Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

1. Delilah

ONE

DELILAH

FOUR WEEKS EARLIER

I sat on a barstool, my gaze glued to a man I’d only heard rumors about. I wasn’t the type to stalk a man. It felt weird, but my situation called for desperate measures. Men hunted women all the time. At least I wasn’t planning to hurt him.

Santino Costa had no idea I’d been watching him for the past hour. From his corner of the VIP section, he lounged in a chair, his drink barely touched. His face was hard to make out in the dim club light, but his magnetic presence lured more than one woman to his table. His bodyguards hung around him, radiating menace.

“Need a refill?” asked the redheaded bartender.

“Yeah, please.”

I pushed my empty glass toward her, looking away from Santino as a girl my age prepared another vodka on the rocks.

“Do you know Santino Costa?”

She smiled. “A little.”

“You dated him?”

“He doesn’t date. Just flings. Which worked for me until it didn’t.” She sighed and garnished the cocktail, sliding it in front of me. “He wasn’t interested in taking things further, so I moved on.”

“So, he’s a player.”

The bartender leaned in, her red curls spilling over her shoulder. “Player is putting it nicely. He doesn’t take no for an answer. Knows what he wants and gets it. If you want a serious relationship, I’d keep my distance.”

“What does he want?”

A pitying smile spread across her face. “A girl to call his for a while. He’ll make you feel like the only woman in the world but by sunrise? You’ll be yesterday’s news.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy.”

She arched a brow.

I wasn’t after love, just a man dangerous enough to protect me from my fiancé. I’d spent weeks studying the Costas, no easy feat considering they were the most powerful mafia family in Boston. I’d done my homework, weeding out the married guys first. I had no interest in becoming anyone’s side piece. Then I sorted through the single ones by rank and status. I hated it, but I had no other way out.

“What do you think he’d say if I asked him for a favor?”

Her brows shot up. “Depends on what it is. But trust me, nothing comes free with Santino.”

Not surprising. I’d grown up around men like him. They never gave without expecting something in return, and the price was always steep. But if I was going to survive, I had to be willing to pay. Staying with Dimitri was no longer an option.

I glanced at the broad-shouldered silhouette bathed in shadows. I had to make my move soon.

Glasses clinked as the bartender loaded a dishwasher. She closed the door, the snap jolting through me. Her wary gaze settled on mine again.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re planning, but be careful. He isn’t easy to walk away from.”

I forced a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Walking away was the least of my problems.

I took out my phone, scanning the list of missed calls from one number. Dimitri was supposed to be at a poker game with his friends. He must’ve found out I’d ditched my guards because he’d left me a string of colorful messages.

Dimitri

Did you forget who you belong to?

Don’t make me come find you.

This is your last warning.

Just wait until you get home.

I rolled my eyes and paid for my drink. Soon, I wouldn’t have to deal with this asshole. My fingers shot off a quick text, and I slid off the barstool and headed for the exit.

I drove back to Providence.

I lived in a duplex owned by Dimitri. Months ago, I’d moved in with my father’s encouragement. The ceilings were low and it was thirteen hundred square feet, small compared to my father’s mansion. Barely any sunlight touched the dreary walls. It felt like a dungeon.

Ivan, one of my fiancé’s henchmen, waited in the driveway. He bristled when I got out of the car. It probably stung that I’d outsmarted him again. I hurried past him and approached the front door. I dug out my keys and unlocked it.

Pushing it open, I stepped inside. My heart thudded as my gaze swept over Dimitri’s bland furniture. My breathing hitched as I dropped my purse onto the kitchen counter and dashed into the living room.

Oh no.

Racks of clothes I’d collected over the years—sourced from estate sales, thrift shops, and online auctions—were ripped to shreds.

All of it.

Metal stands and hangers were scattered on the floor. My hands shook as I kneeled, running my fingers over strips of ruined fabric. The air smelled faintly of something burnt. My throat tightened.

I rushed to the bedroom, praying he hadn’t destroyed everything . I threw open the closet door, choking back a cry. The shelves holding boxes of carefully preserved vintage fabrics, accessories, and handbags were bare. Only a few tattered pieces lay in the corner, half crumpled as though he hadn’t cared enough to finish his destruction.

A deep anger settled in my chest. The hours I’d spent building this collection, dreaming of my boutique, my escape, my future—all of it, gone in one vicious sweep.

And I couldn’t do anything about it.

Because I’d agreed to marry Dimitri.

It had always been about pleasing the Pakhan of the Bratva. My father had orchestrated this engagement like a business deal. He made it sound like an honor. Marrying Dimitri would keep the family strong, reinforce alliances, and cement my place in the organization. I’d only said yes to please my father.

But I hated Dimitri.

I hated the way he looked at me. How he flaunted me to his friends but never respected me behind closed doors. How he used my father’s power as a leash.

The door creaked, and footsteps clicked over the hardwood floors. Dimitri walked in, wearing a smug smile. Dressed in a tailored suit, he didn’t bother looking at the mess he’d created. His cold eyes shot at me.

“You’re home,” he said, as if he hadn’t just demolished everything that mattered to me.

“What did you do?” My voice cracked, but I stood up.

“I did us both a favor. This—” he gestured lazily to the empty racks, “was a distraction.”

“A distraction ?”

“You’ve spent more time on this bullshit than on your fiancé.”

Heat bubbled in my throat. “This was my collection. It was my future. My boutique?—”

His mouth twisted, and he waved his hand. “Drop the little girl dreams and start acting like a woman. Your only job is being my wife.”

His venomous words were wrapped in velvet. He always made his control sound so reasonable, but he destroyed anything that gave me independence. He wanted me to rely on him.

So did my father.

Dimitri is perfect for you. He is a very strong man, he’d said months ago. You’ll learn to be grateful for that. You’re not some American girl who gets to run wild, Delilah. You marry for the family. Dimitri knows how to keep his house in order, and you will be part of that.

My father respected men like Dimitri, who saw love as something to conquer. A good husband wasn’t measured by kindness but by how well he controlled his wife. Turning me into a demure Bratva wife had been my father’s plan for years, but I’d never been the obedient type. I fooled myself into thinking I could embrace it, hoping to buy a fraction of my father’s love. It was a terrible mistake I couldn’t take back.

Dimitri stepped closer. “You didn’t think I’d let you go through with that ridiculous little shop, did you?”

“I never asked for your permission .”

His lips curved. “I don’t need you to ask. I make the decisions now.”

“You don’t decide anything for me!”

“The sooner you accept that I’m in charge, the better off you’ll be.”

“These were one of a kind. Irreplaceable .”

“Maybe next time you’ll answer my calls.”

My eyes burned. “You had no right. They were mine.”

“Nothing is yours,” he said smoothly. “Not the slutty clothes you wear. Not even you . Don’t forget that, kotyonok .”

I fucking hated him.

Dimitri smiled. “You’ll thank me later.”

He patted my cheek and left the room.

I stood in the wreckage of my dreams, my stomach boiling. The tears I held back dissolved. Dimitri thought he’d won, that he’d crushed me, but he was so wrong. Destroying my boutique didn’t break me—it only lit a fire.

I couldn’t live like this. He would strip me of everything I cared about. I needed to escape, and I knew exactly how.

Santino Costa.

He wasn’t a good man either, but he could free me from Dimitri’s grip. Tomorrow night, I’d go to him. I didn’t care what I had to do. Santino was my way out, and I’d trade my soul to take it.

I’d turn into a woman he liked—beautiful, willing, and in need of something only he could provide. Then I’d offer him the one thing he couldn’t resist:

Me.