Sins

by Lee, Nadia

  He blinks, a picture of innocence. “Still haven’t reconciled?”

  “Wouldn’t you know if we had?” He received funds from Mother as late as last month. Harry bitched about it because apparently she was in a horrible mood afterward and called him for some cheering up.

  It’s laughable how obvious this ploy to distract me is. Seven years ago, Sam might have succeeded. But I’m not a young man floundering in grief anymore. I’m older, more experienced, with a war chest big enough to destroy the petty fortune he’s built. And just monstrous enough to do it if he doesn’t watch himself.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Iris

  The reception is much fancier and classier than I thought. Food and wine flow, served on silver trays carried by waiters in crisp livery. The glitzy ballroom is full of people decked out in their best outfits—exquisitely tailored tuxes and dresses, glittering jewels and watches, and fine shoes that cost more than most people make in a year. I almost wish I hadn’t returned the ice-blue Ferragamo dress Sam sent yesterday. I’m in a simple merlot-colored cocktail dress with spaghetti straps. I remind myself that the cut of the dress is classic, and no one knows I found it on sale last year in Prague.

  More to the point, no one cares. They’re here to dine and wine on Sam’s tab.

  After finishing the Debussy and Mozart I prepared, I step away to take a short break. Sam thinks I should play the entire time, but I’m not a machine.

  I take a glass of white wine from a passing tray and move to a corner. Small excitement sparks in my belly as I think back on my performance. My hands shook a little in the beginning, but I was able to maintain my composure. I didn’t make any mistakes, and easily played everything at tempo.

  And…I actually felt pretty good sitting there.

  Does this mean I might not panic if an audience focuses on me? I’ll have to find a way to test that theory. Maybe Julie can help. God, I wish she were here with me right now so we could talk about it. She thinks it’s a bummer I can’t play before a crowd. If my heart will just quit beating like it’s about to choke me, I might be able to have a career as a musician. Anxious excitement fills me, and I can’t stand still anymore. I start pacing in a small circle, staring at nothing as I try to think.

  Have to calm down, though. Who knows when I’ll be able to test the theory and see how my nerves hold up at a recital? Until I can, I need to maintain my course: stay in L.A. and get a job.

  A guy suddenly appears in front of me. “There you are! Can you help me?”

  I look up and see one of the men Sam introduced me to when I arrived. It takes a moment to recall his name… Jamie Thornton. A potential investor in Sam’s next big development. He shook my hand while politely flattering me about how pretty I looked. Afterward, Sam whispered that Thornton was important and asked me to be extra nice to him. I’m not sure what I can do for him, though. I’m not prepared to take requests.

  “What do you need help with, Mr. Thornton?”

  “Jamie. I insist.” He beams at me, revealing a row of straight white teeth. An attractive man in his mid-thirties. High forehead. Carefully trimmed and shaped brown eyebrows above deep-set brown eyes. His nose is a tad too long, the lips a tad too thin, but they don’t detract. Still, I don’t care for him. He has a disturbing way of looking at me, letting his gaze linger over my bared shoulders and my breasts, half a beat too long to be polite, but not so long that it veers into creeptastic territory.

  And I hate that he’s so…ambiguous on the creep-meter. Guys should be one way or the other.

  “I think I lost my phone,” he explains finally.

  “Did you check with the front desk and concierge?” Why is he talking to me about this?

  “They didn’t have it. They said they’d look, but…” His sigh says he has no confidence in them.

  “Where did you lose it?”

  “In the courtyard, I think. I was texting out there, and then…” He slaps his pockets, then raises his hands in a helpless gesture. “I have to find it. It has all my data.”

  “I understand.” I’d be beside myself if I’d lost mine. It has all my contacts, texts, emails, photos…everything. But Jamie evidently wants more than just sympathy. He’s looking at me way too expectantly. “Would you…”

  I didn’t want to do anything except just rest a few moments before returning to the piano, but Sam did ask me to be nice. And if he hears that I didn’t help, he’ll be upset. Last thing I want is to disturb the truce we established yesterday. Although Sam can be autocratic, he has done everything he thought would be best for me since the accident, regardless of the cost. I owe him. “Sure, I’ll help you look.”

