Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

Romina blinks at me twice, then falls into a giggling fit. “I really don’t understand why you would do that to yourself. Veterinary technology? Really?”

“Can you imagine if your worth in life was based only on what you could contribute to the Family?” I ask. “That your skills and experiences couldn’t be used to make a difference for society as a whole, if that’s what you wanted, but only to furtherthe Family’s prosperity? But no one asks a woman for advice in our world, even if she were to be the most brilliant expert in whatever field. And, as a woman,I’msimply the means to ensure a good business relationship or to strengthen a man’s position in the organization. So, I chose the vet tech program because I like animals, and because the benefit of gaining that knowledge ismine. Not Cosa Nostra’s. Only mine.”

An uncomfortable silence descends around the table. I know I shouldn’t have been so harsh, but I just couldn’t hold my tongue anymore.

“I’m going to get some air,” I say and, grabbing my purse, leave the table. As I walk away, that strange sensation follows me, yet I’m still unable to pinpoint the reason for it.

The pub has gotten crowded in the last ten minutes, so I have to squeeze among bodies as I head across the room. At the bar, a group of men is loud and contentious, and the bartender is trying to calm everyone down. Between the overall confrontational atmosphere and the heavy aroma of alcohol hanging in the air, I feel like I’m suffocating as I head down the narrow hallway to the exit.

I step out onto the street and take a deep breath. To my right, four people are hanging out, smoking. Needing to distance myself, I turn left and head down the sidewalk, away from the smell, until I reach the corner of the building. The music and raucous laughter from inside the pub reaches all the way here, to this side alley, but it’s much more peaceful than at the front. Closing my eyes, I lean back onto the cold brick wall and finally inhale fresh air. I love being out with my friends, but sometimes, everything is just too much.

“You’ll catch pneumonia, cub.”

I tense, and my eyes fly open. My long-haired stranger is leaning on the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest and head tilted to the side, watching me. My heartbeat soars just from being near him once more. He’s wearing an all-black outfit again—a suit that looks tailored and expensive even in low light, and an unbuttoned coat overtop. I don’t see any weapons, but I have a feeling he’s got more than one on him. Every single molecule of air around him seems to emit a very clear message:Danger! Menace! Keep Back!I ignore the warning, wanting to be closer to him, not further away.

“I needed some air,” I whisper. That odd feeling is buzzing within me now, as if invisible hands are lightly stroking my skin. It was him I sensed.

“I see you found the scarf.” He moves his gaze to my hair accessory.

“Well, it was tied to the handle of my front door. Hard to miss it.”

He just nods. No explanation for how he knows where I live or why he left it there.

“You seem well,” I add. “No bleeding wounds tonight?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Unfortunately?”

“I quite enjoy our little doctor-patient adventures. Maybe next time, when I get shot or stabbed, I’ll seek you out again.”

Just the idea of him getting wounded again makes my chest constrict. Even though it would allow me to see him. Touch him. Maybe, he would even kiss my fingers again, like at our previous two encounters. My guess is it’s his particular way of thanking me. Still, I don’t want him hurt.

“Please don’t.”

He suddenly stiffens, his eyes flaring.

“Please don’t get shot or stabbed again,” I clarify. “What are you doing here?”

“This isn’t a very safe neighborhood. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“I can defend myself when the situation calls for it.”

“Yes, I have a feeling you can.” Pushing away from the wall, he covers the distance between us in a few long strides until he’s standing at arm’s reach. “Turn around.”

I stare into his eyes as he towers over me like some beautiful dark specter. Nothing is even remotely normal about this situation. Casually chatting with a strange man in a deserted alley as if we are neighbors who happened to unexpectedly meet up. Adangerousman who has obviously been following me. Who in their right mind does that? It’s beyond stupid.

And yet . . . Slowly, I turn around, giving him my back.

Rough, heavy fabric lands over my shoulders. The coat is still warm from his body heat, and a faint smell of his cologne invades my senses. It’s not an overbearing, pungent fragrance like many of the Cosa Nostra men prefer, making it difficult to identify his particular scent. It’s more of a subtle comfort than a specific aroma. Something fresh and wild, like the mountain wind.

“Thank you,” I say as I turn to face him.

“No singing tonight?”

“Not that kind of place.”

“Mm-hmm . . . I don’t know much about music, but you were quite bad.”