The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

“What has happened to you?”

Her smile was shaky but bright. “Almost as much as has happened to you, it looks like. I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your emails and calls but I had to go off the grid for a while. When I logged back into reality last week I devoured all of your notes but I still feel like I’ve missed so much.”

I followed her excited gaze over my shoulder and saw Sinclair standing across the room speaking with Cage. As soon as he felt my eyes on him, he turned unerringly in our direction. My breath hitched at the quiet possession in his eyes as they dragged over me, checking in on my state of mind and my companion. Finally, his lips twitched into a slight smile and he dipped his head to acknowledge Brenna’s presence.

I bit back a smile.

“Let’s start with him,” Brenna laughed, linking my arm through hers. “And then move on to what possessed you to create this amazingly provocative art. The Giselle I knew didn’t know anything beyond the utilitarian value of rope, chains or handcuffs and now I find you exploring BDSM?”

It was my turn to giggle as we paused in front of the portrait of Madame Claire using Dominic as a foot stool, her face hazy behind a cloud of looping cigarette smoke. The oil painting was done in somber hues but for the brilliant red soles of her stiletto heels crossed over the corded muscles of his back.

Brenna licked her lips as she stared at it. “This is deeply titillating stuff, Elle.”

I grinned. “I have you to thank for all of it. If you hadn’t sent me to Mexico in your place, this would never have happened.”

I frowned though, because I had never really thought it through. If Sinclair and I had met as future in-laws, would the sexual chemistry between us have remained dormant?

Awareness pulled my spine straight like a zipper, locking my posture in vertebrae by vertebrae. I shivered as Sinclair took the final step forward to stand beside me and discovered that I had the answer to my question; no matter the meet-cute, Sin and I would have eventually ended up together.

“Brenna Buchannan, I’m a fan of your work, both as an actress and Giselle’s best friend,” Sinclair was saying when I clued back in to reality.

My said best friend grinned and giggled like a little girl. “It’s always nice to meet a fan. I’m sorry it has taken us so long to be introduced.”

“She was worried,” he admitted with a scolding frown as he tucked me into his side.

Brenna blushed but I stepped in to save her from Sinclair’s scrutiny. “She wouldn’t have disappeared without reason. I understand.” I tilted my head up to stare at my handsome boyfriend. “Sometimes, we all need to disappear.”

His eyes sparkled at the reminder of our trip to Paris. I swallowed audibly when one of his large hands wrapped around the back of my neck, his fingers running lightly over the pearl choker. It was a subtle cue to remind me that I belonged with him.

“I’m hosting a little after party to celebrate Giselle’s success after the gallery closes. I hope you are free to join?” Sin asked.

Brenna beamed at him but I was distracted by the rest of their conversation by the sight of my sister standing frozen in the entryway.

Elena was dressed impeccably, as always, the cashmere backless black dress contrasted beautifully with her fair skin and dark red hair. A number of people had stopped staring at the art in order to evaluate her.

I swallowed thickly before excusing myself from the conversation with Brenna and Sinclair. He had no doubt noticed her too but after a quick caress, he let me move forward to handle it myself.

“I didn’t think you would come,” I said as I approached her.

She didn’t look at me, caught up in the massive canvas of Sinclair that dominated the small front wall that immediately faced the entryway.

“I didn’t think I would either.”

I nodded even though I was aware that she wasn’t paying me any attention. So, I stood there beside her staring at the portrait of a lover we had both shared at some point. The three of us had shared the same space since the blowout at our housewarming and now, it was incredibly intimate to be staring at my image of him with Elena by my side. She was staring at the heart of the man I loved and therefore at the very heart of me. If she said something cruel now, as would have been her right, I knew it would eviscerate me.

“It looks just like him,” she finally said, her voice softened by the Napoleon accent she usually tried so hard to hide. “Yet, I’ve never seen him like this. Does that make any sense to you?”