The Affair (The Evolution of Sin 1)

It wasn’t a question but I nodded anyway. “When will you be back?”

His thumb inched under my shirt and rubbed over the bare skin at the base of my spine. “Not soon enough. In time for dinner.”

I smiled at the domesticity of his comment, unsure if he realized it or not. “No worries. If you are late, we can skip right to dessert.”

“Mmm, lavender and honey. My favorite.” He leaned close, bending down so that he could look on my level into my eyes. I thought he would kiss me but he only smiled, beautifully with his firm lips parted to reveal nearly perfect white teeth. “Be safe and have fun, siren.”

I swallowed and braced my feet further apart, afraid that I would float into the air on cloud nine. “Will do, master.”

He chuckled and lightly brushed his hand over my bottom as he let me go and stepped away.

“Are you done hitting on my lady, Sinclair?” Cage demanded as he stepped away from a shell-shocked young woman who stared after him and slung an arm around my shoulders.

I laughingly shoved him away with my hip but he held on, his face collapsing into sorrow. “Look what you’ve done, turning her against me.”

Candy hit him, not too lightly, on the back of his head with a binder. “Let her go, you oaf.”

Cage winced, rubbing the back of his skull. “You guys are no fun.”

“I assure you, that’s not the case.” There was a trace of humor in Sinclair’s cool tones.

His colleagues blinked, shocked by his innuendo. Robert Corbett cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably but Richard Denman grinned broadly at me and winked. Sinclair was the one to break the silence by raising a condescending eyebrow at his dumbstruck friends and winking – actually winking – at me as he walked passed us to the waiting car.

“Wow,” Candy breathed, a hand to her lower stomach. “I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

I flushed but didn’t try to contain my laughter.

“What have you done to that man?” Richard clapped a hand to my back, his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Whatever it is, keep it up. I haven’t seen Sin so light at heart…” He frowned and then threw his head back to chuckle. “Ever.”

Their compliments were slightly awkward. I had wondered what Sinclair was like with Darling back at home, if he was so charming, so passionate. It seemed that I now had an answer but it only led to so many questions that were even more haunting. Like would I ever see him again after I got on the plane tomorrow?

Cage, surprisingly, didn’t say anything. Instead, he squeezed my shoulder and released me, taking a step back to study me. He was wearing distractingly bright green spandex swim shorts and the sight of his muscular thighs and the bulge in the thin material momentarily distracted me. After a second, he grabbed a piece of paper off the receptionist desk and scribbled something on the back of a card before pressing it into my palm. Distracted by his sudden departure, I tucked the folded paper into my purse without reading it.

When the men and an unseen Margot had left, Candy and I decided to walk to town. It was a half an hour trek in the hot sun but we were both up for it and it gave me the opportunity to photograph the small stretch of local boroughs before we hit the market. Candy kept up a constant stream of pleasant conversation, happily pointing out things I might find of interest and she flat out giggled when I insisted on taking a picture of an old Mexican man wearing nothing but a long pair of dusty shorts sound asleep and practically rolling out of his seat before a small but carefully maintained pink house.

“How long have you been photographing for?” she asked me, wiping off the crown of sweat beaded on her forehead.

“My sister bought me my first camera when I was sixteen.” I could still remember the feel of the second hand Canon in my hands, the hard click of the shutter as it closed over an image. I still had the camera, carefully wrapped in my suitcase because I hadn’t wanted to risk shipping it to New York with the rest of my meager things from Paris.

“Did you train?”

The mouth of the marketplace loomed up ahead and the colorful cacophony made my finger twitch over the lens of my camera.

“Five years at L'École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, mostly in painting.”

“Wow. I’ve always loved art. Obviously, working with Sinclair it’s a prerequisite. But I cannot paint to save my life, unless you count splatter painting.”

I laughed but my mind was caught on her earlier comment. “Sinclair likes art?”

She frowned at me over the rim of a large ceramic pitcher she was inspecting. “Well, he should. He owns one of the more prestigious art galleries in the city.”

What city? I bit back my question and nodded. “Right.”

She must have caught my sigh because suddenly her hand was on mine.

“Listen, Elle. I know we don’t really know each other and under other circumstances I’m sure the cultured classy artist would have nothing to do with the dumpy business woman.” Her smile was sharp with self-deprecation. “But I feel as if we are friends. And as a friend, I can tell you that I’ve never seen my boss like this. He’s lightened. Usually, he walks around like a living sculpture, beautiful and untouchable. You make him come alive.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”