A SECRET SIN

18

We stood like that for endless seconds before he brought his lips to my forehead in a poignant kiss.

“I want to go home now.” I forced the words past the python of emotion strangling my throat.

“f**k, baby. I’m so sorry. I was only trying to make you understand how much I want you.”

I nodded, ready to say anything to get away. I needed to be alone.

By some mercy of God, Bishop took my hand without further argument. I’d half expected him to

keep me captive and demand to talk it out, but instead, he wiped my tears and led me to the door.

Within minutes of returning home, I was back in my childhood bed and more lost than I’d ever been in

my life.

FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE MEETING BISHOP, HE’D GONE COMPLETELY SILENT. A SOLID WEEK WITH NO

texts. No calls. No unexpected appearances. I felt as though the world had succumbed to winter

months early, leaching the city of color and warmth.

How could that be? How could I feel so bereft when I’d known him for such a short time? When

I’d only just allowed myself to admit my feelings for him?

One particular question haunted me day and night. Was this thing between us over?

I wasn’t sure we had built enough of a foundation to come back from such devastation. I couldn’t

help but wonder if it was all my fault. Had I rejected him one too many times? I had been so insistant

that I wanted to be free of him, but now that sounded like the worst possible outcome. The thought of

never feeling the searing heat of his ravenous stare brought on a head-to-toe shudder.

You could always reach out to him, you know.

There she was again. The voice of reason. She’d been goading me for days, but I couldn’t seem to

summon the confidence to make that first move. Did he hate me for being insensitive? Could he really

care for me if he’d been willing to share me? All my doubts were quicksand, keeping me mired down

in uncertainty.

I passed each day in a hazy melancholy, hiding in my room. The following Saturday, however,

was to be spent almost entirely at a family wedding—a blessing and a curse. The Lucciano crime

family, the most secretive and solitary of the Five Families, was hosting a massive gathering to

celebrate the wedding of Alessia Genovese, one of the boss’s daughters. The intrigue surrounding

their family and rarity of such a unified event was a welcome distraction. But at the same time, a day

spent gushing over love and forevers felt like the worst kind of torture because a niggling splinter of

truth wedged its way further under my skin every day, screaming at me that I was allowing my chance

at true happiness to slip between my fingers.

I’d wanted my independence, but at what expense? What if I had, as my mother used to say, cut off

my nose to spite my face? Did exploring all that life had to offer necessarily preclude me from a

relationship? Wasn’t that, in fact, one of the many facets of life I was looking to sample?

Deep in my gut, I knew the answer.

Seeing the bride and groom so happy together brought tears to my eyes. I was thrilled for them and

upset with myself. I tried to convince myself that even if I couldn’t fix things with Bishop, I’d learned

a valuable lesson. That either way, I was better off. But when the dancing began, and a handsome

young man asked me to dance, I didn’t feel better off at all. I felt awkward and icky. I should have

been flattered to have been approached. The guy was cute, and he knew how to move, yet all I wanted

to do was cry because it wasn’t his arms I wanted around me.

Sensing the sting of tears in the back of my throat, I apologized in a rush, then fled for the

ballroom exit. My departure didn’t go unnoticed. A minute later, the oldest of my two little sisters

joined me on a bench in the grand hotel hallway.

“Want to talk about it?” Aria asked, bumping my shoulder.

“Not sure it’ll do any good.”

“I’m assuming this is about that gorgeous hunk of a man who came to the house?” she asked with a

hint of teasing.

“Yup.”

“He hurt you? ’Cause … I know a guy.”

Her joke was so unexpected that I coughed out a laugh that edged on a sob. “Not necessary, but

thanks. And besides, I’m just as guilty as he is. We’ve both made such a mess of things.”

“It may be trite, but dude, there are so many fish in the sea. Have you looked on Tinder lately?”

I gaped at her. “Ari! You have a Tinder account? You’re only seventeen!” Dad would have an

aneurysm if he found out.

“It’s just a profile,” she tried to assure me. “I don’t have to interact with anyone if I don’t want to.

Aren’t you even a little bit curious about what’s out there?” She pulled out her phone and opened the

app.

I was stunned my little sister had been so adventurous and a tiny bit fascinated with the images of

the men who came up. We laughed at a few, and several might have piqued my interest had I seen

them weeks earlier, but that wasn’t the case now. None of them were what I wanted. None of them

were Bishop.

“Come on, let’s start a profile for you. It’s super easy. I can even do it for you.”

“No. I’m not interested, but thanks.” I smiled. It was sweet of her to try to help. I only wished it

were that easy.