Page 44 of Sweet Sinners

Chapter thirty-seven

Cali

I sit at my desk, shifting in my chair as a delicious soreness reminds me exactly how Connor and I spent our night.

Most of the marks he left are hidden beneath layers of professional clothing, but I feel every one of them—like secret brands burned into my skin, whispering mine, mine, mine .

With Connor, one round is never enough. Last night was proof of that, and I’m still feeling it today.

But when I glance back at my calendar, satisfaction fades into irritation. Two important meetings are missing, and they sure as hell didn’t vanish by accident.

"Anna," I call sharply, irritation already simmering beneath my skin.

She walks in, her eyes flicking over me before a sly smile appears. "Someone had a good weekend."

I don't smile back, my voice cool and clipped. "We're not discussing my weekend."

"Oh, come on," Anna teases, tilting her head. "We always used to dish about our fun with boys."

"Used to," I say firmly, meeting her eyes, letting my tone slice deeper.

"Right now, I've got too much shit going on to play guessing games with you.

You've made it clear lately that we aren't friends—just coworkers.

I don't have the energy to keep chasing you, Anna, so let’s keep it strictly business. "

Her smile fades instantly, eyes widening, clearly caught off-guard by my bluntness. "What's wrong with you today?"

"I don't know, maybe I'm wondering why two critical meetings are missing from today's schedule? Meetings I confirmed with you on Friday. Care to explain that?"

Anna’s face goes pale, fingers frantically tapping on her tablet. "Those meetings aren't until tomorrow."

"They're today," I say firmly, leaning forward, pinning her with my stare. "Monday doesn't sound like Tuesday. So tell me, are you deliberately sabotaging me, or are you just losing your touch?"

She flushes, anger replacing her earlier amusement. "I'm not sabotaging you!"

"Then explain how these two crucial meetings became 'free time' on my schedule. My father wouldn’t tolerate this, and neither will I." My voice hardens, frustration seeping through every word.

She scoffs bitterly, shaking her head. "Everyone here talks about him like he was some saint. He wasn't."

"What did you say?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended, heart jolting painfully. I must have heard her wrong .

Anna’s lips curl into something ugly, eyes narrowed, shoulders tight with bitterness she’s clearly been holding back too long.

"Your dad," she repeats slowly, like she's savoring each word.

"He was a dick around here. I thought you'd be different.

You used to care about people just because they were people—even when they messed up.

" Her tone darkens, dripping venom. "Guess the job changes everyone. "

Shock ripples through me, leaving me speechless for half a second. Then anger floods in, hot and heavy, tightening my jaw. "What exactly are you trying to say, Anna?"

She crosses her arms tight across her chest, eyes blazing. "Maybe if you're going to assume the worst about me, I'll do the same about you."

"Excuse me?" My voice sharpens, a warning clear as I lean forward, heart hammering in my chest. "Is that a threat?"

"Depends," Anna shoots back, stepping closer to my desk, eyes bright and defiant.

"Dean's been talking a lot lately—moping around because you rejected him. Plus, you’ve got that criminal living in your house. If I wasn’t so busy fixing your schedule, maybe I'd start wondering if you're fucking your stepbrother. "

I freeze. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I’m afraid she’ll hear it. I feel heat crawling up my neck, my nails digging painfully into my palms beneath the desk, but I refuse to show her weakness. She’s fishing, trying to catch me off guard—and I can't let her.

"So you're willing to fabricate a scandal about me having consensual sex, just to dodge responsibility for sabotaging my work schedule?" I ask, forcing my voice to stay steady, though I feel exposed, furious. My eyes narrow sharply. "Is that what you're saying, Anna?"

She flinches, nostrils flaring, but doesn't look away. "Is it a lie, Cali?" she snaps back, her voice quivering slightly with barely restrained anger .

I stand slowly, palms flat on the desk, leaning forward until only inches separate us. My voice drops, icy and firm. "The only truth I see is that you’ve become a terrible employee. You're fired."

