Page 26 of Sweet Sinners

Something flickers in his eyes, his expression softening slightly.

"Your work bullshit is important to you, so it matters to me. Besides, it’s nice to deal with problems that don’t require fists and blood.

" His gaze sharpens again, protective, fierce.

"But you’re right about this Dean thing.

You need to be careful. It has to be handled. "

He pushes back from the table, slower now, the weight of the conversation settling over him like armor. "I should get some sleep."

I watch him walk away, my throat tight, an ache spreading deep in my chest. Part of me wants to call him back, to say something, anything , that would make this hurt less.

But I don’t.

And the regret of letting him leave in silence stays with me long after he disappears from view.

I glance between Dean and Mr. Sinclair, tension twisting tight in my shoulders. "Did you make it clear to them?" I press, my voice sharper than intended. "That there's nothing going on?"

Dean’s jaw tightens, his expression guarded. "Yes," he says firmly. "I explained it was purely coincidental, that there's absolutely nothing between us. No dates, no relationship. Anyone hoping for some juicy scandal is wasting their time."

Mr. Sinclair watches him for a long moment, his gaze cold and calculating before turning sharply toward me. "Regardless, this incident has called your impartiality into question. We need to make sure every loose end is tied."

Dean shifts in his seat, frustration radiating from him in waves. "I get why we’re doing this. But damn, it feels like I’m being singled out. "

My eyes lock onto his. "You’re not the target here, Dean. We’re just trying to get ahead of this before it turns into something we can’t control. It's for both our sakes."

Mr. Sinclair raises a brow, leaning back slightly. "You mentioned a friend of yours who’s good at handling online messes, didn't you?"

My stomach tightens at the suggestion, dread pooling at the thought. "I'll talk to my stepbrother," I admit reluctantly. "See if he can help us handle this."

I hate that I have to lean on Connor again, especially for something like this, something messy, something that shouldn't be his problem.

But right now, I don’t really have a choice.

I dial his number from my office phone, setting it to speaker. The line clicks, and Connor’s voice filters through, a rough edge of irritation beneath it.

"I'm a grown-ass man, Cali. If you're checking up to see if I’ve sliced off another finger, don’t bother."

I shut my eyes briefly, embarrassment prickling my skin. "You’re on speaker," I say tightly, heat rising in my cheeks.

A heavy pause settles between us. Then his voice comes again, guarded and low. "Why?"

"Because we’re dealing with that rumor you pointed out." I keep my tone steady, business-like. "I need your friend, the tech guy. I’ll pay him a retainer. Just get me his details."

Connor sighs sharply, clearly annoyed, but there’s resignation there too. "Fine. I’ll text it over."

I soften my voice just a fraction. "Thank you. And please, just be careful with your hand."

There’s another pause, shorter this time, before he mutters grudgingly, "Yeah, yeah. "

The line goes quiet, and I end the call. When I lift my eyes, Dean and Mr. Sinclair are watching me closely, their expressions unreadable.

"He had an accident with his new hobby," I explain, forcing a casual shrug. "If he ends up needing a hospital visit, I have to escort him due to the house arrest conditions, and I’d rather avoid that."

Mr. Sinclair nods slowly, accepting my explanation, but Dean continues studying me, his gaze sharp, assessing.

"You and your stepbrother…" He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You're close?"

I don’t take the bait. Instead, I clear my throat, forwarding the contact information quickly. "Let's get back on track."

They don't push it, and the meeting resumes. But as the day drags on, I can feel the shift, the quiet respect starting to build around me in the building, layer by fragile layer. Now more than ever, I need to make sure everything is in line.

By the time I finally collapse into my office chair, exhaustion weighing heavy in my bones, I let myself release a slow, silent breath.

And then Anna lingers at my door, uncertain.

I glance up, taking in her tense posture, the way she's twisting her hands. "What's wrong?"

She bites her lower lip, clearly wrestling with something before finally stepping inside. "I heard about Connor."

"Yeah." I don’t look up from my paperwork. "What about him?"

She hesitates again, then blurts out what's clearly been gnawing at her. "Aren’t you afraid he’ll hurt you too?"

My pen stops, my heart stuttering in my chest. Slowly, deliberately, I raise my gaze to meet hers. "No, Anna." My voice is quiet but firm, the edge sharp enough to warn her to drop it. "Connor didn’t do it. And once this chaos settles, I’m going to prove exactly who did. "

She’s quiet for a moment, something uncertain flickering across her face.

Then she exhales sharply, stepping closer to my desk.

"Cali, it’s just—" She pauses, her voice dropping lower. "You’re taking on so much. Running the company, dealing with crisis after crisis, looking out for Connor because he can’t leave the property, and now you’re talking about hunting down a killer?

Aren’t you worried you’ll burn yourself out?

Or worse—what happens if you actually find them?

What if they decide to come after you next? "

The question settles heavy between us, a dark, unspoken truth.

Anna pushes forward softly, her eyes filled with concern. "I get it. You want justice. I respect that. But digging around in your father’s past might stir up things you’re not prepared to see. Things you can't unlearn." Her voice softens further. "Are you really ready for that?"

I hold her stare, a familiar ache building in my chest. "I have to be."

Anna studies me quietly for another beat, then nods slowly. "All right. Just promise me you'll be careful."

Then she turns, leaving the room silent and heavy in her wake.

I sink back in my chair, dragging my hand over my face, when my phone buzzes on the desk, lighting up with Connor’s name.

Connor:

You're only one person, Miss CEO. It's okay to let someone help. It's not that hard.

Me:

Maybe. But trusting others means letting go of control, and I'm not great at that.

Don't pretend you are either.

I laugh softly, tiredly, shaking my head at the screen.