Page 50 of A Taste like Sin

his damn instructions to the T? I listened for him. Performed for him. Bared myself to him.

And the bastard can’t even pat me on the back for a job well done.

Damn it.I hate what uncertainty does to me when it comes to him. It nibbles, chewing at my nerves in

a way disappointing Heyworth never did. Wearing a mask for my father was a superficial game—this

one has gone deeper. Too deep.

My cheeks sear as I linger in the foyer, debating whether or not to even stay. Could I face him? Let

him laugh:Silly Juliana, it was all a game. You gave me plenty of fodder to sell to the tabloids,

however. Gracias.

I turn for the door and brace my hand on the doorknob—but I don’t know what makes me release it in

the end. Maybe pride. I won’t give him the satisfaction of running this time. I’ll meet him head-on.

Because even if this was some cruel, sick form of humiliation…

I don’t regret it.

The thought gives me the strength to march into my room, my head held high like the bastard’s

watching. Maybe he is—listening anyway. He can hear me laugh in defiance of his goddamn mind

games. He can hear me…

Gaspas I leave the monotone color scheme of his suite and enter a world of roses. Beautiful, swollen

budding roses in more colors than I have considered possible. Natural. They cover nearly every

available surface, spilling from vases or in petals scattered over the bed and the floor. In the midst of

it all is a silver box perched on one of the pillows. An ivory card lies beside it.

I pick up the card first with trembling fingers. All it contains is a slash of elegantly penned script:You

were exquisite.

Not quite the reaction one would expect when paired with cold, disappearing silence.

Intrigued, I set the card aside and turn my attention to the silver box. It’s thin, delicately crafted, and

when I lift the lid to reveal what’s inside it, it takes every muscle I possess to keep from dropping it.

Lying on a bed of red silk is a thin silver chain suspending a single perfectly round pearl.

And I know before I even run my finger along the edge of it that it’sthepearl.

Our pearl.

I put it on, shivering as it settles between my breasts. So delicate…

And yet so dangerous.

So damning.