Sins

by Lee, Nadia

  He disposes of the used rubber, and we spoon.

  “That was awesome,” I say softly.

  He kisses the back of my neck. “It was.”

  I trace patterns on the back of his hand with a finger, writing “T” and “I” in different ways, waiting for him to say more. When he stays quiet, I suddenly feel vulnerable, wondering if I’m the only one who experienced that amazing connection. Tony’s older and worldlier. It might’ve been good for him, but not divine like it was for me. I stop tracing the patterns.

  “I knew you’d be worth it,” I say, trying to regain some equilibrium by acting like I didn’t feel naked all the way to the deepest core of my soul.

  “Did you?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m very particular. Would you let just anybody play a Bösendorfer Imperial?” I say cheekily.

  Tony tenses up.

  I blink, then turn in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

  His gaze searches my face. “Sometimes…I wonder…”

  I wait, holding my breath. Something’s off. He was supposed to laugh at my cocky impudence, and I was supposed to laugh in response. I want to find out what went wrong so I can fix it and we can go back to feeling sated. “What?” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re so damn hot, you make me forget what I was about to say.” Then he kisses me like I’m the missing half of his heart.

  I kiss him back, even as my mind tells me I said something to disturb him. Should I not have said anything about being picky? I didn’t think he would care.

  But soon I’m lost in the sweet need building between us. The only thing that matters is Tony, holding me, held in my arms.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Anthony

  A few hours later, I lie beside a sleeping Iris and stroke her back. I should have guarded my reaction better, but when she mentioned the Bösendorfer Imperial, I couldn’t control myself.

  I tenderly push a few strands of hair away from her face. She smells like a well-satisfied woman, plus my soap and shampoo—a combination that’s insanely hot and gratifying. I wanted to kiss her the moment she stepped into the living room, and ravish her until she turned to a happy, boneless puddle. But I had to play Schubert. I have to truly know who I’m with so I can figure out how to proceed and protect her.

  Eventually, I slip out of bed and shower. I don’t need much more than a few hours of sleep at night, but Iris is different. She doesn’t stir even after I get dressed and press a kiss to her temple.

  I listen to her soft, even breathing for a while, gratitude swelling until I feel like I’m about to burst. I can never forget how cold and still the world went when Harry told me Ivy was gone forever. My own world going blacker than ink. And most of all, how much I hated myself for being a fucking coward. Not being strong enough to keep her with me. Keep her safe. I deserved to lose her back then, but not through death. She deserved to live, to shine like the brightest of stars. So I could at least gaze upon her from afar, like a sailor lost at sea.

  Quietly, I go to the kitchen to get some coffee. I have so many questions about the accident and what happened, but I can’t get immediate answers to any of them. I need Jill back in town.

  I check my phone on the counter. I forgot to charge it last night, but there’s still some juice left.

  One text from Wei, informing me Audrey called him twenty-eight times and sent seventy-four texts. She wanted him to know (and tell me) she was in love with me, hated Iris and couldn’t understand what Iris has that she doesn’t. Her seventy-fourth text finally contained an apology for being a bitch because she didn’t mean to embarrass everyone. I don’t have to read Audrey’s own words to know by “everyone” she means Ryder and me. She is so self-absorbed, with the media fawning over her fleeting beauty, that she can’t accept that there are men who don’t put her on a pedestal and worship her.

  Like me.

  As for Ryder, I have two missed calls and one text from him.

  I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t know you were going to be there, and I certainly had no idea Audrey would do that. I meant what I said. I’ll have her dress replaced and give her whatever compensation she wants.

  I smile thinly. Sorry, Ryder, no, I think. You already screwed up once, and in this case, one strike means you’re out.

  The coffeemaker is done, and I take a slow sip of the fresh brew, then call Ryder. He picks up after the second ring.

  “Anthony?”

  “Control your women, Ryder. I know you thrive on scandals and publicity, but I don’t, and neither does my date.”

  “I swear to you, I didn’t arrange that on purpose. Audrey is just a costar—was. She won’t be working with me anymore. Don’t like getting involved with people who can’t control themselves.”

  I cock an eyebrow. That must be incredibly upsetting for Audrey. “She didn’t pitch a hissy fit?”

  He snorts. “Of course she did. But my agent and manager will handle it. There are hundreds of young starlets starving for opportunities. She isn’t that special.”

  I laugh dryly. I wish I were recording this conversation, so I could send it to Audrey.

  “But Anthony…” He clears his throat. “Your date… She looks like that girl from Louisi—”

  “Don’t even say it,” I warn him, my voice hard. I don’t need him talking. People lap up every syllable out of his mouth like he’s Buddha incarnate. I don’t want anybody to know that Ryder and I are aware of a possible connection between Iris and Ivy.

  “But—”

  “You lost the right to comment on my life when you betrayed me. I haven’t forgotten a thing, Ryder. Just because I sent your wife a gift for the baby doesn’t mean we’re good again.” I hang up before he can respond.

  I know what he wants to say. He’s going to try to appeal to our time together in Europe. Like somehow we should go back to being best buds again.

