Guilty As Sin (Sin Trilogy#2)

The last two times I was here, things didn’t exactly work out well. Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that the third time’s a charm? I’m keeping a healthy dose of skepticism close regardless.

A bellhop comes running when Lincoln pulls his Range Rover under the massive covered entrance to the hotel.

“Mr. Riscoff, welcome. We’ve been expecting you, sir. We have suites prepared for your guests.” He hands Lincoln a white-and-gold envelope. “Here are your keys.”

“Thank you. Make sure you have the day manager show Jackie Gable and her daughter to their suite when they arrive.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve already been briefed. We’ll do everything in our power to make sure they have an excellent stay and all their needs are met.”

Lincoln thanks him and then helps me out of the car.

Part of me is grateful for the lengths Lincoln is going to in order to make sure my family is shielded, but I can’t shake the feeling that everyone is watching us as we walk through the lobby of the hotel.

Quit looking for the bad, Whitney. Let’s be positive for a single day.

I can do this. I’m not the same girl who felt completely out of place here ten years ago. I’ve had dinner at the White House. Met the queen of England. Flown in private jets. I may never have felt like I belonged at Ricky Rango’s side, but I sure learned how to fake it. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do now.

“Looks like you’ve done a lot with the place.” I inject humor into my tone as I scan the decor, because it’s clear the gilded interior hasn’t changed, although it doesn’t look like it’s aged either.

Lincoln’s lips quirk with a smile as we step into the elevator. “You know how Riscoffs are. We don’t handle change well.”

I look sideways at him, intending to make some kind of snarky comment, but instead I see him wave a card across the reader and push an unmarked button.

“Do I need to be worried that you’re taking me to the dungeon?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

The elevator starts to rise, and I shrug. “Well, we’re not going down, so I guess that answers my question.”

“We’re going to the top floor of this tower. It’s reserved for VIPs . . . celebrities, foreign dignitaries, politicians.”

“We don’t need that.” Apprehension coils in my chest. “We don’t want special treatment.”

Lincoln studies my face for several moments before he replies. “You deserve it, and you’re getting it. I’m not going to argue about it.”

I don’t give a shit that he doesn’t want to argue about it. I open my mouth to object, but he keeps going.

“Any employee or guest can access the other floors, but not this one. Access is very limited because we host people who require the utmost privacy, and McKinley is absolutely rigid with security. It’s the one place where I’m confident the press can’t get to you, which makes it the best place for you.”

I think of Jackie facing screaming reporters like I did. Oh Lord, if they got their microphones in Karma’s face . . .

The thought of what my cousin would say if given the chance is the deciding factor.

“Fine, but only because I don’t want my family to deal with the things I’ve had to.”



Lincoln’s mouth, already open no doubt to deliver another reason why I should agree, snaps shut.

I like seeing surprise on his face instead of feeling it on mine. Maybe keeping him off-balance should be my new goal, because it’s the best shot I have at a level playing field.

Why would I want a level playing field if I’m not giving him another chance?

“I’m sorry you had to deal with any of it.” Lincoln sounds sincere, and something that looks like protectiveness flickers to life in his hazel eyes. “If it’s within my power, I’ll make sure you never have to again.”

I want to believe him, but I remind myself that I’m no longer taking Lincoln at his word. I’m going to trust as little as he does. It may not be what Magnus meant when he said try something new, but it’s the only strategy I have right now.

My decision quells my rising tendrils of anxiety, and I paste a polite smile on my face. “I guess we’ll see.”

I pull my shoulders back just in time for the doors to slide open, and it takes everything I have not to gape.

If I thought the lobby, restaurant, and spa at The Gables were opulent, I hadn’t seen anything yet. This floor puts even the nicest hotels I’ve ever set foot in to shame. Even the fresh, crisp scent of the air is more exclusive than what I was used to in my old life.

I step out onto white marble floors shot with gold and silver, waxed to a shine so high that I can see my own reflection.

“The lounge area is to the right. There’s a fully stocked bar with a bartender available twenty-four hours a day.”

He waves to the gleaming white, gold, and silver slab of marble that curves around the side of the huge space filled with white leather seating arrangements and marble tables. The windows beyond the bar almost overshadow the space, however, because the view from up here is absolutely incredible.

I wander toward the wall of windows. One section slides apart as we approach, revealing the shimmering blue waters of a pool and white padded lounge chairs. Not a single person is outside, despite the gorgeous sunny day.

“No one uses this?”

Lincoln pauses. “Rarely. We only have two guests on the floor right now.”

My gaze trails along the intricate molding, taking in the details. “I don’t even want to know what this costs for a night, do I?”

“Does it matter?”

It may not matter to Lincoln, but I don’t like the beholden feeling I’m already letting creep in. No. I will not feel guilty about this.

“I guess not,” I say, trying to keep my tone blasé.

“Let me show you to your room. Unless you want a drink first?” He inclines his head toward the bartender.

The last thing I need right now is alcohol to muddy my decision-making abilities when Lincoln is being so accommodating.

“The room, please.”

I try to ignore his smile when he waves his hand toward the hallway. “If you’d follow me this way, I’ll show you to your suite, Ms. Gable.”

Maybe the room isn’t a safe choice either.

No, Whitney. Stop. You’re not going to be the one who goes back on your word immediately.

I follow him down to the last door on the right side of the hallway. Lincoln pulls the envelope the bellhop gave him from his suit pocket and waves it in front of the card reader, then opens the door.

Of course, I expected something opulent, and the living room of the suite doesn’t disappoint. It’s all white and gold and absolutely gorgeous. My gaze catches on the massive fireplace with a gold mantel along one wall and the cozy chaise near it. I can already picture myself curled up there with a journal.

“Will this work for you?” Lincoln asks.

I turn around, immediately thinking he must be making a joke about it, but his expression is completely serious. He really cares if this is okay.

“It’s perfect,” I reply honestly. I’m about to say something else when I hear excited little-girl squeals echoing down the hall.

The family has arrived.

“Oh my gosh, Mommy! Did you see?”

Lincoln and I step out of the room to see Jackie herding my cousin’s kids behind a man leading them to another room down the hall. Karma trails after them, her attention on her phone and not on her kids.

“Girls, please. Quiet. There are other people.” Of course, it’s my Aunt Jackie hushing them because Karma can’t be bothered.

I hurry toward them. “I’m so sorry, Jackie. I didn’t know—”

Karma looks up from her phone, her resting bitch face on point. “You didn’t know what? That reporters would be camped out on Mom’s front lawn trying to get my kids to talk to them?” Her tone is cutting. “Nice, Whit. Real nice.”

“Karma, not now,” Jackie says.

My cousin jerks her head to the right and glares at my aunt. “Then when, Mom? Because I had to pull my kids out of school because of her.”

“It’s not Whitney’s fault. I’m afraid that if there’s blame to be laid anywhere, it’s squarely on my family.”

Heat radiates off Lincoln’s body as he steps up behind me. It takes a few moments for my brain to recognize that he’s standing up for me.