The Secret (The Evolution Of Sin Book 2) (10 page)

“I see.”

I waited for him to elaborate or for me to somehow die of embarrassment but neither happened.

“I told you it was silly, I’m sorry, I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Nothing you ever feel is silly, Elle.” He sighed. “But what did you expect? Elena is my girlfriend.”

“I know.” God, I felt like a complete idiot.

“Don’t feel stupid,” he ordered, somehow reading my mind. “It’s the fucking situation that is stupid, not you.”

“I’m not making it any better,” I admitted.

“And I am?”

We were both quiet for a moment. I stared down at the gorgeous chaos of early evening in New York, the yellow cabs and rivers of pedestrians. It seemed, at the moment, infinitely more organized than my life.

“Go fishing with me tomorrow.”

“What?” Of all the things he could have said, I was least expecting that. I told him so.

After he finished laughing, he said, “It won’t compare to the Pacific, but autumn fishing in New York is the time to do it. I’ll take you out to Manhattan Beach and introduce you to the Antonios of New York.”

“There are more like him?” I couldn’t imagine the eccentric Mexican fisherman being like anyone else.

“Not quite, but the regulars under the Verrazano Bridge are real urban fishermen. You’ll like them. Better bring your camera.”

I was grinning so widely it was difficult to speak. “I never go anywhere without it.”

“It will be an early start,” he warned. “On the water at 5 am.”

“Bring me a caramel latte and I’m set.”

“I’ll be by at 4:35 to pick you up.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” My heart was beating fast; I didn’t want to say goodbye. “I’ll see you then.”

“Just a thought before I sign off; do you remember what you said when you discovered who I was? You weren’t willing to hurt Elena. Admirable, Giselle, but maybe you should consider this; who else is hurting for your sacrifice?”

He hung up before I could respond, but I had nothing to say either so I guess it didn’t really matter.

Chapter Eight.

I woke up with a smile before dawn the next morning and sang loudly to Beatles music in the shower as I carefully washed every inch of my body. Though I usually let my hair dry naturally into thick waves, I applied curling product and blew it dry with a diffuser so that the red locks settled into large, messy curls around my flushed face. I knew it would be cold out on the water at the beginning of November so I layered with care, rolling a grey turtleneck over my silk camisole and tugging thickly knit socks up to my knees over my blue jeans. The shades complimented my coloring beautifully and when I put on the final touches, a dove grey knitted head band with matching gloves and scarf, I stared at my happy self in the mirror with quiet pride. This was the Giselle I wanted to be, happy and confident. It was hard to be like that under the current circumstances, when I felt ugly and villainous with my family and desperate around Sinclair, but Cosima-level confidence took time and I was happy with my progress.

I had been hoping to escape the apartment unobserved but as soon as I left my room, I heard the swell of Italian music in the kitchen.

Cosima stood before the stove in thick socks and a pink cashmere robe, her inky hair swinging as she moved fluidly to the music, her voice raised in song.

“A bit early for Verdi, isn’t it?”

She spun to face me with a wide smile, her quick eyes taking in my carefully coordinated outfit without expression.

“It is never too early for
il maestro
! Although, I would argue it is way too early to be looking so cute. Where are you off to?” she asked.

I poured myself a glass of water with ice from the fridge to buy myself some time. Sinclair hadn’t said to lie about our outing and was there really anything wrong in my sister’s boyfriend taking me out? After all, I was new in town.

“Sinclair.” I cleared my throat. “Daniel invited me fishing. I told him the other day at lunch that I had enjoyed it in Mexico and he got pretty excited about it.” I rolled my eyes. “Who would have guessed such a buttoned up guy would be a fishing geek.”

Cosima grinned as she stirred the fragrant concoction in her pan. “
Massive
fishing geek. He enters the Bassmaster Elite Series on Oneida lake every August and I’m pretty sure he always takes his executives to Mexico just so he can get in some fishing.”

I laughed, remembering how boyish and carefree he had been out on the water. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“He’s taken me out before.” She scrunched her nose up. “Let’s just say I’m more comfortable on land. I’d take horseback riding over fishing any day.”

“Why are you up so early?” I accepted a plate of the stewed tomatoes and eggs with glee.

“A model dropped out of the Ralph Lauren shoot in England.” She burned herself on the pan and cursed savagely in Italian. “I have to be there by tomorrow.”

“You don’t seem too enthused and that doesn’t really explain the early start.”

