Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners 3)

My gaze lands on Emre. Lifting an arm, I signal to him to come over to my table.

“The place is packed,” he says as he takes a seat.

“It’s always packed.” Taking hold of the tumbler of whiskey, I watch the liquid slosh as I pick it up. “I’m heading home. I need to discuss Lara’s wages with her.”

Emre turns his attention away from the floor to look at me. “How much are you going to pay her?”

“Fuck knows. Can you remember what wage Babaanne started Nisa Hanim on?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “How do you expect me to remember? I was in diapers when Nisa Hanim started working for us.”

Locking eyes with my cousin, I tilt my head. “True.”

“I have a question.” When I nod, he asks, “Why did you employ Lara if she clearly annoys you?”

“It’s the whole vulnerable-innocent vibe she’s giving off,” I mutter. “I’m starting to think it’s why Mazur couldn’t kill her. I sure as fuck couldn’t when she was down on her knees in front of me.”

Emre’s smile grows, a mischievous gleam entering his eyes. “Look at you getting all soft because of a woman.”

“Fuck off,” I growl. Having had enough of this conversation, I finish my drink and get up from the chair. “Take care of things here.”

“Always.”

While Mirac drives me home, I deliberate about Lara’s wages. She’s not a permanent employee yet, so I’m not going to pay her what I pay my other staff.

When Mirac stops the car in front of the house, I get out and take the steps up to the front door.

While she’s on probation, I’ll pay her two thousand dollars a month. If she proves to be of any worth, I’ll increase it.

Walking through the west wing, I cross paths with Nisa and ask, “Is Lara in her room?”

“Evet.” Before I can walk away, she adds, “Even though she’s still healing, she worked hard today.”

I nod, then head in the direction of Lara’s bedroom. I only knock once before opening the door.

Lara’s sitting at the table in front of the window, her hair half braided. She startles, darts up, and winches with pain from the sudden movement.

Like earlier, she folds her hands in front of her and lowers her head.

“I’ve decided your wages will be two thousand for the next three months. Give me your banking details.”

Shocked, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. “Banking details, sir?”

I’ve only been five minutes in her presence, and already annoyance is creeping up my spine. “Your bank account number. What is it?”

Looking confused and scared, she shakes her head. “I don’t have a bank account.”

Unexpectedly compassion slithers into my heart like a fucking thief in the night, only making me feel more irritated.

My mind races to ignore the unwelcome emotion and to come up with a quick solution that won’t inconvenience me, but then I remember she said her personal documents are still at Mazur’s house. “I’ll have one of my men bring your belongings. Murat will take you to open an account.”

“Yes, sir.” She hesitates, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, then she looks at me as if I just promised her the fucking world and whispers, “Thank you, sir.”

I’ve been thanked millions of times but never have the words hit as hard as they do now. My heart constricts, and as I stare at the woman that’s become my problem, I feel another wave of intense compassion.

Jesus, this is the last thing I need.

I stalk out of the room, yanking the door shut behind me, thinking things must’ve been seriously fucked up at Mazur’s place if the woman is so damn thankful even though I practically kidnapped her.

She’s just another employee.

Chapter 12

Lara

Since Murat placed the box on the table in my bedroom, I’ve been swallowing hard on my emotions.

My belongings.

It might not be much, but it’s mine.

How long have I been here? Almost eleven or twelve days? Not once have I been shouted at, slapped, or whipped. So far, these people have been kind to me.

Even though I’m still scared of Gabriel, the fear has lessened some. He’s going to pay me to work here. Two thousand dollars. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the large sum of money, and I have no idea what I’ll do with it.

Just save it.

And now he’s had my personal belongings brought over from Tymon’s mansion.

It’s surreal.

My hand trembles slightly as I lift the lid. Carefully, I remove the sets of clothes and my sneakers. My eyes threaten to tear up at the sight of the worn Cinderella book Mom used to read to me.

Taking hold of the storybook, I swallow hard. I turn to the first page, and seeing the only photo I have of my mom, my chin starts to quiver.

Don’t cry.

My eyes drink in her light brown hair and blue eyes.