The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

I bit my lip against my protest because as far as olive branches went, it was relatively harmless and honestly, it would probably do me good to go out with someone new.

“That sounds lovely.” I leaned in to give her a hug and smiled slightly when she gave me her customary pat on the back.

“Does Wednesday work for you?”

“Sounds great,” I said I donned my coat and began to walk towards the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Excellent. Oh and Giselle?” she called after me. “Try to wear something more appropriate for daytime.”

I waved my consent at her over my shoulder and pushed through the door into the welcome city bustle.

Despite the awkwardness, I was glad we had spent some quality time alone. It didn’t change how I felt about Sinclair, it hadn’t lessened or intensified my guilt, and, honestly, it hadn’t made me feel any closer to Elena.

It was strange how indifference could cripple a relationship just as assuredly as animosity.

Still, I hadn’t spent quality with my eldest sister in years and it was interesting to catalogue her growth and sameness. She went for a manicure every ten days but still picked at her hangnails when she was nervous, and she spoke with a perfect English accent but the wrinkle between her brow when people spoke too quickly belied her aptitude with the language. She was such a writhing mass of contradictions I wasn’t sure how to read her, let alone get along with her. And I was okay with that.

Did it make me a terrible person that I found my time spent with Elena most lent itself to my relationship, or lack of one, with Sinclair?

Because I could understand now how he could love her, how very compatible they were even if it was artificially. The superficiality of their likeness was exactly the point of their relationship; they both liked to live life behind a meticulously honed mask of respectability and elegance.

I looked in the mirror as I carefully applied the last of my lipstick, a deep reddish pink that complimented the dark grey, silver threaded dress Cosima had helped me choose earlier that week. The silk flowed down my curves like rainwater over steel, binding my waist and baring a deep square of flesh between my breasts. My auburn hair, lighter than it had been since my sun kissed summers in Napoli, spiraled softly around my lightly freckled shoulders.

“It’s good.” I murmured to myself in the mirror, sucking in a deep breath and adjusting my full breasts in the tight panels to show them off to their

best advantage.

But I didn’t feel good. My heart was fragile and dry in my chest, something that had been set aflame and with each beat turned slowly to ash. I wished Cosima was here to press a fragrant kiss to my cheek and tell me I was beautiful or Brenna, who would have already popped the champagne and made our preparation into a party. I wasn’t used to dressing up but it felt sad and a little wrong to do it alone, especially when I was already wretched with the thought of facing Éclair (my couple name for Elena and Sinclair).

I grabbed my jeweled clutch and slipped my feet into delicately strapped black shoes before opening the door to leave.

“Mind a tag-along?”

My head whipped up, a lock of my hair sticking to my eyelashes, to see Sebastian decked out in a gorgeous black tuxedo. He held a box of sweets from Dylan’s Candy Bar and a small silver flask.

“This is to get us through the night.” He indicated the flask and then held up the candies. “And this is your reward for afterwards.”

“A handsome man comes to my door bearing gifts? I’d be a fool not to take him.” I slipped into his arms for a spicy scented hug and closed my eyes for a second to absorb how good it felt to be with my brother again.

We stood like that for a moment before I murmured, “How did you know I’d need you?”

He hesitated and pressed a kiss to the top of my hair. “Cosima might have suggested it.”

My heart stuttered. I knew Cosima was perceptive, but how much had she surmised about my relationship with Sinclair? Could she possibly know?

“Come on Cinderella, you’ll be late for the ball.”

Sebastian gently pulled me from his arms, placed the candy on the side table and locked up the apartment with his spare key.

We traveled in Sebastian’s town car, a luxurious Bentley with cream leather interior that still retained its new car smell. His driver, a short stocky man with vibrant orange hair, greeted me in a thick Scottish accent before Sebastian put up the privacy screen.

He opened the flask, took a long swig and passed it to me, watching me with narrowed eyes as I swallowed a burning mouthful.

“You are so different, bambina.” His voice held only the faintest trace of Italy, a whisper that suggested he was foreign but gave no indication of his nationality unless you were familiar with the sounds of Naples.

“So are you.”

He leaned back in his seat, slinging an arm over the ledge above the in-car bar. His thick black hair waved across his bronze forehead and accentuated the pure gold of his eyes. He was so handsome but the way he held his mouth, even to smile, was off, crooked in a way that might have been sexy to some but to me just seemed sad. There were so many secrets between my family members that it seemed impossible we could ever regain our childhood closeness.