Page 47 of The Sinner’s Desire (The Sinner’s Touch #1)

I drop the phone as if it were a venomous snake about to bite me, and only when my vision blurs do I realize I’m crying.

I don’t know what changed since the last time we talked, but something is very wrong.

Still, if Amos thinks he’s going to break up with me over the phone, then he clearly doesn’t know me well enough.

I don’t know what kind of women he’s been with before me, but I refuse to be sidelined with hints and evasion. He’s going to have to say we’re done to my face.

As soon as I dry my tears, I decide I’m moving out.

I’d already been planning to, but that exchange of texts only sped things up.

I quickly pack my belongings into my suitcases while confirming via text with the realtor that I’ll stop by to sign the contract.

Then I call Theo, asking him to come with me, both to sign the lease and to help me find a hotel for the night—just in case the apartment isn’t immediately available.

Thank God, everything happened fast, and in less than an hour I had the code to open the apartment.

We’re in a cab, on the way to the new place, when Theo finally asks the question I’m sure he’s been holding in since we met earlier. “Lilly, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need you to help me move.”

He stays quiet for a while, which is rare. Theo’s usually upbeat, cheerful—but he seems thoughtful, and I imagine he’s trying to figure out why I’m in such a rush. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to answer that right now because I’m afraid I’ll start crying. We’ll talk about it later, okay? Right now, I just really need help getting settled.”

“You don’t need to say another word. Tears and hot guys always go hand in hand, so something tells me this is about your boyfriend.

It’s lucky the place is already furnished.

I’m inviting myself to stay over the first night.

Here’s the plan: we buy a giant tub of ice cream and eat it while trash-talking men. How’s that sound?”

I laugh, despite the sadness weighing on me.

Theo must’ve been placed in my life by someone upstairs who really likes me.

“Even I couldn’t have come up with a better plan. Yes to everything you just said.”

“Can I give you some advice from someone who’s spent way too long bottling things up? Don’t suffer in silence. You should try yelling and swearing sometimes. A good ‘fuck it’ can be more liberating than years of therapy.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Try it.”

“Who would I say ‘fuck it’ to?”

“No one in particular. How about a simple ‘fuck it’ to a shitty day?”

“That actually sounds like a good idea.”

“Say it.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m waiting.”

I see the cab driver smiling in the rearview mirror.

I think back to my little act of rebellion earlier today—I kind of snuck out past the security guards, leaving through the back door of the building.

Amos doesn’t want me, but he thinks he can still keep an eye on me?

I did leave him a note, though, letting him know I’d rented a place—even though, at that moment, I hadn’t technically signed the contract yet.

I’m an optimist, above all.

And I have pride and self-respect too. I wasn’t about to force my presence in his home. If I’m going to say what I need to say to his face, it’s going to be as an equal—not cornered, with nowhere to run.

I was nervous when I walked into the realtor’s office. Until she handed me the apartment code, I was scared something would go wrong and I’d have to spend another night in their apartment.

After Amos’s responses—colder than the North Pole—I don’t want to be there in case he comes back tonight.

“I never thought you were a coward, Lillyana Ross.”

“You’re such a goof,” I say, laughing and shaking my head, feeling a little less crushed inside. “Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Fuck shitty days! I can handle this.”

“That’s my girl!”

I excuse myself and call Ethan for the thousandth time, without any hope of getting through—so I’m startled when my brother actually answers.

I’m expecting a storm when I tell him about the apartment, but strangely, he doesn’t even blink—he actually supports my decision to rent my own place.

His reaction is so out of character that a little warning light goes off in the back of my mind; I wonder if Amos’s change in attitude has something to do with a conversation between them.

It doesn’t matter. Ethan’s not the one who’s going to end our relationship. We started it, and if it ends, it’ll be between us.

I stare out the window, thinking about Nora’s party tomorrow.

God, I don’t want to go, and now it’s too late to cancel, because my mother said we’d be taking pictures together for a few magazines, to encourage other wealthy families to increase their donations.

We’re sitting in my living room, sharing a tub of pistachio ice cream, laughing like crazy over a ridiculous story Theo just told me about a model who overdid her lip fillers and showed up for a commercial with her mouth looking like a duck’s.

He’s hilarious.

He tells stories while acting out the gestures and voices of the characters—it’s like watching a movie. I laughed so hard my stomach hurts now.

“That’s enough,” I say, handing the ice cream back. “If I eat one more spoonful, the dress won’t fit—and you’ll be disappointed for the second time that no one’s wearing it.”

He confessed that originally, the red dress was supposed to be worn by a famous TV star, but she got pregnant and it didn’t fit anymore. It’s an exclusive piece from a European designer I really admire—though I’d never have imagined I’d be bold enough to buy one of his designs.

He stops and looks me over, still holding the spoon between his lips. “No way, baby. We might even need to do a few alterations at the waist tomorrow.”

I shrug, because I’m not worried about how I look. I only agreed to wear the dress to make him happy. “Should I leave my hair down?”

“Partially down. And I’ve got killer red heels waiting for you too. You’re going to be like Jessica Rabbit at your mom’s little soirée.”

I smile. “Several things wrong with that statement. Jessica Rabbit’s a redhead and at least eight inches taller than me.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got nothing lacking in the curves department,” he says, cracking up while miming fondling imaginary boobs like he’s juggling balls.

Christ, he’s insane!

“Okay. So you’ll be my Roger?”

“Nah, I’m way too good-looking for that. I’ll be the lover .”

I look at him and wonder if he’s seeing anyone. Theo is so gorgeous and amazing but also guarded. Sure, he’s told a few stories about past relationships—but none of them seemed truly significant.

Despite his extraordinary looks and great sense of humor, something tells me that inside this beautiful guy who’s become such an important part of my life, there’s more sadness than he’s willing to let the world see.