The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

“Cosima–” Elena said.

“No. I do not want to talk about this. I’m fine. Nothing was done against my will.”

“What can you mean?” Mama asked.

My eyes snapped to Sinclair and the same horrified understanding dawned in his eyes.

“I liked what was done to me, understand?” Cosima explained haughtily. Her chin jutted forward like an arrogant boxer’s, daring someone to hit her with censure. “These are reminders of pleasure, not abuse. It is no concern of yours anyway, but especially because these,” she bared her bruised wrists, “do not concern me.”

Awkward silence reigned at the table as her meaning sunk in. Despite my own experience with mild pain in the bedroom, the livid color of her markings scared me. Sinclair had never deliberately hurt me, his spankings were just firm enough to entice, and I couldn’t imagine true pain ever entering into our partnership. The idea of Cosima brutally bound as she must have been to incur those bruises made me angry despite myself.

“I will kill him,” Sebastian growled.

“You will not. You cannot find him and I do not want to choose between you or him,” Cosima retorted calmly. “Now, if we are done discussing my sex life, I think we should all get back to this delicious treat, hmm?”

I was surprised when Savannah Richardson was the one to clear her throat and swallow a large mouthful of tiramisu. “It really is delicious.”

There was a smattering of agreement from Cage, Santiago and I before everyone decided to take her lead and tuck into the cake.

I was so concentrated on acting normally that it took me a moment to notice the tension between Elena and Sinclair. She had removed her hand from his and angled her body fairly obviously away from him. As for him, his face was immobile, his body perfectly rigid. He was furious.

Finally, after a few minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jesus, Elena, I’m not going to bite.” He reached over to tug her seat closer to his once again.

Elena flinched.

“For fuck’s sake,” Sinclair swore, his face morphing into intense disgust. “I’m not a monster, Elena. I didn’t do that to your sister.”

“No,” she murmured, genuine fear in her eyes. “But you could have. You like that kind of thing.”

“I do not,” he roared, heedless of the half dozen other people at the table. “I have never hurt a woman like that in my life. I would never do that to you.”

“Only because I don’t allow it,” Elena whispered.

Sinclair pushed to his feet, his face slack with horror as he stared down at his partner. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt, faced with a girlfriend who was disgusted by his sexual proclivities and who flagrantly denounced them in front of her family. I was just as horrified by Cosima’s confession as the rest of them and I could even vaguely understand Elena’s irrational terror, but to fight with him like that in front of other people? I shuddered with sympathy and revulsion.

“I am not Christopher,” Sinclair said softly, after a long minute of silently staring down at her. She still didn’t face him. “I am not that man and I have never treated you with any degree of violence. I worshipped you, Elena, and still it is not enough.”

He sighed, his hand lifting to tug at a lock of hair that was no longer there. “All these years and I still disgust you. I, for one, am tired of it.” He stared at her, waited for her to respond, but she only stared off into the distance. Finally, he turned to the rest of the table and smiled thinly. “I’m sorry for disrupting dessert but if you’ll excuse us, I think Elena and I need to be alone.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Daniel.” Elena straightened, suddenly remembering herself, her aversion to drama even though she was so often the cause of it. “Everyone, please stay and finish the cake. It’s Thanksgiving for goodness sake.”

Everyone remained seated, paralyzed by the frozen air between Elena and Sinclair.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Of course, stay and enjoy the cake. I have business at the office, so I have to go but,” Sinclair tried to smile but the result was more of a grimace, “please, stay and enjoy.”

Without another word, he crossed to the front door, unhooked his overcoat and left, closing the door softly behind him. All heads swung from the closed door to Elena, finding her dark eyes filled with tears.

“Oh Elena,” Cosima scolded softly. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“You don’t understand,” she tried to explain.

“No, I think we do,” Cage said, standing up to look directly down into Elena’s face. “You are a coward, Elena Lombardi, and you do not even try to hide it well.”

She opened her mouth on a gasp but Cage was already bending down to k

iss Mama on the cheek and say his goodbyes. I accepted a kiss and a shoulder squeeze from him as well before he was out the door, Santiago following quickly in his wake.