Page 20 of Liberated By Sin

It was…sadness.

I was unsure what exactly it was about him that triggered memories of my brothers, but the room was suddenly suffocating, and I needed air.

Taking a step back, I nodded, intending to maneuver around him, and he responded by making himself bigger and blocking my path.

I sucked in a breath and clenched my fingers, nails digging into my palms to suppress the urge to reach for my knife.

“You must be Amara,” he said, extending his hand. His accent reminded me of Lorenzo’s.

“I am,” I replied and ignored his gesture.

The man’s dark eyes lingered on mine before they shifted behind me. “And you and I already met. Cambri, was it?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied enthusiastically, reaching for the hand he’d yet to offer and shook it with vigor, nonetheless.

He chuckled. “Call me Santino.”

While his ask was in response to Cambri, his eyes were back on me.

“Santino Leone. I’m taking over now that my uncle, Lorenzo, is no longer with us. And Luca is on a permanent leave.”

“Welcome.”

I caught the twitch in his eye at my indifference. If he thought I was one of those women impressed by angled jawlines, a pretty face, and status, he’d soon learn how far from the truth that assumption was. Santino, our new boss, was Lorenzo Leone’s nephew. I surveyed histowering figure and crisp, tailored suit, then back to his face, just in time to catch the way he wet his lips.

And maybe, just maybe, the action caused me to swallow a little harder than I intended.

I put another step between us.

“Thank you.”

“Amara, I’ll grab my stuff and meet you outside!” Cambri slipped through the gap between our bodies. “It was great to meet you, sir—Santino,” she added before disappearing down the corridor.

I made a mental note to murder her in her sleep.

Santino leaned against the door frame, one hand strategically rubbing the perfectly trimmed facial hair along his chin. It was all it took not to roll my eyes. Sure, he looked smooth and better than any man had a right to at 2 a.m. Meanwhile, I’d wiped the makeup off my face, swirled my hair into a bun, and changed into bike shorts and an oversized T-shirt. If I gave a damn, I’d probably feel self-conscious, but the part of me that cared about a man’s opinion had died a long time ago.

“You were great out there.”

This time, the eye roll was inevitable. “I’m sure I was,” I said with a cynical laugh, walking past him and into the hallway.

Santino followed—of course—falling in step with me.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that it was a great performance. I can see why this place is such a success.”

“I don’t carry this club on my own,Santino. All the dancers here keep a loyal roster of Miami’s wealthiest clientèle.”

“Gorgeous and humble. Impressive.”

I came to an abrupt stop. It took him two steps before he noticed and backtracked.

“Look, I’m not the one. You may be Lorenzo’s nephew and the owner, but don’t think because I’m a dancer here that I’m just going to drop to my knees and suck your cock because of your last name.”

Fuck. Forgot my filter. Not exactly the most innovative way to start this working relationship.

I was half-expecting him to lash out and fire me until the most aggravating and unexpected grin crawled across his face.

“Noted.”