Page 8 of Heartless Sinner

“You can head out,” I told them.

Bruce dropped his foot, nodded, and they both left through the steel gate.

The stench of weed hung in the air when I unlocked my dorm and walked inside. I flipped on the lights and sat behind my desk.

This was my senior year at Saint Vale. After this, law school. A job at a top firm. Senate. Then the White House.

My fifteen-year plan.

After graduation, I’d become an Elder Son. I always hated how geriatric that sounded.

The Byrons had been Night Sons for generations. Enzo and the other Mafia heirs were new blood. Outsiders.

Bringing them in had been my father’s idea. According to him, we had men in power everywhere except one place.

Kings of the underworld.

Enter the Marchettis and Lombardis.

I pulled one of my law books toward me, flipped it open, then shut the fucking thing again.

Studying wasn’t an option when Daphne took over my brain.

Daphne Kenward had been a nuisance since she had moved to the States at fourteen and attached herself to my younger sister.

She talked too much. Asked too many questions. Used to poke my side when she passed me on the staircase.

Then she got older.

My sister’s irritating best friend stopped feeling so irritating. Or maybe she was still irritating. I just wanted to fuck her now.

I liked seeing her. Enjoyed her little pokes. Started noticing every fucking man who looked at her a little too long.

I tried to fight my attraction to her, but call me the Roman Empire because I always lost.

At night, I’d lie in bed, imagining her under me. Bent over in front of me. On top of me. Riding my cock. Moaning my name.

My entire life ran on optics, control, and strategy. Fucking my sister’s best friend fit none of those.

Still didn’t stop me from wanting her.

After I fucked her in the Oval Office, my obsession only got worse. Then her father tried to have mine killed. That should’ve put a bullet through the stupid fucking obsession, but it didn’t.

My mom and sister had forgiven Daphne and her mother. They claimed her father was the only one to blame.

Great for them. I’m not built to forgive.

When your father was the president of the United States, trust wasn’t something you handed out twice. In my experience, people either wanted to shake our hands or put a bullet through our heads.

I propped my foot up on my desk and scrolled through the latest headlines about myself. Most were bullshit.

One claimed I was secretly engaged to a senator’s daughter I’d never fucking met. When I got tired of reading lies about myself, I opened the secure Night Sons platform.

I logged in with my credentials, scanned my face, then entered my passcode. The second I was in, a notification popped up on my screen.

Fawn Prospect Chosen: Daphne Kenward.

I read her name again.