  We walk through one of several French doors leading to the dark courtyard. It’s lush with a sweet-smelling lawn, every blade cut with military precision, lively shrubs and night-blooming flowers.

  Jamie leads me to a spot underneath a tree, far from the ballroom and off the main path.

  “So this is where you lost it?” I ask, looking around on the ground.

  “Yeah, I think so. This is the last place I used it. I was texting my assistant.”

  The small faux candles around the area don’t provide enough illumination to locate his phone on the ground. I start to reach into my clutch to grab mine.

  Suddenly Jamie’s arm wraps around my waist, and he pulls me toward him. My clutch falls from my grasp. Before I can recover my balance, his mouth crushes mine.

  The whiskey on his breath overwhelms me; his tongue is a slimy slug against my lips. Chills spread through my body. I clench my jaw and jerk my head away. “No!”

  “Come on,” he says, one hand gliding over my butt, then trying to slip under my skirt. The other is pulling on my shoulder straps. “We both know what you really want.”

  Oh my God! Terror and outrage roughen my breathing. Shaking, I twist, trying to get away. I have to make this bastard stop. “Cut it out before I—”

  I don’t get to finish.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Anthony

  I wrench the son of a bitch off Iris. Thornton hollers, “What the fu—”

  My fist lands in his face. Blood spurts from his nose and a killing rage roars through me, along with the cold knowledge that I was too late to stop the bastard from hurting her.

  Just like I was too late to save Katherine from bleeding out.

  Just like I was too late to prevent Caleb from touching Ivy.

  Just like I was too late to save Ivy from dying.

  I tried to reach Iris when she stepped away from the piano. But a business acquaintance stopped me to chat, and Jamie Thornton led her away.

  I only listened halfheartedly, my gaze tracking the two as they headed toward the garden. I had no clue why he led her outside, but if I had, I would’ve walked away from my acquaintance, manners be damned.

  I sweep Jamie’s feet out from under him, dropping him to the ground. My foot strikes his soft belly, chest and ribs with cold, ruthless precision. Thornton curls up, moaning pathetically, but it doesn’t help. I’ve had years of kickboxing training, and he doesn’t even know how to cover up properly.

  “Stop!” he begs, putting a hand out. I break his middle finger with a vicious twist. It’s the finger he used to break the strap on her dress. Jamie howls.

  “Come on,” I say. “We both know what you really want.”

  “She was just playing hard to get,” Jamie whines. “Look at her dress. The bitch was asking for it.”

  Fucking bastard. Always blaming women. “And look at the way you behaved. You’re asking for it.” I deliver another brutal kick.

  Jamie mewls and sobs, tries to crawl away. His face is glistening with tears, snot and blood.

  “Oh no, you aren’t getting away this easy.” I follow him, looming. “A parasite like you doesn’t deserve to live. The world will be better without you in it.” I pull him up and punch his face a few more times until it’s a complete mess. Then I drop him.

  He collapses lik
e a rag doll, but I know he hasn’t passed out. I’ve been very careful to keep him conscious. He needs to feel every bit of pain.

  “Stop it, you’re going to kill him! Do you want to go to jail for murder?”

  Everything inside me goes still. It’s the same thing Ivy said when I beat the shit out of Caleb. The sound of my breathing’s too loud as I slowly turn and face her.

  She catches her breath. “You… You’re the guy from Hammers and Strings.”

  “What did you say?” I take a step toward her.

  She retreats a step, licking her lip nervously. “I said we met at Hammers and Strings.”

  Another step. “Before that.”

  “Um. That you were going to kill him?”

  “Why?”

  She stares at me, half wary, half confused. “You were beating him pretty hard. You know people can die from getting beaten up, right?”

  “Is that all?” I say, continuing to approach.

