Forgivable Sins (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 2)

My conversation with Samara's next-door neighbor earlier in the day had not gone well. I'd thought it would be easy enough to visit the woman and pry gently into the last few days of Samara's marriage. If there was nothing to hide, it should have been that simple. So the fact it had been anything but left me feeling restless and aggravated. She'd given me nothing.

Not a fucking thing.

Closed up like she guarded the most precious treasures along with Samara's secrets, and under different circumstances I would have appreciated the loyalty she showed my woman. Just not when that loyalty stood in my way.

The knock at the door sounded, and I turned away from the spreadsheet I was neglecting on my computer with my inability to focus. "Open." Enzo stepped in, closing it behind him. "What did you find?" I asked without preamble.

He sighed, dropping into the chair so suddenly I thought it might break under his weight. "Nothing. The woman doesn't have any skeletons in her closet that would make her dislike the Bellandi name."

"Then why the Hell wouldn't she talk to me?" I grunted, dropping my head forward to rub at my eyes.

"Did it occur to you that maybe you intimidated her? Walking up to her house in your suit and tie and looking like you own Chicago, throwing around the Bellandi name the way you did? From what I've seen, she's sharp as a tack." Enzo argued, amusement sparking in his face as he stared at my annoyance. Even with him though, hidden beneath the veneer of entertainment, I could see the gears turning.

He knew Samara vaguely. Knew of her more. Knew enough to know that if she was keeping secrets from me and Yavin, it had to be bad. "The woman didn't even blink when I told her I was a friend of Samara's. She knew damn well who I was before I introduced myself and was ready to slam the door in my face the second she laid eyes on me. What the fuck kind of trouble has Samara gotten herself into that she wouldn't come to me for help?"

The look of apprehension that crossed his face was completely terrifying. "Maybe she's not in trouble at all," he said hesitantly. "Have you considered that, you know, maybe she's dating someone and just isn't ready to have you and Yavin breathing down his neck?" I felt the snarl that graced my face, even before Enzo's uncomfortable chuckle filled the room.

I looked away from him, casting my gaze down to the crowd of people dancing. If I wanted, I could have gone down to the floor and had my pick of women to bring up and have my way with. But I didn't want that, because for the first time in my life, having Samara was a distinct possibility. If I'd been celibate for months on end and found out she'd been dating, I'd lock her up and throw away the key.

There was nothing that I would let stand in my way of claiming my woman finally.

No one.

Not even Samara herself.

"She's not dating," I said definitively. The alternative was just not worth considering. Because I wouldn't be responsible for what I would do if I had to go back to the knowledge that someone else had put his hands on my woman, and worse, that I'd allowed it in my desire to have her divorced before I made her mine.

Like a fucking idiot.

I decided at that moment that regardless of Samara's wishes, I would step into her divorce proceedings. A little poke to the right judge, and I'd owe a small favor. It would be entirely worth it to have Samara in my bed where she belonged. Where she'd always belonged.

"I just want you to be prepared for all the possibilities here. You're all ready to go charging in like a white knight and rescue her, but there could be another explanation," Enzo said carefully. He stood from the chair, rounding it and making his way to the door. The man was intuitive enough to know that his final blow would set me over the edge, that I wouldn't want to even look at him until the morning at the very least. "She could just not feel the same way."

"I'm no white knight," I huffed a laugh, even as rage built inside me. The woman had me turned inside out, and I hadn't even kissed her yet. Had never had the pleasure of feeling her lips on mine, and yet she'd had me wrapped around her finger since I'd been ten years old.

"I know that, but does she?" Enzo asked, and then he opened the door and disappeared through it, leaving me to my thoughts.

He left me with the agonizing thoughts about what expectations Samara might have about a relationship with me. She wasn't like Ivory, thankfully. I'd made no secret what the Bellandi family did, but she also knew that I ran the legitimate businesses and that her brother worked that side with me.

She probably did not understand that I wouldn’t just ask her on a date, had no clue I planned to insert myself in every facet of her life as soon as she was divorced. Likely the night the divorce was final. I was the one who first greeted her every morning, even though it meant setting my alarm for hours earlier than I needed to wake up. I was the one who snuggled with her on the couch when she had cramps and the one who rubbed her feet when she killed them wearing heels to work.

I was the one who took care of her, who sheltered her and encouraged her hopes and dreams.

Me. Not Connor.

Because she always had been, and she always would be mine.

No matter what a piece of paper said.

Seven

Samara

Lino’s oversized band tee hung nearly to my knees, the name of his favorite band stretched over my chest loosely. Having showered off the slimy feeling that the man from the Bird Lounge had left me with from only the simplest of nearly harmless touches, I couldn't wait to crawl into bed and sleep what remained of the night away.

But as I left my bathroom, toweling my hair dry as I walked, I thought I glimpsed light from the open doorway. Snatching my glasses off the nightstand quickly, I shoved them onto my face to confirm that I wasn't on edge and paranoid. I grabbed my phone in one hand, the bat I tucked under my bed in the other and crept into the hallway slowly.

As quietly as I could.