I had never been to England but I did know Cosima had worked there for a year after leaving Napoli.

“I hate England.” She shrugged with one shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep thinking about it.”

“That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? I mean the entire country?” I grinned at her. “What did the Brits ever do to you?”

Her smile was uncharacteristically thin. “It’s a smaller country than you’d think.”

My phone lit up with a text from Sinclair. “I have to go.”

I hopped out of my seat, shoveling another mouthful of tomato and eggy goodness into my mouth before pulling on my green gumboots. I spun around to give Cosima a hug but she was already beside me, arms open.

Love bloomed in my chest like a prize-winning rose.

“If I don’t see you before you leave, I’ll miss you.” I said, stepping into her spicy scented embrace.

“I will be back in three days, if it was for any other line I wouldn’t be going at all.” She pressed a fragrant kiss to my cheek. “Now, be safe and enjoy your day. Sinclair can be a charming bastard when he wants to, I’m sure you will have a grand adventure.”

I smiled slightly but her remark hit a little too close to home. She watched me with a curious smile as I collected my bag and slipped into an emerald green raincoat. Even after I had closed the door and descended into the lobby and out onto the street, I could still feel her eyes on me as if she had implanted a tracking device.

Happily, all thoughts of my sister fled when I saw Sinclair in a gorgeous orange Porsche idling at the curb. I squealed as I slid into the low two-seat car and swung to face him with a large grin. “This is
the
coolest car I have ever seen.”

His small smile and sparkling eyes made me giddy. “It’s a 964 series Singer Porsche 911.”

At my blank look, he grinned boyishly as he gunned the throaty engine and pulled into the pre-dawn traffic. “I spent my early years in an orphanage in Nice, Giselle. I practically grew up watching beautiful cars drive by.”

“Never close enough to touch,” I murmured, half question and half comfort as I fingered the pale buttery leather seats.

He shrugged but there was tightness around his eyes.

“I was not poor for long.” He changed lanes and shot me a glance. “They found me when I was sixteen years old. Took me after two weeks of visitation.”

“Love at first sight?”

His mouth twisted. “Willa was looking for the next big thing in Paris and they took a vacation to the South, as if being in Paris wasn’t vacation enough. She found Cage and I smoking in an alley and invited us for a drink. She was beautiful.” He shrugged but his muscles were too tense to pull it off. “I thought maybe she wanted to sleep with me. It happened sometimes.”

“They didn’t have to adopt you?”

“No, not really and they didn’t right away. You know they took both of us in, Cage and me, but I was the one they kept. Sometimes I wonder if Cage hates me for it, but I’m the one that ended up with their bullshit.”

“Wow.” I blinked a few times as I digested the tide of information. “So you and Cage really have known each other forever. Did he go to America with you when you moved?”

“No, he stayed in Paris. They let him stay with their maid in their
pied a terre
. We visited every Christmas but I haven’t lived in France since I was seventeen.”

“Do you miss it?” I asked.

I did every day and I had only lived there for five years.

“Yes and no. I think of myself as American now. It is this land that has sustained me. I will always love France, nearly everything is better there.” I smiled at his typical French patriotism. “But I left many things there that are best left alone.”

I bit my lip and stared out the window, debating whether to continue questioning him about his parents. I was so curious to know everything about him but I didn’t want to romanticize him further or make him uncomfortable.

But, as was always the case when I was around Sinclair, I couldn’t help myself. “So, Willa represented you?”

His lids lowered. “Yes, but I only modeled for two years. When I turned eighteen, I demanded to be allowed to go to college. I was smart and well mannered, the perfect young man in their eyes. I think they figured, why waste his potential? They already had Cage, the artistic prodigy and, to some extent, Cosima, who was the real talent in front of the camera and on the runway. Even better if their oldest son wanted to follow in his father’s academic footsteps, maybe even follow him into politics.”

“It’s almost like a fairy tale. I mean, out of all the orphans in the world, they picked you. I would ask myself all the time how it happened. I mean, why you?”

His gaze snapped to mine and I realized that I had touched a nerve. My hand reached out to brush through the thick reddish hair dangling in front of his face and I pushed it back from his forehead.

“I know why I would have picked you,” I amended softly.

He snorted. “You know, I didn’t do anything to earn this face.”

My heart twisted. How could he think he was only worth the value of his beauty? I had never met a more accomplished man in all my life and I doubted I ever would.

