Page 6 of A Taste like Sin

“Is that what you want from me?” I ask.

His silence intrigues me, overriding the ache in my chest—for now. Like a drowning victim presented

with a life rope, I latch onto it.

“Want todoto me, I mean. F-Fuck me in front of a room of people like some kind of pathetic porn—”

“I believe you weren’t paying close enough attention, Ms. Thorne,” he scolds, his lips grazing my

jaw, a whisper of lethally soft flesh. “There is nothing pathetic about that woman. She holds all of the

power in that instance. I would ask you not deride her method to express her empowerment.

However, these excursions are diversions meant to occupy your attention. Nothing more.”

“Diversions.” It’s as if tasting the word out loud unlocks the hidden meaning. Perhaps I ignored it

until now. Here, in his private fantasy club, Heyworth Thorne would never dare follow. In fact, there

is only one way anyone knew where to find us at all, I suspect. “Did Julio direct the police here?” I

ask, referring to his lead bodyguard.

An uncharacteristic grunt escapes him. Then he sighs. “I havefriendsin law enforcement, shall we

say. Your father has been persistent—belligerent, even. To placate him, they threatened to mount a

more…public search. This way, they can be satisfied with seeing you safe and whole. For now. And

the police chief can’t use your association with me as fodder for his son’s political machinations.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And you didn’t warn me?”

“Would you have come?” he inquires. “Would you have stayed?”

“I… Damn him.” Ignoring his question, I refocus my irritation on the one person who deserves it.

“Damn him—”

“But can you blame him? You have been avoiding him for two days.”

“Don’t pretend you care.” Only as the words leave my mouth do I realize how ungrateful they sound.

“I’m sorry. I just mean… After everything he put me through, the silent treatment isn’t the worst

method of revenge I could resort to.”

What are a few days of shunning in comparison to over twenty years of lies? Deception designed to

make me believe my best friend’s killer was an unknown assailant. A specter. A shadow. When all

along…he defended the man in court. He knows his identity. And even now, he has yet to tell me.

All to protect his pride.

“Have you learned anything?” I ask Damien, turning to face him. “About Simon?”

“I’m afraid not.” He shakes his head. “The records are proving harder to track down than expected.