  “He’s a creep, but not a deserve-to-die creep.” The heel of her shoe gets caught in a crack, and she loses her balance.

  I jump forward and wrap an arm around her waist before she can fall.

  I can feel shivers running through her, smell the scent of tiger lilies. There’s still that same mole on her face.

  Jesus. I’m either going mad or this really is Ivy.

  You have enemies who would love to break you, Tony, Edgar’s voice of reason says in my head.

  “I’m okay now,” she whispers.

  “How can you be all right?” I almost snarl, furious she’s trying to brush it off like nothing when I’m still burning with rage.

  “Let go.” This time, she’s firmer, her muscles tensing as though she’s getting ready to fight.

  I pull away, realizing she needs to have some control of the situation, and me snarling at her isn’t helping. She’s shaking.

  Then she finally realizes a third of her bodice is drooping forward from the broken strap. She curses under her breath and holds it up, one arm crossed over her chest like a shield, her gaze alive with an animal wariness.

  The look in her eyes puts shards of pain into my heart because it proves Edgar’s right. She isn’t Ivy, no matter what my heart wants to believe. Ivy wouldn’t have stared at me this way. She would’ve let me hold her, comfort her, take care of her. She would’ve let me shield her because she knew I’d protect her, no matter how badly I screwed up everything else.

  I shrug out of my jacket and put it over her, pulling the lapels together. Then, very deliberately, I imagine myself getting a hold on my emotions, pushing them into a box and putting a lid on it. Because right now, Iris needs to be looked after. I can deal with my own feelings later.

  * * *

  Iris

  The jacket’s warm from his body. His scent envelops me, and the fine hair at the back of my neck rises, my skin prickling. I clutch the lapels tightly, pulling them closer. I’m thankful for the cover the jacket gives me and touched by the protective gesture.

  The man is a mystery—a total contradiction. When I ran into him at Hammers and Strings, I thought he was a gentleman—he caught me so I didn’t fall, then used a handkerchief to try to dry my tears when I cried. Tonight, he’s an absolute savage.

  The ruthlessness with which he dealt with Jamie Thornton was terrifying, but I’d be lying if I said some part of me wasn’t grateful. He did it for me—to keep me safe.

  But don’t you think it was too extreme? You ran into each other at the music store, but you’re basically strangers…

  It was extreme…almost personal. Did something like this happen to someone close to him? Or maybe he and Jamie Thornton have a history.

  His face is like granite, hard and unyielding. A sliver of apprehension ripples over my mind. Not a fear of him, per se. But of what could happen if I let myself get too close to him. He’s the kind of man a woman could easily get attached to…without ever being let into his heart. I’m not in L.A. for that kind of complication and emotional upheaval. I’m here to regain my memory. And to see if I can have a normal, fulfilling life just like everyone else.

  Suddenly I feel drained and exhausted.

  “Thanks for your help. I should…” Actually, I have no idea what I’m going to do next. There’s no way I can play the piano or drive home in this condition. Seeing Sam may not be the best—

  “Do you want me to get you someone? A friend, maybe?”

  I think for a moment, but can’t come up with a single person for him to call. I don’t have any family left, and Julie and Byron are both out of town. “It’s all right,” I say. “Nobody’s available.”

  I suddenly realize even though Sam’s right here in this building, he isn’t on the list of people I think of when I need unconditional love, acceptance and comfort. That makes me feel infinitely alone and vulnerable. If only my parents were alive…

  “I just want to leave now.” I meant to say it firmly. Instead, my voice breaks a little. I swallow, then shoot him an “everything’s fine” smile. He’s done enough. He doesn’t need me to break down and unload a bunch of messy emotions on him.

  The muscles in his jaw flex as he regards me. Then something inside him shifts, pieces coming together to form a tight, cohesive whole. His eyes gleam with an unshakable resolve, which makes me apprehensive for some reason.

  “Tony,” he says, his tone decisive. “My name is Tony. And I’m taking you home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Iris

  “That won’t be necessary,” I say.

  “Are you able to drive?” Tony asks, looking at my shaking hands.

