Page 35 of A Taste like Sin

His fingers sink into my hair, finding my scalp. “And I’ll give it to you. But first…” He pivots,

guiding me toward the open door to the back seat. “You need rest. I won’t take no for an answer, so

don’t resist just this once. ¿Sí?”

Despite my pathetic little pleas, I nod. “Okay.”

I let him control me.

Just this once.

CONTRARY TO DAMIEN’S WISHES, I CAN’T SLEEP IN SPITE OF THE EXQUISITE QUALITY OF THE BED AND

its luxurious sheets. I toss and turn for hours before eventually crawling off the mattress in defeat. I

manage to shower at least, and I call Diane shortly before midnight.

“No change,” she tiredly conveys. “And if you went by the house…”

“I’m sorry.” I clench the fingers of my free hand, wincing as the nails dig into my palm. “I just—”

“It’s okay,” she says over me. “Don’t worry about the damage. I’ve taken care of it. Just get some

sleep, darling.”

But I’m not tired.

I’m too damn hollow.

I hear him first, rounding the hallway beyond my room. His assured, slow steps betray just how well

he has the layout memorized, though I doubt he’s the type to intrude upon a sleeping woman without an

invitation. No, I bet he heard me first, aware of me as much as I am of him.

When I turn to watch him appear in the doorway, the mug of steaming liquid in his hand confirms it.

Wordlessly, I approach him and accept the beverage offering: coffee, made to my preference. It’s a

gesture that conveys more than kindness: it’s an acknowledgment of the obvious. I need to be awake.

“You brought these with you,” he says, revealing something slender clutched in his other hand: the file

from Heyworth’s office.

“I’m sure you had Julio read them to you,” I blurt—but I didn’t intend to sound so hostile. “Thank

you,” I add, trying again. “But it’s just trash. In fact, I should throw it away.”

I reach for the file.

He doesn’t extend it. “Trash,” he murmurs, deceptively soft. With barely concealed interest, his

fingers stroke the worn pages poking beyond the edges of the folder. “Your past. The truth you seek.

The answers he hid from you. You call that trash? No, I don’t think so.”

Suddenly drained, I sip from the coffee and wander to the mattress, slumping onto the very edge.