Dark Lies (House of Sin 2)

Chapter 15

Amelia

I knock twice before entering his office. Eli’s nowhere to be seen, so I walk around and wait for him to arrive. His bedroom door is shut, but maybe he locked it on purpose because he doesn’t want uninvited guests. And right now, I’m not sure where exactly I stand.

I stroll around and touch the books on the bookcase, finding a curious mix of psychology alongside handwritten ones. I pull one out and flip through the pages, all of them filled with dates and names, along with specific punishments applied. Yikes.

I swiftly put the book back and grab another one, sifting through it. Every page is filled with handwritten text about rules and judgments about what to do in certain situations, such as when the sin is completed and the suffering of the one who did the punishing. The word death somewhere on the page makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

This looks like an heirloom. Is this handed down from generation to generation? When I get to the last few pages, I have my answer. Eli’s handwriting is right there, along with all his punishments, and my name and sin. And on the last page is a symbol marked in blood.

“Doing some light reading, I see.”

His voice makes me spin on my heels, but it’s his form that makes me drop the book entirely. And by form, I mean well-shaped body like an Adonis standing naked right in front of me.

My eyes widen, saliva building in my mouth while my gaze roams over his aptly sculpted torso, the rugged abs underneath, and that V-line that leads to an oh, so delicious…

No, I can’t think about that. Stop it, Amelia.

“Cat got your tongue?” he muses, his brow rising flirtatiously.

I avert my eyes and put a hand in front of my eyes. “My God …”

“God is kind of busy right now,” he says, stepping toward me. “But I’m here if you need something.”

I roll my eyes but force myself to look the other way. Too bad my hand has fingers, and they can’t help split apart to catch a glimpse of that handsome body and that oh my God, did I really have that inside me thing.

He grabs a black turtleneck draped over his chair and throws it on, which is a curious thing to do if you ask me when you don’t even have underwear on. But I don’t think that’s a coincidence. In fact, I’m more inclined to believe he’s giving me a piece of my own medicine.

“It’s not forbidden to look, you know,” he says with a smug smile on his face. “You’ve done it plenty of times before.”

Now I really can’t stop the redness from overtaking my face.

“Principles,” I mutter. “And would you please put something on?”

He suddenly grabs my hand and lowers it. I hadn’t realized he was already this close to me. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because it’s cold,” I hiss. I don’t care if it’s cold. I just know that I’m getting way too hot, and that needs to stop.

“Oh, I’m not cold … far from it, in fact,” he jokes, but the rolling sound his voice makes at the end pushes all my buttons. “I think it’s because you can’t stop looking.”

The dirty, full-on smirk that follows makes me want to slap it off his face.

“Fine, then stay naked for all I care,” I retort, and I swiftly walk to the other side of his desk just to get out of the precarious situation I was definitely drifting toward.

I reach for a photograph standing on the edge of the desk. There’s a middle-aged woman on it, and the somber look on her face captures my attention. Something about her eyes is so familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Why did you come to my study?”

A soft squeal leaves my mouth as I spin on my heels again. He’s right behind me, still wearing only that dammed turtleneck, but thankfully, he’s added some briefs to the mix. Phew. “If not to stare at my body.”

I put down the photograph and fold my arms to create some much-needed distance and remind myself he isn’t as delicious as my mind makes him out to be. “I just came to say thank you for letting me see Anna.”

He tilts his head. “You’re welcome.”

I frown, cocking my head. “Okay.”

“What?” He raises his brow.

“Well, you don’t have to be all cocky about it,” I scoff.

He shrugs. “You thanked me. And I like seeing you grateful.” There’s that insufferable smirk again, the one that continues to make my heart gallop, especially when he runs his fingers through his dripping wet hair. But dammit, I promised myself I wouldn’t go there again. He stole my freedom, and with it, he stole my dreams at a happy ever after. I won’t let him claim my heart and my life along with it. He wants to keep me here? Fine, but I’ll be heartless like a stone-cold bitch.