The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

“When Cosima came into my life she settled herself in it, dragged the rest of your family into my life in a way that was intimate and permanent. I met Elena but by that time, the idea of family had disappeared and in its place was obligation. We were suited; we shared the same interests, enjoyed each other’s conversation and I found her attractive. But my heart wasn’t truly in it because I had stopped using that muscle when my parents died. Honestly, I was happy never to use it again.”

I watched Giselle’s lips tighten. It could have been discomfort at the thought of my feelings for Elena or, more likely, it could have been because those very feelings made her soft heart sad, that I had thought love was made like that and that Elena had too.

“So, still, no family.”

Elle’s silver eyes were wet with tears.

“Then you.” I paused, because how could I properly explain how profound her entry into my life had been? This was why people recited poetry. It was easier to steal words than come up with my own. “I fought it. We both know, I fought it. But I knew from the moment I said goodbye to you on the plane that even if I never saw you again, my life was no longer enough. I needed family. I needed love and a woman who was wholly mine. Now, in the span of five months, against so pretty impossible odds, I have one. You gave that to me, Elle, and I cannot express how fucking grateful I am of that.”

I smoothed a thumb over the tears that slid down her cheeks and into her hair, watching as her lips trembled and her eyes shone. She was so pretty I felt it in my chest.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” she admitted. “It was so beautiful, anything I say will just sound stupid.”

I grinned at her. “Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know. This baby you’re giving me means the world to me.”

“Me too. And obviously, I will love him or her no matter what, but I really hope we have a Sinclair lookalike on our hands.”

Then I kissed her, because there was no other thing I could do.

Chapter Twenty.

Sinclair

Things were moving quickly.

Thank God.

I was tired of the subterfuge, of the games and the back and forth over something I knew in my fucking bones was eternal. Everything was falling into place, Giselle was pregnant and her showing at my own art gallery was just around the corner. The nonsense over the Paulsons sexual proclivities and my affair with Giselle had ceased to matter to the crème de le crème of New York City society (not that I cared when it had). There were only three things that needed to get in line in order for me to deliver Giselle her happily ever after.

One of them, the question of our legal union, I was already orchestrating with the help of Cage and Candy. I wanted to include Cosima but as she had promised Elle at our pseudo house warming party, both she and Alexander Davenport had disappeared without any way to contact them. It was hard not to feel anger that she would put the family through that after everything they had been through with her accident but the crushing worry we all felt, myself included, dominated the irritation. I hoped desperately that she was safe and was using any means necessary to secure the information, both for my own peace of mind and Giselle’s.

I hoped I wasn’t overstepping by essentially planning everything about our wedding. Most girls dreamed their entire lives of their wedding day and all of its details but I figured my woman wasn’t one of those girls, she was too busy surviving to think about her future, too busy dreaming of the fantastical to focus on her own desires.

So, I was a man planning his own elopement. As unconventional as it was, it was also surprisingly fun. Especially picking out her wedding dress, a creamy collection of lace and weave that would look astounding on her generous curves, against all that flaming hair.

I had called Sebastian, who was on location somewhere in the California desert to film a movie about outlaws, to ask his permission. It was an outdated practice and one that I personally found fairly misogynistic but I knew the Lombardi clan was close knit and old-school enough to find my gesture both charming and necessary.

Our conversation went something like this.

“Hello?”

“Sebastian, I hope you are well. I’m calling to ask you a rather serious question, if you have a moment.”

Pause.

“I have a moment.”

“Good. I would like to ask for your blessing to marry Giselle.”

Another pause.

This one longer.

Then, quietly, “Are you sure you have the right sister now?”