Scandalous (Sinners of Saint 3)

“Make her nod again. Please.” The last word came out reluctantly, as if admitting defeat. I worried my lower lip, inspecting him like he’d just landed from space wearing a pineapple hat and a Hula skirt.

“Okay…” I scrunched my nose, looking down at Luna.

“Hey, dude, want another sip of Coke?”

Luna nodded and reached for the can. Trent laughed. God, he laughed. And not the way he’d laughed at me when he caught me trying to steal from his mother. He laughed like the world was ending and he didn’t care. Like this office wasn’t a hellhole and we didn’t hate each other’s guts. He laughed with a promise, with a melody, with a mellifluous sound that trickled bone-deep and changed the rhythm of my heartbeat. My knees snapped like thin twigs, and I almost stumbled down in shock.

He was such…a man.

Not that Vicious, Dean, and Jaime weren’t men. They were—along with eighty percent of the people populating this floor. But only Trent Rexroth looked tortured and serious enough to cross all the bridges in the world and burn them shore to shore to get his way. Only Trent Rexroth looked liable to ruin your life if he put his mind to it. The fear he’d ingrained in me turned me on. And that worried me. A lot.

“I can do it again,” I mumbled, half-desperate to hear the sound coming out of his mouth again, half-hoping it would make him look at me as more than a potential sacrifice.

He arched a devilish, thick eyebrow. “Let’s see. But no Coke.”

I squatted down to Luna and whispered something into her ear. She lowered her head and tried to stifle her laugh with her tiny fist. Triumphant, I looked up to examine Trent. This time, he wasn’t smiling. His eyes were gleaming with something I wasn’t entirely sure he could even feel.

For a fleeting moment, something passed between us, but I didn’t know what it was. He looked at me with an intensity I could feel on my shoulders. Like I had a superpower he wanted to get his hands on. I was almost relieved when Camila walked into the break room and he snapped his head toward her while I hurried to discard the Coke into the recycle bin.

“Mr. Rexroth! I’m s-so so sorry. I told her not to give Luna any soda. I would never let Luna stay with a complete stranger.“ She was stuttering, her eyes moving frantically among the three of us as she cupped one of her cheeks with her hand. “Luna, come here, sweetie. Look, I was Edie’s nanny for eight years. I know her very well. And I was just down the hallway, in the restroom…”

Wow. He must be a shithead for a boss. Although I didn’t need Camila’s reaction to know he was the take-no-prisoners type. Trent waved her off, losing interest in her speech.

“It’s fine. Camila, can you take Luna to the play room on the tenth floor? I’ll be right down.”

“Of course.” Worry still marred every cell in my old nanny’s face as she scooped Luna in her arms and rushed outside of the spacious galley, her steps quickening as she glanced behind her shoulder at her dictator employer. Trent and I were left alone, and even though I felt disgusted with myself, my stomach flipped the way it usually did before a first kiss.

He got into my personal space with one stride. I gulped when I realized he was over ten inches taller than me.

“Is pissing me off your mission in life?” His tone was a flat line on a monitor, dead and grave.

I shrugged, not skipping a beat. “No, but it’s a nice bonus.”

He smiled. There was a threat in his smirk. His scent did stupid things to my head. Pulling at strings in my body I didn’t know could ache and tugging my reason in the wrong direction. I gulped, taking a step back. Trent seemed to disregard my plea for space and ate the distance between us again. My lower back hit the tawny, cool counter. Why was everything gold and corrupted here?

“There’s a Funny Felix party on Saturday for Luna’s kid camp. Tobago Beach. I want you to be there.” His request was direct, callous. So was the big hand he put on the counter behind me, hovering over my body. I shook my head.

“I…I can’t.”

“I don’t think you understand, Edie. I’m not asking your underage ass on a Chuck E. Cheese date. This is not optional. It’s part of your job description. Look at your contract. Clause 4.4 requires you to put in some additional hours every month—weekends included. This is a business transaction. Nothing more.”

“You don’t understand.” I gripped the counter behind me until my knuckles turned white, hyperaware of how his right hand was inches from mine. The idea of touching him was crazy and enticing. Sinful, even. “I don’t do Saturdays. My Saturdays are mine, and I spend them out of town, in San Diego. I can work Sundays—no problem. But not Saturdays.” I choked out every word. Trent’s hardened face didn’t flinch. His lips were so close to mine, I wasn’t sure whether I was imagining it or if we really were molding into something else. I could feel his torso moving to the tempo of his breath without our bodies touching. The intimacy stripped me bare from the snark I usually carried like a cloak to keep the world at bay.