had to do in a week, Rory?” “Like?” “Like, appoint a new CEO for my business, sell my London apartment. Completely upend my life and move to Devil’s Dip.” His jaw flexes. “Also, I took a detour to San Fran. I had…unfinished business there.” I nod, slowly taking it all in. “But you hate Devil’s Dip.” His eyes harden on the windshield. “But I don’t hate you.”

Gabe and I stand shoulder to shoulder as we watch Angelo’s Aston Martin disappear down the hill, taking a piece of me with it. Beside me, he shifts. “Shame.” I turn. “What is?” “I was looking forward to listening to your call. I never could stand uncle Alberto.”

“What’s your point, Angelo? It’s not worth the scrap of paper it’s written on, not while my father is alive.” I suppose it’s the perfect time to change that, then. I whip out my gun and fire one shot. Shit, after all this time, my aim is still as sharp as a razor, because the bullet goes straight through Alberto’s temple. He doesn’t see it coming, and I remember my father didn’t either. I guess you never expect a bullet in your head from a family member. “What about now?”

“Now what?” she whispers. Our gazes clash. Static crackles over the counter. I set my tumbler on the island. Loosen my tie. “Everybody has five seconds to get the fuck out of my house.”

“I liked that sweater.” “You can have all my sweaters.”

“I stick by what I said,” he mutters. “And what was that?” I rasp back, sinking into the warmth of the bath. “You’re worth starting a war for.”

“Ham and pineapple, please.” He wrinkles his nose. “Fucking hell. Is it too late to give you back?”

“So, uh. What exactly does stealing me entail?” Angelo’s mouth twitches. “I’m not too sure. I’m kinda new to this whole capo thing.” “Oh. So I’m your first captive, then?” “Mhmm,” he murmurs, watching me with dark amusement.

“The Angels of Devil’s Dip, back together again. Fuck man, this is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I can’t believe Angelo Visconti is in love with you.” My ears grow hot at the mere sound of the word. “He’s not.” “Shut up, Rory. He left his entire life in England and came back to Devil’s Dip for you. He’s so in love with you that it makes me sick.” “She’s right, I am.”

“But we haven’t even kissed,” I whisper. It sounds pathetic, even to me, because deep down I know that wouldn’t change a thing. “Kiss me then.” The challenge swirls like an eye of a storm in his gaze. I pause. “Okay.” “Okay.”

“I killed Max because I hated the way he touched you.” “I’ve never had a girlfriend, let alone cheated on one. I just needed you to hate me.” “On Halloween, I had to pull over and fuck my fist in my car at the thought of you because I couldn’t wait to get home.”

“Not just regular happy. I mean really fucking happy,” he growls into my mouth, palming my ass to pull me on top of him. “Can’t stop fucking smiling, don’t want to go to sleep because reality is better than your dreams kind of happy. I want to make you so damn happy that you shit sunshine and piss rainbows and people think you’re as high as a kite when you walk into a room.” He nips my lower lip in mild frustration, and his fingers dig deep into the back of my thighs as he slides me up to his groin. “If you want to be mine, I’ll make you that happy, Rory.”

“And if I don’t?” He pauses, lifts his hand to grip my chin and forces me to meet his molten gaze. “I’ll get on my knees and beg you until you get so sick of me you agree to be mine anyway.”

“I’ll show you what it looks like. Now, be a good girl and moan my name while I worship you.”