Page 31 of Sin in My Inbox (Sexting Spark #1)

I pushed down the emotions and chatted with her about her upcoming surgery until a nurse came in, reminding us she needed rest. Reluctantly, I left.

But that talk with Mom didn't bring the peace I'd hoped for. Stepping back into the city's chaos, a heavier dread settled over me. That bad feeling didn't fade—it grew worse.

It was subtle, like invisible eyes boring into me, raising goosebumps on my skin. My neck prickled, every pore screaming danger was close.

My stomach churned, bile rising with an eerie sense of foreboding, like my body knew something my mind hadn't caught up to.

Maybe work wasn't a good idea today. I called in sick. Out of nowhere, I craved Dmitri, a raw, primal need like hunger or thirst, overriding all reason. It drove me back to the manor. I knew he'd be working from home, nursing that injury .

When I stepped into the foyer, Dmitri looked up from the sofa, newspaper in hand.

"Back so soon?"

I rushed to him, wrapping my arms around him, pressing my face to his chest. His heartbeat steadied me, easing the knot of unease.

"I'm fine. Just feeling off. Maybe ate something bad."

He touched my forehead. "No fever, but you should get checked out."

He started to stand, but I clung to him like a kid, arms tight around his waist, refusing to let go. In that moment, I just wanted his warmth, his scent, to drown out the uncertain world outside.

Dmitri looked down at me, surprise and amusement flickering in his eyes. "Damn, you're clingy today. Not that I'm complaining, but I'm not about to take advantage of you when you're sick."

Crash! A teacup shattered. The maid who'd just walked in froze, clearly startled by our tangled position on the sofa.

"What are you saying?" My face burned, blood rushing to my cheeks as I clamped a hand over his mouth.

The maid snapped out of it, cleaning up the mess at lightning speed before slipping out, thoughtfully shutting the door behind her.

My face was still scorching. Sure, the manor's staff knew who I was, but I didn't want them catching us like this. Maybe it was because I worked in service too—I could already picture the maids gossiping over lunch, just like we did on breaks.

As I spiraled, a warm, slick sensation hit my palm—Dmitri's tongue, slow and teasing, licking my hand. It sent a jolt through me, like lightning. I yanked my hand back, unable to meet his playful gaze.

"Jerk," I muttered.

Dmitri just raised a brow, pinning me beneath him. "Fair assessment."

He kissed me again, possessive and hungry. I'd meant to ask about Mom's room, but every sweep of his tongue shredded my resolve. I pushed him back just enough to gasp for air, my lungs screaming.

"No, wait, I need to— "

He didn't let up, diving back in, fingers tangling in my hair, holding me in place.

Fine. I'd called him a jerk, and now I was paying for it. His hand slipped under my skirt, roaming with a teasing, heated edge.

"Dmitri…"

I lost track of time in that dizzying haze, his touch erasing everything else. A knock at the door finally snapped us back to reality.

He pulled back reluctantly, brushing my lips. "Fucking delicious."

"Look at what you did to a sick girl," I panted, trying to scowl through the flush on my face.

Dmitri ignored my complaint, calling out, "Come in."

A blond man stepped inside, and I clocked the resemblance to Dmitri instantly—not just in looks, but in that same dangerous aura. He sized me up without a shred of politeness, his gaze sharp enough to cut through me, leaving me feeling exposed, like I had no secrets left.

That stripped-bare scrutiny made my skin crawl. I instinctively leaned away.

I headed upstairs, their low voices trailing behind me. I couldn't make out the words, but the air shifted, heavy with tension.

Dmitri's face hardened in an instant.

Soon, the door shut, and I watched from the balcony as Dmitri and the man left together.

Always so busy. I threw myself onto the bed, still warm with his scent, burying my face in the pillow, greedy for the comfort it offered. But that safety was fleeting. Questions haunted me like ghosts. Was Dmitri behind Mom's upgraded room? Did he know who I really was? And who was that blond guy?

A text notification jolted me out of my spiral. I grabbed my phone—a message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: I know who you are, Avery Carter. Come downstairs.

The words hit like a thunderbolt. Who was this? Everyone in the manor knew me as Ella. How did they know my real name?

I forced myself up, fighting the nausea clawing at my throat. Fear and curiosity warred inside me, pushing me downstairs .

In the garden's depths, a masked figure stood like a specter, dressed in the manor's maid uniform—but not anyone I recognized. She'd been waiting, it seemed, for a long time. When I reached her, she slowly pulled off the mask, revealing a delicate, unfamiliar face.

She brushed back windblown hair, giving me a gentle smile. "Hello, Avery. I'm Ella."

In that moment, my world froze. Time, space, breath—everything stopped. My heart pounded so hard it might burst.

This was it. The moment I'd dreaded. Exposed. Judged. Forced to face every lie I'd told.