“You’re right. But you worked hard to develop into the sophisticated, intelligent, driven man you are today. And in my eyes, that’s sexier than any six pack.”

He raised his eyebrows at me and I giggled. “Okay, okay, I love your six pack too.”

There was a slight smile on his lips and for a few moments, we drove in silence, listening to the deep rasp of Cage on the CD player. He sang in English, his voice rising like the howl of wind over the crashing drums and swooshing guitar. I had always loved
Caged
and
everyone in France seemed to quietly lust after at least one of the gorgeous band members so I really hoped they could make it in America.

It was amazing to think about how inextricably linked we all were; Sinclair, Elena, Cosima, Cage and I. They had been together for years, through the kind of experiences that I had only ever read about. Sure, I had known hunger and abuse, crime and drunkenness but I had been young, shielded by the worst of it by my other siblings. I squirmed in my seat, feeling disgustingly naïve and fresh off the farm.

We finally pulled into a small packed lot beside the water, the lights of the city and Verrazano Bridge reflecting in the deep blue ocean. The combination of the urban and natural filled me with fizzy adrenaline and I quickly slipped out of the car with my camera to my eye in order to take a few pictures before the light picked up. But I was melancholy, sucked into the vortex of self-hatred and doubt that had plagued me throughout my younger years. It was a strange feeling to realize that I was extraordinarily lucky. I felt almost sick with it.

Sinclair was quiet too as he gathered our gear and briefly spoke to some other men going down to the rocky water’s edge with their poles and coffee thermoses. I drifted away from him as he set up our stuff and politely asked to take some pictures of the beautifully weathered fishermen already sunk knee deep in the icy waters. They consented without words, a grunt or nod or maybe a toothy grin was all I needed and I was surprisingly grateful for their silence. The quiet felt good around me, like a warm blanket over my shivering sense of self.

When I finally made my way back carefully over the slippery rocks to our post, the sky was losing the last of its girlish blush, sinking into an eggshell blue. I stopped just to his left side and studied Sinclair through the lens, the way his hair rustled like liquid copper in the wind and the slight flush that sat high on his pronounced cheekbones. I could understand why Willa had chosen him; his beauty was a strange thing, rare and almost inanimate, like a statue brought to life.

I don’t know how long I stood there before he turned to me. We stared at each other and I wished hopelessly that he could understand even one tenth of the turmoil inside me.

He sighed, as if in answer to my unspoken desire, and placed his rod in a crevice between two large rocks. In three long, sure steps over slippery boulders, he was in front of me. I tipped my head to maintain eye contact. I was strangely breathless as his intensity exerted itself like the force of gravity on my lungs.

“Elle.” His cool hands cupped my face. “Stop thinking.”

I tried to articulate myself but could only shake my head.

“I didn’t bring you out here to over think, to stress or worry about if what we are doing is wrong. I brought you here because this is one of my favorite places in New York and I wanted to share it with you. Can you please let it be as simple as that?”

I shook my head again but this time, I found my voice. “Why me?”

His eyes darkened. “You won’t like the answer to that.”

My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach so quickly that I thought I would throw up. Somehow, I managed to smile thinly and step away from him instead.

“Fair enough,” I said, moving past him to grab my smaller rod.

It was purple with a glittery grip and I laughed wetly as I took it into my hand. When I looked over at him, he was shaking his head at me in irritation.

“Is this Elena’s?” I asked, because I was that masochistic.

“If you can’t stop yourself from saying idiotic things, don’t speak,” he barked, striding back over to pick up his rod.

I blushed at his reprimand but it was true, I was being petty and weak. Why couldn’t I just enjoy this gorgeous morning with this gorgeous man? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that. So – I took a deep breath and shoved all the grime in my soul under the rug – I wouldn’t.

“You bought it for me, didn’t you?” It was a rhetorical question because I knew he was too angry with me to answer. “Thank you, it’s adorable.”

He nodded curtly and adjusted his stance.

“
Je n’arrete pas de faire l’andouille
,” I murmured just loudly enough for Sinclair to hear me.

I snuck a glance over at him and saw his lips twitch reluctantly.

“I just can’t stop making the sausage,” I repeated, this time in English.

I beamed as he chuckled, shaking his head at my antics.

“You may be acting like a fool,” he agreed, taking a side step to bump me with his hip. “But at least you are an adorable fool.”