Tempted by the Sinner

She stared at the money then up at me. “Wait, really?”

“Sorry,” I said. “We’ll talk again soon.”

She chewed her lip again, that cute as hell habit, then nodded.

“Right. And you’ll think about that profile,” she said.

I smirked at her, slipped my wallet back in my pants, and let her catch a glimpse of the gun I kept in my shoulder holster. I saw her eyes go wide, and I wondered if she really wanted to do a profile on me, or if she was just attracted to what I represented.

Danger, excitement, the gritty side of life.

She had no fucking clue what I was.

“See you soon,” I said then turned and walked away.

Doing a profile was a bad idea. Spending more time with that girl was definitely a bad idea.

But I was intrigued. I didn’t have to do anything important, didn’t have to show her anything major. I could always drag her around a little bit, show her some spots I used to hang out at, introduce her to some of the guys in the family.

I could give her a little taste, just to wet her lips, and then take what I wanted from her, slowly and for a long, long time.

I smiled as I pictured her stripped and bare, her long dark hair covering her breasts, her mouth hanging open in pure ecstasy.4VinceThe room was draped in velvet and smelled like an old man’s locker at a YMCA, all spice and aftershave. I ignored the bookshelves stuffed with leather-bound tomes, ignored the expensive paintings hanging on the walls, the files strewn about almost casually on top of real mahogany tables, and pulled out a seat next to my father at the conference room table.

He gave me a flat stare. I could tell it was his unhappy face, but he didn’t say anything right away. I took out my phone and studiously pretended to ignore him while still getting a feel for the vibe in the room.

Tad and Roberto stood against the far wall, both of them wearing black. Roberto had on a turtleneck, and his bald head gleamed in the lamplight. Tad fidgeted side to side and I wondered if the skinny, former junky was using again, but it didn’t matter. Both men were armed and intensely loyal to my father, and really that’s all they were good for anyway.

“You’re late,” my father said.

I looked up from my phone. “I had a meeting,” I said.

He frowned. “Who do you need to meet with here?” he asked.

“Journalist,” I said.

He snorted. “Right. If you’re not going to take this seriously, I won’t bother waiting for you next time.”

I made a little gesture and put my phone face-down on the table.

“Where’s Maksim?” I asked.

“On his way.” Father looked away, over toward the window. If there was one thing he hated even more than his son being late, it was his rival being late.

Don Leone looked like he’d aged five years since I last saw him. He was seventy now, though still spry, despite the fake cane he used to hobble around with. He had on a cardigan and a pair of simple, comfortable khaki pants, and he looked like any old grandfather hanging around in a South Philly stoop.

But my father was no ordinary man. He was Don Leone, head of the powerful Leone Crime Family. I grew up with this man, was raised by him, molded by him, shaped into the piece of shit monster I’d become. We hadn’t gotten along in years, maybe never had, and I suspect he sent me up to New York to establish our family there just as a way to get me out of his hair.

Worked just fine for me.

“Tell me again why you’re doing this?” I asked, just to get under his skin.

“I’m not going over my plants with you again,” he said.

“Humor me. The Russian isn’t here yet.”

He rubbed his face and sighed. I saw Roberto frowning at me, annoyed that I was needling my old man again. Roberto was the most loyal man in the whole Familia, and I was willing to bet the man would gladly give his life for the Don.

Though certainly not for the Don’s son.

“The Russians are weak,” he said. “Maksim is barely holding on to power. His son is disgraced and living in Chicago. His top men are beginning to push back against his authority. I believe it’s time to create an alliance, one which benefits us both and cements our power over the city.”

I nodded and spun my phone on the table. It annoyed my father to no end, and I could tell all he wanted to do was reach forward and snatch it away.

In NYC, I never would’ve been so openly hostile. I was a professional when I did my business, even when I had to sit down for meetings with men I didn’t particularly care for. That’s how I took the Leone Family from just one small regional Philadelphia power, and gave us a solid foothold in the biggest city in the country.