She blinks, face going pale, eyes widening. "Cali, wait—I didn't mean—"

"Didn’t mean what?" I interrupt harshly, cutting through whatever excuse she tries to offer.

"Since I took over, you've repeatedly made me late for important meetings, hidden critical tasks from me, and you’ve been far more concerned with office gossip than your actual job.

" I shake my head slowly, disappointment bleeding into my tone, matching the betrayal I feel. "I tried to see you outside work, to fix whatever broke between us—but you put up a wall every single time. I don’t have the time or energy to break down walls right now, Anna. I’m done. "

Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her fingers tremble around her tablet, but the flash of panic quickly shifts back to anger. "Cali, don't do this," Anna warns, voice low, eyes narrowing into slits. "You won't like what happens next."

"Start whatever rumor you want," I say coldly, my voice steady despite my racing pulse. "I've already proven I can handle it. I've proven I’m capable. Tell me, Anna—what exactly have you proven since I got here?"

She falters, her mouth opening and closing as her face flushes deep crimson. "I—I’ve done plenty! I—"

"You've coasted," I snap, voice rising with frustration.

"That's it. You've skated by on friendship and excuses.

Something is seriously wrong here, and you don't have to tell me what it is—I doubt you would anyway.

" I tilt my head, watching as she shifts nervously, her eyes darting toward the office door.

"But I have a feeling if I start digging into how the embezzlement story leaked to the press before it ever reached me, or how every other rumor started circling this office, your name—and your bank account—might suddenly get very interesting. "

Anna’s jaw clenches, eyes wide with shock before narrowing again with fury. Her fingers shake as she grips her tablet tightly. "This company owes me," she hisses through gritted teeth, stepping closer, shoulders rigid, hands trembling with barely restrained anger. "Your father owed me, and you—"

"I don't care," I interrupt, tone icy, eyes locked on hers. "If this is the kind of ‘work’ you did for my dad, then he grossly overpaid you. Business comes first here, Anna. Fail to do your job, and you lose it. I’ll give you a reference if you want, but I wouldn’t suggest applying as anyone else’s assistant. "

Her eyes flash dangerously, nostrils flaring, body stiffening as her voice drops low, venom dripping from every syllable. "Last chance, Cali."

"For you to walk out of here without security? Absolutely," I reply calmly, reaching toward the intercom, letting my fingers hover pointedly above the button. "Your call—quietly or with an audience?"

Anna’s expression twists bitterly. She whirls around, raising her voice so everyone nearby can hear. "Fine. Then I'll get a lawyer, since you're firing me for outing that you’re fucking your stepbrother."

A few heads turn our way, whispers starting almost immediately. My cheeks heat, but I shove the embarrassment away and force a bored smile onto my lips. Everyone watching quickly averts their gazes, but my eyes narrow back on Anna, whose triumphant expression falters at my calm facade.

"Lawyers require proof, Anna. Something you clearly don’t have," I say coolly, arching an eyebrow .

She sputters furiously, tossing out my father's name, spitting accusations that I'm exactly like him. Her face is a mask of desperation and anger, eyes glistening with the threat of tears she won’t let fall.

But her protests are silenced quickly when two security guards appear at the doorway, quietly stepping inside.

Anna flinches, eyes darting to the men behind her, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Escort Ms. Parrish out," I instruct softly, not looking away until they guide her from my office, her angry threats fading down the hallway.

When she's gone, I sink slowly back into my chair, exhaling a shaky breath and pressing a palm to my forehead.

My pulse pounds loud in my ears, anxiety clawing up my throat.

Under the desk, my fingers tremble as I quickly text Connor, grateful that at least one mystery finally has a name—Anna Parrish.

As I hit send, my heart finally slows to something manageable, and I turn back to the tasks I still owe the company, trying to ignore the whispers outside my door. At least one problem is solved.

My office feels colder after Anna’s gone. It's not logical, but anxiety rarely is.

I spend the morning obsessively checking my phone, waiting for a text from Connor, waiting for something—anything—that says Anna’s the leak and not the murderer. Because there's a difference. A big one. And the thought of not knowing is eating me alive.

