The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

Despite the distractions, it sucked not having someone to talk to about Sinclair. I knew where to find Candy now and the temptation to make contact with her was strong, but I decided it wasn’t fair to drag her into my mess, especially not when she worked with Sinclair. And I was convinced that he had told no one about the horrific connection we had. Which was why I was both suspicious and thrilled when I received a call on my new cell phone from Cage late one Friday afternoon as I was exiting the gallery.

“How’s my beautiful European?” he asked into my shocked silence.

I cleared my throat and found myself looking around the busy street conspicuously, as if even talking to Sinclair’s best friend was a crime. “It’s good to hear from you, Cage, but how did you get my number?”

There was a pause and my heart clenched in worry before he laughed. It was such a familiar and infectious noise that I found myself smiling.

“Sin might have slipped up a bit a few days ago and you know me, I couldn’t lay it to rest until I found you so,” I could hear the triumphant smile in his voice, “here we are.”

“As good as it is to hear your voice, I don’t think Sinclair, er, Daniel, would like it very much if he knew we were talking.”

“That’s probably true,” he mused and even though I knew I was right, disappointment settled in my chest. “Which is why we won’t tell him about it.”

“Cage…”

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. I’m starving. Meet me for an early dinner?”

“Cage—”

“Génial, there is a really great French bistro near the gallery. I’ll meet you there in fifteen.”

He rattled off the name and address before I could protest and hung up the phone.

I stared at the slim piece of technology for a few minutes, debating the pros and cons of meeting Cage for lunch. On the one hand, Sinclair would be furious if he ever found out, and it was definitely not fair of me to be seeing his best friend when we had agreed to stay out of each others lives as much as possible. But on the other, I was desperate to talk to someone about him and I didn’t doubt Cage’s sincerity or ability to lie to Sinclair.

Before I had even fully made up my mind, I looked up to find myself in front of the intimate French restaurant. Just as I was about to chicken out, I noticed the crowd of young women next to the entrance and the lovely sound of Cage’s heavily accented but perfect English. Their bodies parted enough to reveal him in all his superstar glory; using his white teeth, deeply tanned skin, long braided hair and formfitting leather pants to their distinct advantage.

He noticed me shyly lingering a few feet away and his bad boy grin stretched into a true smile. Excusing himself quickly from the giggling mass of breasts and hips, he strode my way. Giddiness and genuine pleasure propelled me forward, sending me walking and then running into his arms.

He chuckled into my hair as he caught me and squeezed me tight. “It’s good to see you too, Elle.”

I pulled away, blushing with embarrassment, which made him laugh again.

“It’s good to see you just the same as ever.” He winked and threw an arm around my shoulders to usher me into the cool interior.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I secretly delighted in the feel of Cage’s arm around my shoulder, the security it afforded me, and the comfort, as we stepped into the trendy restaurant filled with the crème of New York society. The hostess smiled warmly at him and ushered us immediately to a table against the far wall. I was grateful too that he remained silent until we were seated.

“I hear you are settling in well,” he began, but his eyes sparkled as if he were a kitten toying with a mouse before pouncing.

He sat easily in the chair, slouched slightly with his leather jacket open to reveal a tight grey t-shirt embossed with the name of his band in uppercase black letters. The end of his thick, perfectly mussed braid hit his sternum and his slashing brows covered large, almond shaped eyes that denoted him as something other than purely Caucasian. His body was huge, surpassing six feet by numerous inches, and the hand that tapped out a tune on the table was large and powerful. I almost snorted at my former analogy. Cage was nothing like a kitten.

“Oh, what leads you to say that, Cage?” I asked with a small smile because I had honestly missed his games. “In fact, if I remember correctly, I never gave you any of my information.”

“I have my ways, Giselle.” He winked and broke into a wide grin when I laughed. “Just as you have yours.”

My smile dissolved into a sigh. “Sure, the ways of a freaking adulterer.”

Cage’s laughter prompted the tables closest to us to look our way but my charming companion waved them away with a smile. “So hard on yourself, Elle. As they say, it takes two to tango.”

“In this case, there were too many people on the dance floor,” I muttered, playing with the short hem of my purple dress. Sinclair had loved me in purple; he once said it was the color of my scent. I swallowed hard and put on my auto smile for Cage. “I hope you didn’t ask me to lunch to talk about him.”

“No,” he spoke carefully. “Not exactly.”

The waitress chose that moment to take our drink orders and I waited impatiently for Cage to stop flirting with her. His eyes twinkled as he did so and I knew he took some satisfaction from annoying me.

When he was finished, he turned to me again. “You know, we have never spoken my language together.”

“Non, je ne savais pas si tu l’aimeras,” I said.