The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

I shrugged beautifully, as if I wasn’t affected by his concern, his potential jealousy. “You have no right to do anything about that.”

“I have the right, Giselle, and I will always have that right. I am closer to you than any other man has ever been or will ever be.”

“No.”

“Mais oui,” he confirmed with that infernal, casual arrogance of the French. “I know things about you, the dark places and the deep, that even you do not like to explore. I know the things you hate about yourself, and I? I nurture them because I know them to be beautiful.”

“Stop it,” I breathed, suddenly aware of the slight tremor wracking my frame.

He lifted one shoulder insolently and tucked his hands in his pockets. “It is not something I can stop knowing.”

“What do you want from me?” A scalding tear rolled over my lid and slid down my cheek.

Sinclair reached out to sweep the burning trail with his thumb. “We could be friends.”

My laugh was soggy with my tears. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I can’t say anyone has every accused me of being ridicule before.”

“Je le crois pas,” I said wryly, I don’t believe that.

“See, this is why we must be friends. You are the only person I have ever met that makes me feel like a boy.”

I frowned, unsure if that was a compliment or not.

“You know le Petit Prince? There is a quote, it goes ‘only children know what they are looking for.’”

I waited in silence for him to explain but he only stared at me with those inscrutable eyes.

It didn’t really matter what the motivation was behind his offer of friendship, I was desperate to grab it, to snare anything that represented time with him. Because he was right, of course. He knew me better then anyone. Even Cosima, who I loved devotedly and yet knew so little about, even Brenna, who hadn’t replied to my emails in over two weeks. A friendship with Sinclair meant that I could smile at him genuinely, that I could speak with him in front of our family like I knew him and spend time with him casually as if I had a right to.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, I mean okay. I think we should be friends too.”

We s

tared at each other without smiling because our joy was concentrated in the eyes. I wrapped myself in the warm blue hues and stopped breathing. He reached out slowly and wrapped his long fingers around my hand, gently pulling me to my feet.

His eyes creased slightly with the effort of holding back his smile. “I’m taking you home.”

Desire plucked my strings like a puppet master, my mouth dropping open to gasp.

“Friends don’t let drunk friends drive or get into cabs alone,” he pointed out, stepping away to gather his wallet and keys from the desk.

I took the moment to suck in a deep, necessary breath. Right, friends. I had never needed to memorize and carry a piece of information so badly. I watched his lean form from the corner of my eye, the colored lights flashing against him like the light of a camera. I released the enormous breath and dragged in another to fill myself with my new mantra, just friends.

I knew the minute we opened the door that Cosima wasn’t home, the air was cool and dark, unpunctuated by the habitual fire and music crooning from the surround sound speakers. I wasn’t sure if her absence was a blessing or a curse because the current of electricity that crackled constantly between Sinclair and me snapped with ferocity as soon as we understood our aloneness.

“Drink?” I murmured as we moved towards the kitchen at the back of the apartment.

Without waiting for an answer, I started to rifle through the fully stocked cupboards. I had no idea where Cosima kept the liquor and I was too frazzled to properly guess at where she may have placed it.

“You sit,” he demanded in that quiet, stern voice that made my bones shake with desire. “I’ll fix us both a drink.”

I nodded gratefully and slipped onto one of the stools at the large wooden island. I watched him maneuver about the kitchen gracefully, locating the ice, tumblers and whiskey as if he himself had placed them there.