  Although his tone is calm and even, there’s a hint of rage seething underneath. I move a little so that his back will be to Jamie Thornton. Keep Tony’s eyes off him and there will be less reason to start beating him again.

  The thought is strangely comforting. I need every scrap of protection and sense of security I can get. I’m not certain what it means that I’m getting both from this stranger, but I do. He will keep me safe. I know it at the most basic level—the one that lets me play piano pieces I didn’t know I’d mastered.

  “I’m taking you home. Period.” He moves closer, shielding me with his body.

  And I appreciate it that he’s like a wall around me, keeping me safe. I can sense the curious gazes from people in the lobby, and the last thing I want to do is deal with them.

  As he takes me to the main lobby, he texts someone rapidly. I keep my head down and walk as quickly as I can to leave the hotel—and the ugly near-rape experience—behind. Tony matches my pace.

  But this evening just isn’t going to go my way.

  “Iris! Wait!”

  I turn and see Marty. He’s coming toward us, his step light and fast. Cringing, I pull my hair forward to hide the smeared makeup and look away.

  Tony narrows his eyes. He looks like he’d love nothing more than to start hitting someone else. And Marty will do.

  “Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were coming,” he says to Tony, then starts to reach for me. “Where are you going?”

  Tony shifts, blocking Marty’s hand. “I’m taking her home.”

  Marty takes in the jacket around me. From the shrewd look on his face, some kind of feverish calculation is going on. “What about the reception? Iris, you’re supposed—”

  “The guests in there can amuse themselves without live music,” Tony says. “It isn’t like they’re children.”

  Marty jerks his gaze toward Tony. “Didn’t you bring a date?” he says almost too aggressively. “How will she get home if you bail on her?”

  I inhale sharply. The idea Tony might have a date never crossed my mind. The notion sets my teeth on edge for some reason.

  “I came alone.” His expression the very definition of cold apathy and disdain, Tony dismisses Marty with the arch of an eyebrow.

  A gleaming silver Cullinan pulls up. The driver emerges—a mountain of a man in a suit, one whose dark eyes miss nothing and has as much hair
below his nose as above it. He nods at Tony, then almost falters when he notices me. I sense Tony shake his head, a subtle gesture, and the driver’s mouth flattens as he opens the door.

  Their silent communication bothers me. I’m certain Tony won’t hurt me, but this chauffeur, who looks like he should’ve been born thousands of years ago as a Visigoth warlord, is another story. He’s giving off a vibe like the only reason he’s behaving toward me is Tony.

  “She owes me a dance,” Marty interjects suddenly.

  I slowly turn to stare at his face, which rapidly turns red. He and I have never danced, and I have no intention of changing that. Why would he toss out such an unbelievable lie? Because he doesn’t want me to leave with Tony? It makes me want to do the exact opposite.

  Tony’s eyes glint with derision. “You’ll just have to find yourself a new dance partner. Surely you’re capable of accomplishing that much on your own.”

  Marty takes a step forward, his hands clenched.

  The last thing I need is another fight. “I’m not dancing with anyone tonight,” I say, tugging at Tony’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

  Without waiting for an answer, I climb into the car. He follows me in, and the door closes with a solid, comforting thunk.

  I give the driver instructions to my place. He grunts and maneuvers the car away from the hotel.

  Now that I have a moment to gather myself, I take in the opulent luxury and wealth etched in every line of the interior. The engine purrs quietly in the dark, and I can’t help but feel a slight tremor inside, like a small aftershock from an earthquake. It’s probably an aftereffect of what almost happened in the courtyard. Although Jamie looked at me in that slightly creepy way, he seemed harmless. I’d never, ever have suspected he’d try something like that at a business function. He knows I’m Sam’s niece. Did he not care what would happen if he got caught? Or does he not care about keeping his business relationship with Sam?

  Or maybe he thinks Sam will put business ahead of a personal issue…

  That’s hard to believe. Sam’s focused on his company, but he isn’t that callous.