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“C’mon, Sin. I—”

“Get out now before I call the police. And don’t bother showing up on Monday.”

“Wait. What?”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Sinclair took him by the collar and marched him down the steps.

Meanwhile, I tried to get my bearings. I felt completely out of sorts, scared, violated, disgusted—and yet also relieved that Sinclair had been my hero.

It wasn’t the first time.

Part of me wanted to blame him—he’d put me in harm’s way of a sexual predator who’d been working for him for what I guessed was quite some time, considering he was a member of Sinclair’s senior staff. He’d also made me wear this stupid uniform, giving that guy the idea that I was there for sexual reasons.

So I was humiliated too…and I just wanted to go to bed.

Soon, I was in my room and I took off the uniform. If I’d had my way, I would have tossed it in the trash, but I knew that would likely violate the vandalism clause. I took a quick shower to get that man’s filthy touch off my skin and then took off all my makeup before letting my hair down. I was still wearing a robe when I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

I was certain it couldn’t be that man again. It was likely Sinclair—and if he was going to say anything nasty to me, like wanting to blame me for his disgusting employee, I was going to quit on the spot and tell him to do what he had to do.

This had not been part of the deal.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Sinclair.”

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Not only did his voice sound concerned, but his words were the exact opposite of what I’d expected—so I crossed the room and unlocked the door.

The expression on Sinclair’s face said it all—he felt bad about what had happened. “Did he hurt you?”

“I have some bruises on my arms—but they’ll fade.”

“I’m sorry. This was my fault.”

What? Sinclair Whittier was sorry? And, more than that, I knew he was being sincere. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. Danny’s crossed the line before and I didn’t nip it in the bud because he’s an excellent employee. But what he did tonight…” He shook his head, his eyes focused on the ground. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want to restore your trust. Danny’s gone. I fired him—and the mansion’s locked up, so you have nothing to worry about…and I want to assure you that will never happen again.”

The contrite expression on his face changed him in my eyes. I had never expected to see anything like it on a Whittier…and it simply reminded me why I had been thinking so many inappropriate thoughts about him lately. Almost unable to help myself, I touched his cheek, wanting to pull his eyes to mine. “I do forgive you.”

It worked. He looked straight at me and our eyes searched each other’s. His pupils dilated and it was as if my mind had read an ancient signal encoded in my genes. My heart started thumping in my chest and I was covered in goosebumps, anticipating whatever would come next.

And then his lips crashed into mine—and I gladly took him in.

My entire brain lit up with fireworks, electric and neon, as his tongue entered my mouth as if claiming what was his. Even with the faintest hint of alcohol, I could taste him, his essence, and I wanted more. As his fingers wound into my hair, my arms slid around him, enjoying the feel of his rigid muscles underneath the soft cotton shirt.

And my pussy grew wet. That was still such a foreign feeling and yet I knew it was natural.

As much as I vowed I hated Sinclair Whittier…I did not hate this. And I hoped deep inside that he would open my robe, would take me right here and now.

When he pulled away, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But his deep blue eyes seemed tortured, unsure. “I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have.”

“But—”

“Have a good night, Annalise.”

As he strode down the hall to his bedroom, I realized that he’d called me by my first name again. But what the hell had just happened?

I touched my lips, still feeling his against mine, his cologne still in my nose. My body could still feel him against me.

Now I knew for certain that I did want him. I wanted him badly. And, somewhere deep inside himself, he felt the same way.

That night, we crossed a thin line—and, after his sumptuous kiss, I wasn’t sure if I was beginning to love him or if I hated him even more.