  Just like I can’t undo my fuckups, Ryder can’t undo his. He and his circle of toxicity aren’t getting anywhere near Iris.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Iris

  When I open my eyes, it’s pitch-black in Tony’s bedroom. The bedside clock says it’s after ten. I don’t usually sleep this late. I stretch, then wince at the small aches all over my body.

  Tony was insatiable last night. Julie told me once that men can’t go all night long, no matter how young and fit, but he did. If I hadn’t practically passed out, there’s no telling how long…

  Not that I’m complaining. I stretch like a cat. He has the most magical ability to make me forget everything and just feel. Other than music, nothing does that.

  After a quick shower, I discover an extra toothbrush on the vanity. I pick it up and brush my teeth, then put on a new dress shirt from his closet and go downstairs. It smells like fresh java.

  “Please tell me you have some coffee for me,” I say as I step into the kitchen.

  With a small smile, Tony pushes a large, plain white mug with two creams and a sugar in my direction. I sigh happily, dump them into the dark brew and stir.

  Tony looks well rested and sharp, even though it’s obvious he got up hours ago. His blue T-shirt and shorts are casual and ordinary, but settled over the lean, strong lines of his body, they look like high-fashion items.

  He’s looking at me with a particularly satisfied smile.

  “Reliving your glory last night?” I say.

  “Among other things. You want some breakfast?”

  “Isn’t it a little late?”

  He shrugs. “So?”

  “I don’t eat breakfast this late.”

  “You didn’t have a decent dinner last night. We didn’t even get to have that specialty cheesecake. You must be hungry.” His lips press tightly together. “And you’re so thin.”

  I am? “You weren’t complaining last night.”

  He gives me a look. “Don’t be obtuse. I have granola bars, Greek yogurt and fresh berries. Bagels, too. What sounds good?”

  “
Yogurt and fruit. How did you know?” Pretty sure that’s not what he eats for breakfast. Men as big and muscled as Tony need more.

  “I noticed them in your kitchen.” He serves the yogurt and berries in two azure glass bowls.

  I pick up a few berries with my fingers and toss them into the yogurt, which turns out to be much richer in consistency than what I normally eat. I make a mental note to see which brand Tony got.

  As I eat, Tony comes around the island and stands behind me. Then, very gently, he massages my neck and shoulders.

  “Mmm, that feels so nice.”

  “Keep eating.”

  His fingers are firm and knowledgeable, finding all the tight spots and working on the knots underneath my skin.

  “Don’t you have to work?” I ask. Men who are well off seem to be working all the time, even on weekends. Sam once told me he worked virtually nonstop back when he was building his company. Julie complains Byron is actually a little boring because he works so much, even on weekends and holidays. And Tony’s at least as successful as those two.

  “Why should I? It’s Saturday.” He buries his nose in my slightly damp hair. “I like the way you smell. My shampoo and soap on you.”

  “You mean I smell like a guy?” I joke, over the last spoonful of the yogurt.

  “No. You smell like you’re with me.” He kisses the back of my neck.

  The spot tingles, and my breath catches, desire heating my blood as though he and I didn’t spend most of last night pleasuring each other.

  “Stay,” he whispers against my skin.

  I shiver. “Okay.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Iris

  I stop, the final note of “La Campanella” fading into the air. I turn to Tony, who’s been listening from an armchair he moved closer to the Steinway.

  “Well?” I say. I’m dying to know what he thinks, because his opinion matters. He matters.

  “You’ve gotten much better,” he says.

  “That’s a funny thing to say. You’ve never heard me play ‘La Campanella’ before.

  He closes his eyes briefly. “I meant compared to the video.”

  Does he think I’m that scatterbrained? “That was Grand Galop Chromatique. And silly, empty flattery will get you nowhere.” A mock pout on my lips, I stand.

  He takes my wrist and pulls me onto his lap. “You sure? I’ll be happy to prove you wrong.”

  I laugh, then try to tickle him. During our weekend together, I discovered one small spot on his side where he’s particularly sensitive. I love it because it’s unexpectedly vulnerable and sweet that a man as sophisticated and hard as Tony can be ticklish.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he warns me, but there’s a smile in his voice.

  “Oh, come on. One last time before I have to go home.”

  He sobers. “Go home?”

  I nod.

  “Why? You can leave from here tomorrow.”

  “I can’t go like this.” I hold out his dress shirt.

  “I’ll have a new set of clothes brought for Monday.”

  It’s really tempting, but… I shake my head. “I want to get a few things and get some decent sleep. It won’t be possible with you next to me, so…home.”

  His eyebrows pinch together, his mouth set in a mulish line. I rub his lower lip until he no longer looks vaguely dissatisfied. “I still don’t like it,” he says.

  “Why?” I think of a compromise. “How about if we spend the evening together at my place untiiil…let’s say ten?”

  “I hate that you think of it as your home. It’s Byron’s place.”

  Oh my. “Are you jealous?”

  “Yes.” He gives me an “and I’m not ashamed to admit it” look. “Why should you spend another night under his roof? The very idea is offensive.”

