The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

It was exactly the kind of place I expected the Governor of New York and his socialite wife to live in, from the gabled windows to the perfectly symmetrical hedges lining the drive. As if I wasn’t nervous enough already, my heart leapt into a sprint.

“Putain,” I cursed under my breath.

Sinclair chuckled softly before parking in the cobbled driveway that looped around a central water feature. I waited, mostly because I was frozen with anxiety, for him to open the door for me.

“Giselle,” he said, after gently helping me out of the car and pushing me back against the closed door.

His voice came to me like I was underwater.

“Giselle.”

It was the warm stroke of his thumb across my cheekbone that stirred me. I blinked up at him owlishly.

He smiled tenderly. “You look beautiful and I am very much in love with you. Have I told you that today?”

“No,” I couldn’t help but pout, drawn in by his unusual playfulness. “Not for at least twenty-six hours.”

“Well, that won’t do at all.”

He pressed his body flush against mine. Even with the layers of silk and cotton between us, I could feel his heat.

“What I wouldn’t give to take you back home and leave this godforsaken place. I would tie you spread eagle to our bed and worship you for hours.”

“Why don’t you?” I breathed, completely forgetting where we were and why.

A smile ghosted along his firm lips. “I cannot run away and hide between your thighs every time I am afraid of losing you.”

“It’s impossible.”

“I know, I own and operate my own company. As enjoyable as it would be, I can’t afford to go bankrupt,” he teased.

“No,” I insisted, hauling him even closer by the lapels of his ludicrously expensive suit. “C’est impossible que tu seras sans moi.”

It is impossible that you will ever be without me.

That was my truth. As long as Sinclair wanted me, I was his.

He softened, wrapping me up in his arms so that my cheek was pressed to his chest and his nose was in my hair. I smiled while he drank in a deep lungful of my scent.

“Okay, my siren, are you ready for the den of dragons?” he asked.

I threaded my fingers through his and looked down my nose at him. “I was born ready.”

I wasn’t.

The Percy mansion was the American equivalent to a French chateau or an Italian villa but without any of the serenity or warmth. It was like a mausoleum.

A real-life butler with a large mustache answered the massive oak front door. He immediately gave us a cordial greeting and seemed delighted to shake hands with Sin, but I was too intimidated to smile at him.

Sinclair smoothed his thumb over the back of our joined hands as we entered the main hall. Dark wood glistened beautifully from every corner, swooping down in a double curved staircase that framed the entryway. My heels wobbled on the plush Persian carpet we stood on as I took everything in.

I caught my reflection in a large gilt mirror to the left after I woodenly handed my coat to the butler. My cheeks were pale under wide anxious eyes and my curls spilled like dark blood over my shoulders in the dim light. I was wearing a demure dress, thinking that the black satin and the high-necked halter would read as sophisticated. Instead, it flowed down my curves like an oil slick, highlighting the nipples that had hardened immediately from the cool air outside and the arrogant curve of my ass. The black made me look like a slut, not a lady and even the pearls at my ears and the elegant pearl collar at my throat could do nothing to elevate my class.

Sinclair’s hand found the skin of my bared back, his fingers toying with the long silky ribbon holding my dress together at my neck. “The only thing that will get me through this is the thought of unraveling you like a present at the end of the night.”

I shivered and blushed fiercely while the butler pretended not to notice. It took me another moment to notice the faint murmur of voices floating from a room further down the left hallway.

My gaze flew to Sinclair.

It sounded like more than just his parents were there for dinner.

“Hainesport?” Sinclair asked in his dangerously mild tone. “I was under the impression it was just my parents, my girlfriend and me for dinner tonight?”

The mustached Hainesport cleared his throat awkwardly. “You are mistaken, Mr. Sinclair. Your parents are having a small gathering to celebrate your father’s announcement.”

Sin stiffened. “Announcement?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Putain,” Sin swore under his breath.

He looked down at me, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I reached up to press the spot with my fingers, offering support even though I had an awful feeling that this night was already taking a turn for the worse.