The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

“Speak for yourself,” she whispered.

“I know I’m being,” Sinclair searched for the words and went to tug at his hair in frustration only to realize he had cut it off at Elena’s behest weeks ago, “cruel. But if you will think about it for a while, I know that you will see the truth instead of the brutality.”

“Just because I am not demonstrative, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” she said, her voice weak, fading like the last notes from a wind-up music box.

I wondered if it was because she believed him or if the shock and horror of it all was killing her.

“Tell me, Elena, do you think about me in the spaces between each thought? Do you feel me in your chest like a second beating heart? Do you need me more than your next breath?” Sinclair pounded his fist against his chest and spread his fingers out over his heart. “That is what it is to be in love.”

“You are in love with the whore,” Elena said, her voice once again accent-less and monotone. “My God, you actually think you’re in love with her.”

Sinclair tilted his chin and stared at her coolly. “I am very much in love with her. That doesn’t excuse my infidelity and it doesn’t make this easier to do. But it’s the truth.”

Elena’s pale lips trembled as she pressed both palms to her thighs and smoothed down her trousers. She did it carefully three or four times in a row, her gaze fixed on the movement of her hands over the cloth. Finally, she looked up at Sinclair and stepped forward once more.

“You are the worst kind of bastard, Daniel, because you pretend to be a gentleman. I want you to understand that I won’t ever forgive you.” She smiled thinly, her face sliced in half by the sharp edges of her mouth.

Sinclair nodded. “I can’t expect you to.”

“I don’t want to speak with you again unless it is through a lawyer,” she added.

I understood the spiteful game she was playing, throwing things at him to see how much he could take. I felt sorry for her because I knew he would accept every ounce of bitterness she doled out; no one felt more deserving of hatred than Sinclair.

She was only going to grow angrier when she realized it.

“I understand.”

“And I want you to stay away from my family,” she snarled, stepping forward to press a finger into his chest. “From now on you no longer fish with Sebastian, you no longer eat at Mama’s restaurant and you sure a hell stop being friends with Cosima. If I see you with them again, I’ll rip your fucking eyes out.”

The mass of emotions clogging my throat made it hard to breath and I choked on them when I realized that she hadn’t even bothered to put a moratorium on a relationship with me.

I knew by the way Sin’s jaw hardened that he heard the slight too.

“I was friends with Cosima before I even knew you, Elena,” he tried to reason.

“I was your partner before you even knew the whore you’ve been sleeping with, Daniel,” she mocked. “Deal with it. She won’t want to be friends with you anymore, regardless. I don’t think this is too much to ask for.”

For the first time all night, Sinclair softened, stepping forward to lift a tentative hand and place it on her shoulder. She stiffened under his touch but allowed it.

“I am so sorry for hurting you, Elena, and I will do anything to make this easier for you. But I can’t promise to stay away from your family. They are my family now too.”

A loud crack echoed through the room as Elena slapped him hard across the face. “Stop pretending to be reasonable, stop making me feel like the bad guy here. You cheated on me, Daniel! If you can’t seem to get that through your head, I’ll make sure everyone you know understands what a bastard you are so that you don’t forget it.”

I swallowed a sob, curling my knees into my chest and hugging them, as Elena stormed out of the room. The door to the suite slammed shut with an angry bang behind her.

Sin stood rooted to the spot, his head turned slightly from the impact of Elena’s slap. I couldn’t breathe without sobbing so I swallowed convulsively and held my breath. After a long minute, he unfroze, rolling his shoulders back and swiveling on his heel so that he faced my hiding spot. He crossed the space in two huge strides and crouched before me, parting the clothes and lifting my curled form effortlessly into his arms. I was sobbing by the time my cheek hit the overheated skin of his chest.

“I love you, I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over again.

I tried to take comfort from his words, especially because I had yearned for them for so long, but they were only a drop in the ocean of my pain and I knew I deserved to wallow in it.