By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers #3)(37)

So some random French guy was good enough? But I wasn’t? What the fuck?

As if Valentina could read my thoughts, she continued unfazed. “Any boy she meets here, will be forgotten once she’s back in Chicago, but you’ll be around and that’s a catastrophe about to happen. I want your word that you won’t touch Anna and that you’ll let me know if she tries anything so I can either send her a new bodyguard or bring her back home.”

I sighed. “I promise.”

Anna wasn’t the only good liar because deep down I knew I wouldn’t give Valentina that call no matter what happened.





Valentina disappeared in the security check area and Anna turned to me with a serene smile that set my alarm bells off.

“Don’t try anything, or I’ll call your father even if it costs me my job.”

She smiled in that innocent way that didn’t fool me anymore. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The fuck she didn’t. This girl had trouble written all over her. When she settled on the passenger seat in our rental car, I half expected her to try something as I drove us home, but she surprised me by glancing out the window almost contemplatively.

Maybe she had finally accepted that we couldn’t happen. It was a little disconcerting that I didn’t feel the elation that I should.

“We should consider giving back the car and renting a Vespa instead. We could weave through traffic and not get stuck in it,” she said when we’d been crawling through Parisian traffic for almost an hour.

I followed her gaze toward a mint-colored Vespa. The guy driving the thing wore a matching helmet and tight pants that accentuated long lean legs that would make most girls jealous. “I’m not metrosexual enough for that.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Being manly isn’t linked to what vehicle you drive. It’s a practical choice.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You’d be surprised how much fun you could have doing the unexpected.”





Part of me was sad when Mom left Paris seven days after our arrival, but she was needed back in Chicago. But the other part was eager to finally experience the city on my own terms and be alone with Santino.

He’d probably have preferred if my mom had stayed. He knew all bets would be off once we were alone, and he was worried. For good reason. His control was slipping, and I’d make sure to crash through it like a wrecking ball.

But first I wanted to enjoy Paris on my own terms, really soak everything in. For the first time in my life, I was so far away from home without my parents, without the pressure of being a Capo’s daughter resting on my shoulders. Santino knew my flaws. He certainly didn’t expect me to act like the good girl everyone expected me to be—he knew I wasn’t. I could be good, but sometimes I just wanted to be bad, to enjoy life more than I should, to do all the things I wasn’t supposed to do. One of them was of course Santino, but Paris first.

“Let’s go out tonight. Fancy dinner, then drinks and a club afterward. I want to celebrate,” I said the moment we stepped into our apartment.

Santino’s expression didn’t exude excitement. If he realized how sexy the grim set of his jaw made him, he’d probably try to smile more often around me.

“Come on,” I said with a grin. “You’ve had to be on your best behavior while my mom was here, don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy a night out.”

“You’re overlooking something. I’ll have to watch you.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’ll have fun.”

Santino heaved a sigh but then he nodded. To be honest, I’d expected more resistance from him. Either he was glad to be out in public with me or he really needed a bit of a break. No matter the reason, I was super excited. I pushed to my tiptoes and threw my arms around Santino’s neck. “Thank you! I promise I’ll behave!”

It felt good to be so close to him, especially as he didn’t immediately try to push me off. When he grew tense, I pulled back.





A few hours later, I emerged from the bathroom, ready for the night, dressed in black hot pants and a short form-fitting black blazer with big golden buttons that made it look like a naval uniform. Beneath it, I wore a white bandeau top with narrow sleeves that left my shoulders bare. To make the look perfect, I wore a cute bonnet that rounded off the sailor look. Golden stilettos matching my buttons were the icing on the cake.

Santino’s eyebrows rose when he spotted me. “When are we setting sail?”

I turned around myself to show him the look, knowing my butt looked spectacular in the hot pants. “I’m not someone who wants to follow a trend. I want to be the person who creates a trend. Clothes are more for me than a cover for my body. I want my looks to make a statement. They are a way to express myself.”

“And you’re trying to express your interest in hooking up with a sailor and live on a boat?”

Santino stood. He’d put an effort into his clothes too. The black chinos ended above his ankle and created a nice contrast to his white sneakers. Thankfully, he was wearing sneaker socks like any person with a hint of fashion sense did. The white simple shirt hugged his muscled chest in a very pleasing way and his jacket just made it perfect.

“You can swear like a sailor,” I said with a shrug. “Maybe it’s a message for you.”