A Sinner’s Truth: Chapter 18

I don’t know who this man thinks he is. Okay, well, I do know. I just don’t care.

I get that he’s helping me out here, but I’m not about to let him walk in and start issuing demands and buying shit he doesn’t need to be buying. Like my apartment.

“No,” I say, using the firmest tone I can muster.

“No what?” Santo repeats. His lips tilt slightly at the corners as if he’s trying not to smile. Does he think this is funny?

“No, you’re not buying this apartment. No, you’re not going to roll in and think you can just take control of my life and make demands left, right, and centre. That’s not how this is going to work.” I fold my arms over my chest, mostly to stop my hands from waving around the room like a lunatic.

“I’m not buying this apartment. You are,” he says.

“How do you figure that?” I don’t have the funds to buy this place, not until I get access to my trust fund.

“I’ll have my lawyers make sure everything is in your name,” Santo says.

“So, you want to buy this apartment in my name?” I ask, to be sure I’m understanding him correctly.

“Exactly.” He smiles.

“No,” I repeat.

“People don’t say no to me, Aria.”

“Good thing I’m not people then. I’m your wife, and I’m saying no,” I tell him.

“I’m your husband, and you are buying this apartment with our funds. I will not have my wife rely on another man for anything,” Santo fires back.

“I’m not even going to be living here. You’re being ridiculous.” I storm into the kitchen and turn on the coffee machine, not because I want coffee, but because I need something to do so I don’t strangle him.

“I don’t care. You’ll come back here when our arrangement concludes. This isn’t up for debate, Aria,” Santo tells me like his word is law.

“You’re right. It’s not up for debate, because I said no.” I’m about ready to find the nearest object in arm’s reach and start throwing shit.

Santo laughs—actually fucking laughs. Asshole thinks this is a joke. It’s not a joke. “It’s fucking adorable that you think you have a choice here,” he tells me.

“Adorable? Really? I’ll show you adorable.” I pick up the closest thing to me, which happens to be a saucepan lid, and hurl it in his direction.

His laughter quickly dies down as he easily dodges the projectile and starts stalking towards me. Shit, I probably shouldn’t have done that. I just threatened a mafia guy. I may end up with those cement shoes after all, as they drag me to the bottom of the Yarra River.

I take a step backwards when Santo manoeuvres around the counter. He takes one look at me and stops in his tracks. “Get that look off your face, Aria,” he tells me.

“What look?” I ask him.

“Fear. You look like you’re scared of me.”

“You’re a mafia prince. Pretty sure people are supposed to be scared of you,” I counter.

“Not you. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing the already-tousled locks.

“You could.” My voice is quiet. Because it’s true. He could hurt me.

“I wouldn’t. I’m not a monster, Aria,” he says.

I believe him. I do. But there’s a little voice in the back of my head warning me to keep my guard up when it comes to Santo De Bellis. “Okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown the lid at you.”

“No, you should have aimed better and actually hit me. If you’re going to throw shit at people, make sure you hit ʼem,” he says. “We can work on your aim.”

“Most people aren’t ninjas. They can’t duck and avoid things that are flying at them,” I huff. He moved so damn fast. If he didn’t move, it would have hit him.

“You think I’m a ninja?” He chuckles.

“You move like one.”

Just to prove my point, Santo takes two steps forward and picks me up. Spinning around before setting my ass on the benchtop. This all happens within seconds, and I feel a little dizzy. He then spreads my thighs apart, steps between them, and just when I think he’s about to kiss me again, he steps back. “You need to pack. Gio’s planning a party for us.”

“A party? What kind of party? And why?”

“A reception, because he’s overbearing and has a sore spot when it comes to missing out on weddings. He did the same thing when he found out Gabe and Daisy got hitched without telling any of us too,” Santo says.

“Who will be there?” What do I wear? Shit, I’m not ready for a party. To be in a room full of people looking at me. Judging me.

Did they all love her as much as Santo? His fiancée? I don’t want to be compared to her, but I know it’ll happen, if it hasn’t already. I don’t want to take her place in his heart. I’m fine with our arrangement how it is. I don’t need more.

Wanting and needing are two different things, though. I don’t need it, but I think I’m starting to want it. Especially after that kiss. He kissed me like he wanted to, like he couldn’t live without doing it. I want more of that, and maybe more of those orgasms too.

“It’ll just be family,” Santo says.

“Family, okay.” I’ve met his family. I can do this.

Just family, my ass.

When we walk downstairs and come to a stop in front of a foyer full of people all mingling about, everyone we pass congratulates Santo and smiles politely at me.

“I thought you said it was just family?” I hiss in his direction.

“This is family,” Santo says while looking down at me with concern.

Plastering on a fake smile, I shove my anxiety aside. Fake it till you make it. I wasn’t ready for this kind of crowd. I’ve never enjoyed being around a bunch of people, unless I have time to prepare for them. Even when I go out dancing with Drew, I’m usually drinking, which helps calm my nerves. I could use a drink right now—like really use a drink.

A waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes. I eye it but don’t reach out to take one. I’m waiting for Santo’s cue. He hasn’t had a drop of alcohol. Maybe it’s a thing, like we’re not supposed to drink or something. It sounds stupid, but there is a lot I don’t know about his world.

“I’m just going to run to the bathroom,” I tell Santo.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“No, stay. I’ll be fine. Mingle with your family.” I slip out of his hold and practically run. I find the back door and sneak outside. I just need some fresh air.

“Not one for a party?” A voice has me jumping out of my damn skin. Spinning around, I see Vin leaning against the brick wall with a smoke pressed between his fingers.

“I’m not one for people—crowds really,” I attempt to explain. I take a step closer, and a puff of smoke tells me that’s no cigarette in his hand. He’s smoking weed. “You got another one of those?”

Vin raises an eyebrow at me and laughs. “Last time I got one of my sisters-in-law high, my brother was pissed at me for two months. If I let you smoke, Santo… Well, let’s just say he holds a grudge a lot fucking longer than Gabe. So, no. For you, I do not have another one of these.” Vin draws in a lungful of air.

“Santo won’t care.” I shrug.

“You really should get to know a person before you marry them,” Vin tells me. “Santo is the family’s enforcer. You do know what that means, right?”

“I can imagine.” I mean, the title doesn’t leave much room for interpretation.

“Yeah, whatever your imagination comes up with, times it by a hundred. That’s Santo. I, for one, do not want to be on his bad side.” Vin chuckles. “In saying that, if I happen to drop a joint while walking away, I can’t stop you from picking it up.” He doesn’t drop it, though. He hands it over to me.

“Right, you can’t help if I pick it up.” I’m not a stoner. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve smoked pot, but I do know it will help calm me down right now, and I need that.

“Why are you so nervous anyway?” Vin asks.

“Besides the fact that I’m at a party hosted by the De Bellis family? A mafia party?” I question him.

“Besides that.” Vin smirks.

“I don’t want to embarrass your brother,” I admit.

“You couldn’t. One thing you need to learn about being a De Bellis, we don’t give a fuck what others think about us. The only thing they need to be thinking or feeling is fear and respect. Anything else doesn’t matter,” Vin says. “You make him smile. Santo hasn’t smiled in a really long fucking time.” With that, the kid walks back inside, leaving me alone on the patio.