Guilty As Sin (Sin Trilogy#2)

“Please don’t. You’re better than that. Better than us.”

She laughs. “I can’t believe you said that with a straight face.”

“It’s the truth. Don’t be like us. It’s a habit that’s fucking hard to break, and I’m working my ass off to prove to you that I have.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I have a choice at this point. You know what my biggest worry is right now? Not that the press will get to me, but that my cousin is going to go to them.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who she’s talking about. Fucking Karma. I will never forget that she sold me out. I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Whitney shakes her head. “Pray, maybe. But wait, it gets even better. And by better . . . I mean worse.”

“What?”

“This reporter said Ricky had a mistress, and she dumped him at the same time I filed for divorce. She said that’s why he killed himself. She wants me to tell my side of the story and exonerate myself.”

“A mistress?”

She nods. “Apparently.”

I search Whitney’s face, trying to decide how she feels about this, but all I see is resignation. “You never suspected?”

“No. But I guess I should have. He fed me one pile of bullshit after another.”

She looks up toward the ceiling, blinking back tears that make me wish Rango was alive so I could beat the hell out of him.

Whitney shakes her head with a sniffle. “I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore. What kills me the most is that I’m trying so fucking hard to focus on the positive, but I know something worse is coming. I don’t know what, but I feel it. Karma hates me. She’s just waiting for her chance to do something awful, and I don’t know how much more I can handle. All I want is some goddamn peace in my life, and I can’t help feeling like that’s never going to happen, no matter how hard I try.”

Her body shakes as tears trail down her face. I hate hearing her sound so defeated, especially after the sexy display of confidence she showed last night.

I pull Whitney against me and wrap my arms around her. “You’re going to have your peace. I swear to Christ, you’ll have it, even if it’s the last thing I do.” I press my cheek to her hair.

“Don’t say that. You can’t make that promise either.”

Her statement proves that she doesn’t know me that well. “I can and I will. Starting with tomorrow night.”

“What’s tomorrow night?”

“You and me and Hunter and Cricket. We’re going to have that dinner. Away from everyone. No press. No pressure. Just . . . peace.” I tilt her chin up to meet my gaze. “Just say yes. I’ll take care of the rest.”

She stares at my face as though she’s looking for answers, and I sure as hell hope she finds them. Because when I look into her eyes, I see everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m not letting it slip away again.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

I lean forward and brush my lips across hers. “Say yes, Blue.”

Her mouth opens, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tasting and teasing her. She moans softly, pressing her lips harder against mine as she meets me stroke for stroke.

When I pull back, her blue eyes are hazy with the same need that’s pumping through my blood.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Dinner tomorrow.”





36





LINCOLN





I’M MORE anxious than ever to get back to The Gables now that I have a plan, but my meeting with Commodore and the lawyers, minus the one who has now been fired for leaking information, is going longer than I expected. A meeting where we’re talking about the easiest and quietest way to exhume my father’s body isn’t a conversation I ever expected to be having, but it’s happening anyway.

“I think we should do it at night. No one will be the wiser.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Like we’re grave robbers? That’s a respectful way to treat our father. Mother will never agree to it, anyway.”

I don’t know why Harrison is here, but Commodore wouldn’t have invited him without a good reason. Keep your enemies close, I suppose. I hate that I have to view my own blood as a potential enemy, but Harrison doesn’t leave me an alternative. After he missed the deadline for the auction bid, it seems clear he’s deliberately sabotaging my efforts.

Commodore assesses Harrison. “Your mother will do what she’s told to do.” He glances at the lawyer. “I don’t want to skulk around at night like we’ve got something to hide. It’s already out. The press can report whatever it wants, and as long as no one is sharing information from the inner circle, we shouldn’t have an issue.” He doesn’t look at Harrison when he says it, but we all know that’s who he’s talking to.

“I vote we have security and a barricade. Keep the press as far away as possible in the event they find out, and we can use a tent to shield what happens from the entrance of the mausoleum to the vehicle,” Harrison says.

Commodore nods. “That’s what we’ll do then. Harrison, you’re in charge of security and setup. Don’t fuck it up.”

My brother sputters, but Commodore is already rolling out of the conference room with the lawyers behind him before he can respond.

“Does he think I’m not capable of doing anything right?”

I look at him. “How’d that bid go for our acquisition?”

Harrison glares. “You think you’re so fucking perfect? That you never fuck anything up? You’re the one who turned this family into a joke ten years ago because of that Gable bitch, and now you’re so fucking wrapped up in her again that you don’t realize she’s playing you.”

I rise and place both hands on the table. “I may not be able to fire you, but I can damn sure beat the shit out of you. You want to keep talking?”

He goes silent, but the mutinous look never leaves his face. Harrison is up to something and I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out.

But not right now. Right now, I have to finish arranging the most important date of my life, which is happening in a few hours.





37





WHITNEY





DOUBTS about my sanity plague me as I stare at the clothes hanging in the closet of the suite.

What was I thinking when I told him he could take me on a date? That’s right, I was riding that new wave of power and taking control of my life.

Great plan, Whitney.

I draw in a deep breath and exhale slowly.

It doesn’t matter what I wear. I’m not going to make a big deal about this.

Then again, worrying about what to wear helps me put the million other things I’ve been stressing about out of my head. Like the reporter’s number that Karma may have already used.

Not thinking about that right now.

Right now, I’m going to focus on the fact that I’m going on a normal double date. That’s it. That’s all.

Except I used to be in love with the guy, and every sign points to the universe conspiring to keep us apart. I still have a hard time believing that anything between us could possibly end well. Lincoln says it doesn’t have to end, though, and as much as I want to believe that, the events of the past make it difficult, even with my newfound positive attitude.

His mother will never accept it.

He’ll probably lose everything.

Stop thinking about all the bad and focus on the good. I snap out the order to myself and grab my phone to call Cricket.

“Hey, girl. I’m on a hike and I might lose you. Service is shit out here.”

“What are you wearing tonight?” The question feels so normal and strangely good.

“Are you seriously asking me what I’m wearing on the mystery date? Who are you, and what have you done with Whitney?”

“It’s either worry about clothes or the fact that your sister is probably selling my story to the press at this very moment.”

“Fucking whore. You see why I didn’t want her as my maid of honor? She’d probably try to nail Hunter in the closet and claim she was doing me a favor.”

The sad part about this is that Cricket probably isn’t wrong. Great, a new worry to add to my list.