My eyes sting from staring at the screen, and when I feel another wave of panic climbing up my throat, tightening like an iron collar, I finally shove away from the desk.

I lock myself in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink, fingers trembling, vision swimming. I can't keep spiraling. I won't.

Before I can overthink it, I pull out my phone and tap out an email to Dr. Anderson.

Can we schedule a session ASAP? I’m struggling. Need to talk soon.

My thumb hovers over send, hesitation gripping me.

No one here sees me like this—weak, fragile.

Everyone in this building looks at me and sees the perfect little CEO doll my father molded, calm and poised under pressure.

They don't know about the panic attacks, the anxiety that claws at my chest, or how deeply loneliness cut through me all those years at boarding school.

Every night I spent alone in a dorm room, telling myself it wasn't rejection—it was preparation.

I exhale slowly and press send. It’s done.

Straightening, I fix my makeup in the mirror, erasing any visible cracks. I’m fine. Or I will be. Dr. Anderson will help pull me back together, just like he did before.

I return to my office, only to realize with frustration that I have no assistant—and no lunch. I pinch the bridge of my nose, exasperation building, when a gentle knock interrupts my thoughts. Dean stands in the doorway, a smile on his face and a tray of sushi in his hands.

"I heard you might need lunch," he offers warmly, eyes searching mine for permission. "Mind if I join you?"

A tiny voice in my head warns me to say no, but I ignore it. He's been kind since I arrived, professional yet friendly, even after I rejected his offer to go on a date. Safe .

"Come in," I say, motioning him inside. "You're a lifesaver. "

He sets the sushi down between us on the desk, easing into the chair across from me, his gaze thoughtful. "I thought you might be rattled after this morning. Anna wasn’t exactly quiet."

I sigh, reaching for a piece of sushi, my fingers trembling slightly. "I'm sure everyone's whispering about it by now."

"Only a little," Dean says carefully, giving me an encouraging smile. "But people talk around here anyway. It’ll blow over."

"Yeah," I murmur absently, glancing at my phone again. Still nothing from Connor.

Dean clears his throat, leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowing with concern. "I have to admit, though...Anna said some things—"

"Anna says a lot of things," I interrupt gently, studying him. "I wouldn't put too much stock in it."

He nods slowly, but his gaze is sharp, almost calculating. "I know. It's just—people talk. And ever since your stepbrother moved back in with you, it’s raised a lot of eyebrows."

My shoulders stiffen instinctively, pulse racing faster. I take another bite to hide the sudden tension. "Connor was cleared, Dean. People should remember that."

He shrugs, picking casually at his food, eyes never leaving mine. "Oh, I'm sure he's innocent. But still, living with a man accused of murder? Aren't you worried how that looks?"

His tone is light, casual—but there's something there, hidden beneath his easy smile. Something sharp, probing.

"I trust him," I say softly, meeting Dean's gaze evenly. "And appearances are the least of my concerns."

He studies me quietly, then nods, his smile returning like it never left. "Fair enough."

Silence settles between us as we finish eating, but it isn't comfortable. Something nags at me, twisted and uneasy. Anna’s words echo back suddenly—Dean moping around, talking too much. Has he always been this inquisitive? This interested?

"I should get back to work," I say abruptly, hoping he gets the hint. "Thanks again for the sushi."

"Anytime," he replies smoothly, standing from his chair and turning to leave, but pausing in the doorway, his eyes glinting strangely. "Be careful, Cali. Sometimes it's the people closest to you who cause the most damage."

The words feel like ice sliding down my spine. I watch as Dean walks away, unease tightening my chest again.

When my phone finally vibrates with a message from Connor, relief floods me—but it doesn't erase Dean's quiet warning or the heavy feeling that I've just missed something critical.

I tell myself I'm just overthinking this, he's being protective and maybe a little jealous after hearing what Anna had to say.

Tonight, Connor and I are definitely finding a new way to unwind—one that has nothing to do with cooking.