The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

Gianna pursed her lips and held out her hand again. Lorenzo sigh

ed, reached back into his jacket and dropped the rest of the bills in her palm.

“Thanks, Lo.” She spun on her heel to leave.

“Wait a minute,” I said.

She stopped in front of the door, her shoulders tensing.

“You’re not working here.”

She turned around, glaring at me. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a train wreck, that’s why. Once you can pass a drug test, then I’ll think about it. Return your uniform before you leave.”

I should have known not to give her a choice of who to marry after my papà passed. The capo was too old for the business, let alone to control Gianna. Which was undeniably the reason she’d chosen him.

Her smoky eyes went steely around the edges. “Fine.” And then, in classic Gianna fashion, she grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it off in one defiant swoop.

I gave my head a small shake, annoyance running through me.

Lorenzo rolled back so he could get a better look at her in only a black bra, thong, and heels. Ricardo whistled, and Jimmy chuckled before coughing on some smoke.

Gianna was hot, and she knew it. Even her tasteless style seemed to draw men in more than turn them away. But she’d been little more than a pain in my ass since my papà had died. And it looked like she was angry enough she was going to hurl her dress at my face.

“Try me,” I warned.

A frustrated noise escaped her. She chose the safest option and threw it on the floor, before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

Lorenzo let out a low whistle at the sight as she left.

With regret, her bare ass was making me think of another bare ass, and a rush of heat ran to my groin.

“Fork it over, Ricky,” Jimmy said, puffing on his cigar.

Ricardo tossed some cash across the table, before giving me a nod and leaving the room.

“You too, huh?” I asked.

The moment with Elena on my kitchen counter was starting to replay on a loop in my mind. Her little sounds, her smell—fuck, I needed to get laid.

Jimmy collected his money. “Who do ya think made the bet? It’s been going since your engagement party.”

I wasn’t even surprised I’d been that transparent.

I was another man pining after her.

Fuck me.

But she was mine now, whether I liked it or not. And I didn’t. She was fucking distracting. She had a body I wanted to bury myself in and never leave, and it was why I was forcing myself not to go home tonight. I had to have some control where that woman was concerned. Had already told myself I wouldn’t touch her until the wedding, just to prove to myself I could. But then she was in my space . . . and fuck, I couldn’t do it.

She’d barely stepped in my door before I had her naked on the kitchen counter.

The funny part of it—though arguably not funny at all—was that she didn’t want anything to do with me. I was hung up on this girl, badly, and she was in love with some other man. Something green burned through my veins like a lit wick, and I ran my hand across my jaw.

They’d killed the man she was with when she ran away, but they weren’t found in a compromising position and neither did the apartment belong to him. It was possible they killed the wrong man and her lover was still alive. At least, that’s what I heard through the grapevine, and regardless of how much I ached to, I wasn’t digging further.

I’d always considered my morals to be slightly lower than mediocre, but it was at this moment I knew I was far, far below redemption.