The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

How was I supposed to respond to that, anyway?

Well, Sinclair, I love you and the thought of spending the rest of my life seeing you with my sister, loving her, starting a family with her… I forcibly swallowed the sob that rose in my throat. No, of course I couldn’t say that to him. Not only was he dating my sister, but even when I had bared my soul to him our last night in Mexico, he remained stoic. It was clear that he wanted to resolve the situation as quickly and cleanly as possible. I wondered, with sudden dread, if he would suggest I move back to Paris.

His lips flat-lined as he stared at me. “Why did you sneak out that morning?”

“It seemed like the easiest option,” I muttered, suddenly embarrassed by my flight, especially in light of the fact that he was constantly questioning my maturity.

“I see.” His words landed heavily on my ears. “Well, if you want things to be easy, Giselle, I have nothing to offer you but avoidance. Is that what you want? To coexist in this family, see each other at dinners and birthdays, always ignoring the chemistry between us?”

No! My mind screamed, but I only shook my head slightly. “That does seem like the best option.”

My eyes were clouding but for a brief second, I thought I caught a flash of disappointment cross his stern features. But before I could double check, Sinclair was back in control. He nodded curtly and leaned back in his throne.

“Fine. You will deal exclusively with my business partner then, and we will limit our interactions to polite small talk at family functions. Obviously, we will keep what happened in Mexico between us.”

“I don’t have anyone to tell.”

The corner of his firm mouth softened momentarily. I straightened my shoulders before he could take pity on me.

“Well, thank you for making this as simple as it can be.” I stood up and smoothed my slightly shaking hands down my skirt, aware of his gaze taking in my every movement. “I just want to finish by apologizing for my behavior in Mexico. I knew you were involved and even when you tried to leave me, I threw myself at you.” I smiled slightly, black humor twisting my lips. “Maybe we even deserve this.”

I heard his carefully controlled breathing but I didn’t have the strength to look up at him before I turned to make my way out of the office. My hand was on the door, my damp palms almost slipping off the handle, when

I felt him behind me. I tried to swallow the cry bubbling up from my chest but a strangled moan escaped from my clamped lips.

“Oh, Elle.” He sighed.

His hands clamped gently around my shoulders and slowly turned me around to face him. I kept my eyes trained on the floor, taking in his polished leather loafers. I knew if I looked up into his handsome face, I would lose it. He waited for my gaze before sighing and when he didn’t get it, carefully, as if I was made of tissue paper, he wrapped me in his arms. My head was tucked under his chin, my cheek pressed to the fabric of his blue button up and I could feel his heartbeat, slow and measured, beneath my touch. His scent overwhelmed me and the feel of his hard lines cushioned by my curves reminded me of every touch and tryst we had shared in Mexico. My heart trembled, my resolve crumbling, until finally I shifted in his hold so that I could press my arms around his lean waist. We both let out another sigh as we melted into the embrace and though it was just a hug, it was the most heartrending embrace I had ever experienced. My tears stained his suit jacket but I knew he wouldn’t care.

This is going to be so hard, I thought. Sinclair’s arms tightened around me and I realized that I had spoken aloud.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You promised me you would.” I laughed weakly and tried to put some distance between us but he only let me pull back slightly so that one hand could tilt my chin up to met his gaze. Those blue eyes burned into me, making me shiver.

“Tell me this is what you want, Elle.” His voice was hoarse.

Could he possibly want to be with me too? I allowed myself to think for one insane, amazing second.

“No,” I murmured, honestly, “but I’m not willing to ruin my sister’s life.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And if it wasn’t your sister you were hurting, what would you do then?”

I shook my head adamantly and tugged myself out of his grasp. “It is. There is no point in pretending otherwise.”

This time, he let me open the door and I was already halfway down the hall when his voice followed me.

“I’ll miss you.”

I didn’t turn around to let him see how freely my tears fell so I just paused and whispered, unsure if he could even hear me, unsure if I even wanted him to, “Me too.”

Chapter Five.

We managed to avoid each other for two and a half weeks. It’s amazing how productive my period of misery became. Almost every day, I made an effort to paint or walk around the city with my camera and, coupled with long conversations and hours of reconnecting with the twins and Mama, I was able to maintain my façade as a content, single girl.

If Cosima noticed my misery at home, the effort it took me to rouse myself in the morning, the times my eyes unfocused as I was tugged into the current of my memories with Sinclair, she didn’t say anything. She had always been perceptive but I suspected she wasn’t willing to talk to me about my private life because she wasn’t ready to speak about hers. She spent very little time at the apartment and sometimes when she arrived home, she seemed hollow; her beautiful eyes like gold lame over her turmoil.

I also met with Sinclair’s DS Galleries business partner, surprised to find an incredibly friendly woman waiting for me at the chic French bistro where we had scheduled to meet. She was one of the most beautiful older women I had ever met, with fine light blonde hair that softened her handsome face and large tilted eyes like a cat. Despite her inherent glamour, she was extremely well versed on the New York City art scene and the tight ball of insecurity I felt about my lack of artistic abilities loosened under the weight of her professional wisdom. Eddie, the pretty Asian receptionist that I had met the day of my confrontation with Sinclair, was often present at our discussions and I found their odd couple chemistry, Ms. Prim and Proper and witty, coolly bored Eddie, refreshing.