Page 39 of Sins of a King

“There’s something going on between you and our boss, isn’t there?” she asked gently, not at all like she was prying or judging.

“I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re engaged to Jake, so there’s a good chance you’ll tell him, and we all work together. I can’t have my private life all over the club.”

“I get everything you’re saying,” she began, “but I need to point something out to you. Every time you both are in the same room together, everyone can tell something is going on between you two.”

My eyes widened. “Are people talking?”

Alia nodded. “Talking, speculating, drawing their own conclusions.”

“What are they saying?”

“Most people think you’re just a piece of ass.”

“But you don’t,” I guessed.

She shrugged. “His eyes follow you. Everywhere you go. But not just in thisI have to get into her pantskind of way.”

“What kind of way?” I whispered.

“Like he’s under a spell and he’s compelled to watch you.”

“Do you really think Flynn Campbell is the kind of man that would…I don’t know, let a woman in?”

Alia looked thoughtful. “He laughs now. He never used to laugh.”

It wasn’t enough. I knew next to nothing about the mysterious man. He never opened up, never shared. That wasn’t the kind of partner I hoped for. It wasn’t the kind of partner I could build a future with.

I scrambled up from the couch and set my water aside. “Can we go through the routine again? I think I almost have it.”

A few nights later, I met Ash for dinner at our favorite Italian place. The weather was perfect for a glass of red wine and a bowl of pasta. Autumn in New York was magical—the leaves changed and so did the wardrobes. It was all slouchy sweaters and corduroy. Food became all about warmth and comfort.

“Another glass of wine?” Ash asked, gesturing to both our empty glasses.

I shook my head. “Nah, I’ve got rehearsal tomorrow. I don’t want to be hungover.”

She smiled at the waiter and ordered another glass for herself. “So, are you liking the dancing?”

“Yeah, Alia is a good teacher.”

“Have you told Flynn you’re learning how to dance?”

“No. Not yet.”

The waiter brought Ash her glass of wine and then asked if he could clear our dinner plates. I sat back as I waited for him to leave, observing Ash and noting her unusual melancholy mood. It took a lot to bring Ash down, and I gathered she was still dealing with the repercussions of her actions and the end of her engagement. I decided to distract her.

“So, Andrew showed up outside my apartment the other day.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re serious? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I just couldn’t think about it. Because every time I think about it, I get mad at Andrew, but I don’t just get mad at him—I get mad at myself.”

“Why?”

“For the way I let him treat me all those years. The emotional distance—”