Page 24 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)
Boston – Massachusetts
Hazard
More than one month later
I watch my girlfriend’s sensual body wrapped in a short, sexy red dress, and I know I’m not the only one devouring her with my eyes.
The way she walks toward me—like a wildcat, my fiery panther—the woman makes my blood boil.
What’s crazy is that I don’t think she even does it on purpose. It’s not like she’s trying to draw attention to herself.
Amber has this raw, unfiltered sexuality that drives men around her insane.
I’m pretty sure she knows the effect she has on them. She just doesn’t care.
It’s like she’s got a warning sign hanging over her: Look, but don’t touch.
With me, though, she’s shameless, not shy in the least. A whirlwind of pure filth in our bedroom. Hungry to learn, giving me everything, no limits to what happens between the two of us.
When it comes to other men, she’s indifferent. Polite but distant. She doesn’t even look them in the eye unless it’s to put them in their place—something I’ve seen her do more than once in my clubs.
Amber doesn’t need to be defended. She knows how to hold her own when necessary. And for me, the contrast between how she acts in public and who she is in our bed is a total aphrodisiac.
Knowing there’s a part of her that no one else sees? It’s like fuel to my lust.
I’ve never had a partner this sensual, this willing.
Unlike the other women I’ve been with, she doesn’t ask for anything—and that should make me feel at ease.
No-strings-attached sex with a gorgeous woman sounds like paradise.
But sometimes I catch myself wondering whether she’s already planning our ending. I might actually be getting obsessed with it.
With keeping her, I mean.
On the other hand, I’m also sure she’s playing me.
When I get involved with a woman, I always make it clear from the start: the only thing she should expect from me is a casual call.
With Amber, because of how unpredictable our first meeting was, I didn’t label anything. I kept things open, just to see whether I’d eventually get tired of her.
Then yesterday, after apparently being stopped by Roman at the door of my office, she made a point of clarifying the situation to everyone when she told him to move aside, because the only person she had to answer to was her boyfriend. Me.
But even though she let her guard down by labeling our relationship all on her own, I know she’s still far from truly giving herself over.
And even though I’m certain most of what she tells me is a lie, I still can’t send her away.
Sometimes she looks at me with eyes completely devoid of emotion, like she lives in a world no one else has access to.
Thinking about the past?
Or is it the present that weighs on her?
We’ve been together for a couple of months now, and I still know very little about her.
Just two weeks ago, Roman found out she has an older sister.
He’ll bring me a report on this Elodie woman by tomorrow at the latest, and I’m hoping some of the pieces in this complicated puzzle—this woman who sleeps in my bed every night—will finally start to fit together.
I’ve been more patient with her than I’ve ever been with anyone in my life, but I can’t keep going against my nature forever.
She’s hiding too many secrets, and sooner or later, I’ll uncover every last one of them.
Boston
The next day
I check my watch and see there are still ten minutes until I need to leave to meet her.
Amber said she wouldn’t be coming to the club tonight because she had plans for the two of us.
I asked if those plans involved black lace lingerie, but she said tonight was just a normal night. Movies and popcorn.
I’ve never done anything like that before, but then again, that’s a phrase I use a lot when it comes to Amber.
I close my laptop and grab my phone to call the bodyguards and let them know I’m heading out.
After notifying them, I tap the screen again to call her, but right at that moment, Roman walks in, and I toss the phone back onto my desk. “Whatever you have to say, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Amber made plans for us for tonight.”
Roman may not be her biggest fan, but he knows enough about relationships to understand you don’t keep a woman waiting. “This can’t wait, Beau.”
I run a hand through my hair, irritated, and step back into the office. “How long is this going to take?”
Instead of answering, he hands me an envelope.
I walk over to my desk and toss it near my phone. “What’s this?”
“You should see for yourself.”
“I don’t like riddles.”
“It’s not a riddle. But if I tell you what’s in there, I might not live long enough to prove I’m telling the truth.”
“Just tell me what’s inside.”
“Photographs.”
I pull out a stack of photos, but the first one alone is enough to explain why he wanted me to see them before we talked.
“She’s meeting with the Sicilians? When was this taken?”
“A week before she showed up at the Hazard opening in Dallas.”
Cold fury spreads through me as I flip through the images.
Amber, inside a car with my enemy.
“How did you get these?”
“I had Angelo Brambilla under surveillance, just in case. The guy assigned to the job took a while to hand them over. He thought they weren’t relevant.”
Now I have confirmation that nothing between us happened by chance. She was sent by the Sicilians from New Orleans [4] —whose capo [5] just happens to be the uncle of my biggest enemy.