Envy (Criminal Sins 1)

As if I’d get far...

The scintillating night breeze washes over me like a heavenly wave.

I swear I hear birds chirping and cicadas singing through the rush of passing cars as I take in my first deep breath of fresh air in far too long.

“You look good,” Angel’s voice makes me jump. He didn’t wait around for me to get changed, and I was chauffeured downstairs by a pair of security guards. The entire time, I was half expecting Dante to jump out of the shadows and ruin my small taste of freedom.

But here I am, in an elegant red dress, backless and with a low necklin

e, standing outside, finally—and with enough exposed skin that I can really appreciate the perfect weather.

“Uh, thanks,” I say. I’m about to compliment him back—he looks damn fine as well, after all—but, at the last second, I decide against it. I don’t want him thinking that I want to stick around, for any reason...

Angel brushes by me and opens the passenger door of a sleek black range rover. “If you wouldn’t mind,” he nods, gesturing inside.

His politeness is jarring, but I comply. The inside of the car smells new and the plush leather seat welcomes me with open arms.

“No motorcycle tonight?” I mention, almost just thinking out loud.

Angel shrugs. “Thought I might give you a break.” He slams the door shut and I watch him with curiosity as he makes his way around the hood.

I’m actually a little disappointed. Sure, the dress I’m wearing isn’t exactly an appropriate motorcycle riding outfit, but the idea of having a strong wind blowing back my hair seems rapturous compared to the stale indoor air I’ve been subjected to in captivity.

I click down my window as we pull out onto the street. A calm breeze lifts my hair and massages my lightly powdered face. It wasn’t like Angel gave me much time to get ready, but I did a decent job, I think—at least, I did a good enough job to get a compliment from Angel himself, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who passes those out so easily.

“Where are we going?” I ask, hardly caring. I’m outside, that’s all that matters.

“Dinner,” Angel replies, turning a corner. We come to a stop at a red light.

“Dinner sounds good,” I lie. I’ve been stuffing myself full of homemade food for the past four days, and it’s barely been two hours since my last meal, but there’s no way I’m saying no to anything that involves being away from that stuffy penthouse prison. “What’s the place called?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Angel notes.

I’m too happy to be outside to bite back, but I do nonchalantly check to see if my door is unlocked.

Before I can tell, the light turns green and Angel crushes the accelerator. I’m pinned against my seat as we take advantage of the open road before us. It doesn’t last long, we’re downtown after all, but it gives me a good sense of what I’m dealing with.

Angel is restless, and that’s not great news for me... but he also doesn’t seem to be in a particularly sour mood.

What’s his game?

It’s a question I haven’t been able to stop asking myself since he forced his way into my life. At least the author of his puff piece got one thing right in his headline, Angel is definitely mysterious.

Could he possibly be a billionaire, too?

As if that’d make any difference to me. I may have been an attempted social climber before all this shit went down, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past week, it’s that money can only go so far. Sure, I knew that before—I’ve experienced both extremes in my life, even if only briefly—but my goal has always been to reclaim my lost spot in high society, or whatever the criminal underworld equivalent of that is.

But being trapped under the thumb of a handsome billionaire capo has made it clear that a goal like that isn’t anything to aspire to. Anyone can get trapped in a lucrative life of crime or servitude; the only thing that might make it worthwhile is if you care about those you’re trapped with.

My friend Marcela was always so nice to be around, no matter how poor we were, and being stuck with Angel has made it clear to me that I’d rather be free and broke than caged and rich.

Before the gala that changed everything, I wasn’t so sure that was the case—a nice enough ring from a decent enough guy might have been enough to sway me into captivity—but now that I’ve been forcefully caged, it’s glaringly clear that it’s no life for me. If I’m ever going to recapture that life that was stolen from me as a little girl, it will have to be on my own terms, with people I consider as close as my family.

Oh, Marcela. I miss her so much. She must be worried sick about me by now. I just hope my disappearance isn’t causing her too much pain...

Angel slows down on a quiet street and before I can get a good look at where we are, I’m accosted by a sudden flurry of bright flashing lights. I flinch away from my open window and the dark tinted glass quickly slides closed. I hear the click of it locking in place.

“Here,” Angel announces. I blink back into focus and look outside. Just up ahead, hordes of camera wielding paparazzi are crowded around the slick black façade of a classy looking restaurant.