  Tony has a point. If I were him, I’d be annoyed, too, but only because I didn’t understand the real situation. Time to clear things up once and for all. “Byron’s just a friend, Tony. You wouldn’t object if I stayed with Julie.”

  “Because she’s a girl, and you don’t play for the other team.”

  “I don’t play for Team Byron either.”

  “Maybe. But he’s definitely playing on Team Iris.”

  Huh? “What makes you think that?”

  “I saw you and him outside Hammers and Strings.”

  “And you got ‘Byron’s trying to sleep with Iris’ out of that interaction?” And I thought my imagination could go a little wild from time to time. “He gave me a ride. That’s all.”

  He gives me a look reserved for the hopelessly naïve. “Iris, no heterosexual guy becomes a hot woman’s friend without wanting to worm his way into her bed. It’s a universal truth.”

  “That’s preposterous! He’s Julie’s brother.”

  “Exactly the point. He’s not your brother.”

  I give up. “You’re insane. Completely, totally bonkers.”

  Suddenly, he grows serious. “I am when it comes to you. I can’t think straight because my head is filled with questions—how do I not screw this up? How do I make you happy? How do I keep you safe?”

  Oh, Tony. The glimpse of his vulnerability makes whatever we were bickering about seem inconsequential and silly. I reach out and hold his face. “You aren’t screwing up. You’ve already made me happy and kept me safe.” I kiss his forehead and eyes. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

  “Iris…”

  The rawness lingers in his gaze. I wonder what happened to put this kind of pain in a man so strong and powerful, and I wish I could erase it. “I swear you are, but if it’ll make you feel better, I promise to tell you if you do anything to ‘screw up.’ Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “As for my going back, it’s a temporary home, Tony. I’m not going to stay there forever. I never intended to. Byron’s not even there right now. Julie’s returned from her trip to Moscow, and she’s staying with me. And it doesn’t matter who’s playing for Team Iris because the only team I’m playing is Team Tony.”

  He nods. “Okay. Can I ask you to do a couple of things?”

  “What?”

  “First, take the spare keys to my place.”

  Wow. “Are you sure?”

  “You’re welcome to come over anytime, even when I’m not home.”

  I nod, realizing that Tony’s signaling he’s ready to take our relationship further than just fun sex on weekends, and glad—turned on, in fact—that he’s taking charge and letting me know what he wants because this is exactly what I want, too. “Anything else?”

  “Take my number. And TJ’s.”

  “Your number’s fine. Who’s TJ?”

  “My bodyguard and chauffeur.”

  “Ah. The Visigoth.”

  Tony laughs. “TJ would like that.”

  “But why would I need his number?”

  “If you can’t reach me, contact him.” Tony takes my hand, running his thumb over my fingers. “Call either of us for anything, no matter how small or insignificant. We’ll be there for you.”

  “Are you sure? What if I call you to get me ice cream?”

  “Then I’ll get you ice cream.” He kisses my fingers, his eyes on mine.

  He’s dead serious. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like Tony. After my parents’ deaths, I felt like I’d never have anyone who would love and care for me unconditionally. Waking up a year later and not being able to connect with any of my old friends only fed the fear, which I’ve tried so, so hard to ignore. “What if I want to couch-surf here?” I toss it out, swinging to a more demanding request. I’m aware I’m testing Tony, but I need to know.

  His expression softens as though he knows what I’m doing. “Fabulous. But we can do better than a couch for a woman of such excellent taste and exacting standards. After all, you seem to find my lovemaking marvelous…and I have the better piano.”

  Laughing, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, showing him what I can’t quite put int
o words.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Iris

  When I return, Julie’s at home, barefoot in a pink T-shirt and gym shorts. She jumps off the couch the moment I step inside. The Sound of Music is playing on the TV. “Holy shit, tell me you didn’t spend the entire weekend with Anthony Blackwood!”

  Since I can’t tell her that, I say nothing. She’s so biased against him, and I need to find a way to fix it. Maybe a dinner together and hanging out at his club afterward. Julie’s the only really close girlfriend I have. I want her to like Tony.

  She looks at me. “Oh my fucking God. Is that one of his shirts?”

  I nod. At least I have my underwear, so I’m not totally indecent. But the way Julie’s reacting, I might as well be buck-naked.

  “Damn,” she says, her gaze sweeping me up and down as though she’s seeing me for the first time.

  Which is irritating. In the background, Maria is teaching the kids how to sing “Do-Re-Mi.” Does Julie think I should be virginal like that? “What is it?”

  “Haven’t you seen that video? It went viral.”

  “What, Byron’s video?”

  She shakes her head. “You and Audrey Duff.” She gasps as though she just remembered something. “Ryder Reed was there, too, wasn’t he? Is he as hot in real life as in the movies?”

  “Hotter,” I say automatically, since that’s the easiest part to answer, and I’m not following her very well at the moment. “What happened?”

  “I tried calling you, but everything went to voice mail.”

  “Sorry. I forgot to charge my phone.” I was too busy, immersed in those lovely private hours with Tony.

  “Okay.” Julie rakes her hair. “Well, somebody at the restaurant filmed it. Actually, more than one person. And they uploaded the videos on Facebook and YouTube.”