Vicious Sins (New York Sinners Series Book 1)

3| Money

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Money

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Chapter 3: Money (Amara's POV)

"Vincere non è tutto, Amara," Dad exhaled over the phone while I grabbed my blazer and tugged it on, pulling my hair out and tossing it over my shoulders. He says winning isn't everything, but how couldn't it be?

"Ma è," I argued, "of course it is, Dad. In our world, it most certainly is."

A gentle sigh escaped him, "Sometimes, I truly wonder if I went wrong somewhere, showing you too much of our world far too early."

I glanced at my phone as it sat on the bed. "Don't get so sentimental, Dad. That wasn't completely up to you." Turning around as I adjusted my clothes, I grabbed my phone and slipped into my heels, and took my purse. "I'm heading out now, augurami buona fortuna," I said, demanding that he wished me luck.

And he did, replying with, "Buona fortuna, mia figlia."

"I'll see you later, bye." Hanging up after his response and with one last look in the mirror to check the white pantsuit I wore, I moved to my door, only to stop immediately after. "Damn it," I mumbled, rushing to my nightstand and grabbing all the files required for today and then turning to my pillows, lifting Donna up from beneath one of them.

Scratching the top of her head and then tapping her little brown-tipped snout and gently flicking her ears that matched the brown of her nose, paws, and tail but contrasted the rest of her white coat. "Bye," I said before setting her back down on the bed and heading out with her meow echoing behind me.

Heading downstairs and into the elevator, I descended to the lobby and then out to get to my car. Double-checking the address given to me for this meeting by my client, I followed directions and drove to Mr. Banks' office.

I ensured that the location for this meeting suited my client more than our opponent and did whatever the hell it took to make sure our opponents agreed.

That was before I knew that the attorney I'd be going up against was Tristan Harper, quite literally the devil himself. Almost. If it wasn't for the fact that I could be far worse than him when it came down to it.

Tristan never failed to infuriate me and leave me absolutely enraged and over the years, I'd come to despise him to the point where I couldn't remember a time when he was tolerable.

Despite that, I was one of the only people in this world who got lucky enough to see Tristan Harper beg for mercy exactly three years ago and once I got a taste, I craved the sight of him begging for mercy one more time. Three years ago, Tristan landed himself in the worst situation possible. A murder case.

Believe it or not, he was being accused of a crime he didn't commit and that's not to say that Tristan Harper wasn't a murderer because he sure had his hands painted with blood. But the murder he was charged with was one he didn't commit. When everybody was too scared to step up and be his attorney and relished in his misery, he had no other options. He came to me.

Stupidly, I agreed and saved his ass from going to jail. Unfortunately for me, that only brought me to gunpoint, several times, might I add, and painted a target on my back that was double the size of what I already had.