Sinful Temptation: An Age Gap Mafia Romance by Poppy St. John

Author:Poppy St. John [St. John, Poppy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Petal and Thorn Books
Published: 2023-07-24T23:00:00+00:00

7

NINA

Start with plié second position pulses to warm up those muscles. Straight back… good form… fifteen more seconds… the smiling girl with a high ponytail said from my phone screen, performing the movement seamlessly as she rattled off instructions for the viewers.

I followed her lead, moving my body into the familiar, yet seldom practiced pose, my muscles barely holding up after too long left untrained.

My muscles heated to the point of aching as I panted to catch my breath. Two years ago I could practice half the day with no problem. Now, a couple of pliés had me sweating.

Pathetic.

I pushed past the embarrassment of having let my fitness get so bad and continued with the routine from DanceGurlZoe on YouTube.

Seven minutes into the thirteen-minute-long video, my phone rang, vibrating against the makeshift tripod I made using books balanced on the bed.

I frowned at the unfamiliar string of digits, picking up if only to have the excuse to pause the slaughter of my leg muscles for a few brief moments.

A robotic voice told me the call was coming from Washington Women’s Correctional Center. I gasped, clutching the phone tighter.

“I accept!” I all but shouted down the line.

“Penny?” I asked the instant the call clicked through. “Penny? Penny?”

“Oh my God, Nina?”

I laughed. I laughed so hard that tears gathered at the corners of my eyes and started spilling out. I sunk to the ground, clutching the phone in both hands. Penny squealed frantically on the other end of the line, matching my enthusiasm.

“Girl, you’re alive!” she hooted. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried. When I got the note with this new number to reach you I came straight down to call. How are you? Do you miss me?”

I croaked a watery laugh. “You have no idea.”

“Well, if you miss me so much, what’s stopping you from coming back?”

I laughed again, hard enough to hurt my already tender ribs. Her Boston accent cut right through the background noise of the dayroom where I knew she was sitting talking to me.

“Do you know what? That isn’t even a bad idea,” I allowed, looking down at my hands. My nails had been manicured. Not a prison manicure. A real one, done by the actual nail tech that Alexei called to the house. Part of the team he had assembled to get me ready to meet my future husband, Matteo.

When I was inside, the chance to get my hair done professionally, to wear something that didn’t feel like sandpaper against my skin, and go on a date with a hot guy seemed like the absolute height of luxury.

I ran my thumb nail over the hard gel polish on the nail of my ring finger. Red. My brother picked the color. He said it was a color that men liked, and I needed to make a good impression on Matteo.

“Don’t you dare. I was joking,” she said with a laugh.

“I wasn’t.”

The line went silent for several heavy moments.

“What’s up, girl?” she asked, her tone conveying concern.

My eyes swept

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