Beautiful Sinner

Beautiful Sinner Copyright © 2023 Sarah Sofiane All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Cover Designer: Lavande Art & Design Interior Designer: Champagne Book Design Editor: Bryony Leah TABLE OF CONTENTS TITLE PAGE PLAYLIST DEDICATION PART ONE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX PART TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE PART THREE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FORTY-NINE CHAPTER FIFTY CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR Listen Here The Arctic Monkeys—“Do I Wanna Know?” Gwen Stefani—“Serious” Justine Skye—“Collide” Nina Simone—“Take Care of Business” Michael Jackson—“Smooth Criminal” Nicky Jam—“X” Glass Animals—“Heat Waves” The Arctic Monkeys—“R U Mine?” Nine Inch Nails—“Closer” Ariana Grande—“Quit” Sade—“Smooth Operator” Rihanna—“Love on the Brain” Selena Gomez—“Bad Liar” Sevyn Streeter—“Taboo” Kelsey Lu—“I’m Not in Love” Warrant—“Cherry Pie” Kali Uchis—“Moonlight” Santana—“Smooth” Solomon Burke—“Cry to Me” For all the girls who thought they wanted Prince Charming but instead have an unexplainable pull to chaos—the type with rough hands, commanding words, and a destructive smile. “He’d always been a man who followed his head and not his heart. The heart was just a bloody motor. The head was meant to drive.” —Mario Puzo The night ended as predicted with Graziano Costa’s body plugged with bullets. Dollar bills exploded in the air along with shrapnel. Green and red intermingled with the cacophony of bullets and screams. The club was completely mirrored like a funhouse—not a good omen for Graziano as I could see him running into his office using the strippers as cover. Cazzone. The hinges snapped in surrender as I kicked the door open. Graziano cowered behind the desk, his phone in hand, face splotchy with sweat, and his expensive silk suit now engulfed by blood and perspiration. His bottom lip trembled. Graziano, like most assholes, had no spine. He thought because his father was a Made Man I would simply back down and forget he’d tried to cheat me. He was wrong. This wasn’t the first time some fuck had tried to underestimate me. I enjoyed the realization on their faces when it dawned on them it wasn’t a smart idea. He tried to reach for his gun, but the knuckleduster on my left hand saw to him before he could even get it out of safety. When he woke up a half hour later, tied to his desk with a gun to his head, he fainted again. My least favorite part of these things was the bartering. When they begged for their lives. Jesus Christ, this motherfucker even started crying. It was undignified. My lip curled in amusement as he promised he’d give me his girlfriend if I let him live. “Why do you think I’m here, Graziano?” I asked crisply. “I don’t know,” Graziano mumbled. “Graziano.” I stretched my neck from side to side, irritated. “The cocaine,” he whispered dejectedly. “What about the cocaine?” I smiled coldly. “It wasn’t pure.” My expression hardened as a bolt of anger flashed through me. “I swear I didn’t know! I will call my suppliers—” “You knew because when I called you up you started laughing and told me to speak to your father if I had a problem.” Graziano’s eyes widened as he realized I’d called his bluff. “I was just messing around . . . I respect you,” he pleaded. “Because I have a gun to your head,” I sneered. “Rocco, please, I’m begging you, man.” Graziano shook. Tears started to slip down his face. My finger pressed the trigger and the crying stopped as he fell to one side. I fired two more bullets: another in the head and one in the chest. This was a message, sent in the crudest way. An execution. “You ready?” Gianni, my cousin, walked in with one of my other men, Nicolò. “Just finishing up.” I wiped the gun. “What do you need those for?” Nicolò frowned as I picked up the folder titled “Accounts” on the desk. “Homework.” I smirked. “He pissed himself.” Gianni swore loudly as a pool of urine started to puddle under Graziano’s body. “Well, that just adds insult to injury. Take this and make sure it’s disposed of.” I handed the gun to Nicolò, who nodded, steering clear of Graziano’s bodily fluids as he took it. “You know this whole thing is gonna be a dumpster fire,” Gianni chuckled. “I’m looking forward to it.” I smiled coldly. I tended to thrive on the threat of conflict. If things were going too well I felt lethargic, and that didn’t sit well with me. “The Bible says God only looks after children and fools, Rocco. Which one are you?” Papá had asked me one night, either drunk or high. He had on a shirt and tie but no pants and was using an empty bottle of Jim Bean as a microphone. The only friends he seemed to have left were Jim Bean, Johnnie Walker, and Jack Daniels. Did it even say that in the Bible? He used one he’d snagged from a hotel as a flat surface on which to cut cocaine lines, but I didn’t think that counted. He wasn’t exactly known as a man of God either; the other families had politely asked us not to come to church