The Secret (The Evolution Of Sin Book 2) (13 page)

“I’d like that, Elena. Very much.”

She smiled, a slight but genuine tilt of her closed lips. “Good. As an olive branch, I would love to set you up with a wonderful friend of mine. His name is Ulrich Wick, he works in finance and he has the loveliest head of hair.”

I bit my lip against my protest because as far as olive branches went, it was relatively harmless and honestly, it would probably do me good to go out with someone new.

“That sounds lovely.” I leaned in to give her a hug and smiled slightly when she gave me her customary pat on the back.

“Does Wednesday work for you?” 

“Sounds great,” I said I donned my coat and began to walk towards the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Excellent. Oh and Giselle?” she called after me. “Try to wear something more appropriate for daytime.”

I waved my consent at her over my shoulder and pushed through the door into the welcome city bustle.

Despite the awkwardness, I was glad we had spent some quality time alone. It didn’t change how I felt about Sinclair, it hadn’t lessened or intensified my guilt, and, honestly, it hadn’t made me feel any closer to Elena.

It was strange how indifference could cripple a relationship just as assuredly as animosity.

Still, I hadn’t spent quality with my eldest sister in years and it was interesting to catalogue her growth and sameness. She went for a manicure every ten days but still picked at her hangnails when she was nervous, and she spoke with a perfect English accent but the wrinkle between her brow when people spoke too quickly belied her aptitude with the language. She was such a writhing mass of contradictions I wasn’t sure how to read her, let alone get along with her. And I was okay with that.

Did it make me a terrible person that I found my time spent with Elena most lent itself to my relationship, or lack of one, with Sinclair?

Because I could understand now how he could love her, how very compatible they were even if it was artificially. The superficiality of their likeness was exactly the point of their relationship; they both liked to live life behind a meticulously honed mask of respectability and elegance.

I looked in the mirror as I carefully applied the last of my lipstick, a deep reddish pink that complimented the dark grey, silver threaded dress Cosima had helped me choose earlier that week. The silk flowed down my curves like rainwater over steel, binding my waist and baring a deep square of flesh between my breasts. My auburn hair, lighter than it had been since my sun kissed summers in Napoli, spiraled softly around my lightly freckled shoulders.

“It’s good.” I murmured to myself in the mirror, sucking in a deep breath and adjusting my full breasts in the tight panels to show them off to their best advantage.

But I didn’t feel good. My heart was fragile and dry in my chest, something that had been set aflame and with each beat turned slowly to ash. I wished Cosima was here to press a fragrant kiss to my cheek and tell me I was beautiful or Brenna, who would have already popped the champagne and made our preparation into a party. I wasn’t used to dressing up but it felt sad and a little wrong to do it alone, especially when I was already wretched with the thought of facing Éclair (my couple name for Elena and Sinclair).

I grabbed my jeweled clutch and slipped my feet into delicately strapped black shoes before opening the door to leave.

“Mind a tag-along?”

My head whipped up, a lock of my hair sticking to my eyelashes, to see Sebastian decked out in a gorgeous black tuxedo. He held a box of sweets from Dylan’s Candy Bar and a small silver flask.

“This is to get us through the night.” He indicated the flask and then held up the candies. “And this is your reward for afterwards.”

“A handsome man comes to my door bearing gifts? I’d be a fool not to take him.” I slipped into his arms for a spicy scented hug and closed my eyes for a second to absorb how good it felt to be with my brother again.

We stood like that for a moment before I murmured, “How did you know I’d need you?”

He hesitated and pressed a kiss to the top of my hair. “Cosima might have suggested it.”

My heart stuttered. I knew Cosima was perceptive, but how much had she surmised about my relationship with Sinclair? Could she possibly know?

“Come on Cinderella, you’ll be late for the ball.”

Sebastian gently pulled me from his arms, placed the candy on the side table and locked up the apartment with his spare key.

We traveled in Sebastian’s town car, a luxurious Bentley with cream leather interior that still retained its new car smell. His driver, a short stocky man with vibrant orange hair, greeted me in a thick Scottish accent before Sebastian put up the privacy screen.

He opened the flask, took a long swig and passed it to me, watching me with narrowed eyes as I swallowed a burning mouthful.

“You are so different,
bambina
.” His voice held only the faintest trace of Italy, a whisper that suggested he was foreign but gave no indication of his nationality unless you were familiar with the sounds of Naples.

“So are you.”

He leaned back in his seat, slinging an arm over the ledge above the in-car bar. His thick black hair waved across his bronze forehead and accentuated the pure gold of his eyes. He was so handsome but the way he held his mouth, even to smile, was off, crooked in a way that might have been sexy to some but to me just seemed sad. There were so many secrets between my family members that it seemed impossible we could ever regain our childhood closeness.

“I had an affair in Mexico.”

It was a huge admission for me but Seb, the seasoned movie star, only raised one brow so I barreled on.

“He was amazing.” I couldn’t help it that my voice turned dreamy. “No one has ever made me feel so safe and so inspired to push past my comfort zone. He was handsome and intelligent and just remote enough to make him seem mysterious.” I laughed at myself and shrugged. “So, obviously, I fell in love with him.”

“But?” I raised my eyebrows at him and he sighed dramatically before explaining himself. “As a man, I know there is always a ‘but’ with women and it is almost always justifiable.”

“Well, you’re right. The ‘but’ is that he is taken.”

“Ah, that is a significant ‘but’.” His eyes sparkled as he took another sip from the flask. “Is it just me or have you forgotten what type of butts we are talking about?”

I laughed and hit him lightly in the shoulder. “You are such a goofball.”

“Self-proclaimed and proud of it.” He winked.

My giggle ended on a sigh as I looked out the window and spotted the Four Seasons Hotel looming ahead of us. I startled when Sebastian reached over to take my hand in his but I didn’t look over at him when he started to speak.

“For whatever reasons, tonight is going to be difficult for both of us. I want you to know that I’m here with you,
bambina
. We are going into this hive of bees together, unified. If you want to leave at any time, say the Italian word.”

The Italian word was a precaution we had established as children when Seamus would return home twitchy and bloated after days of drinking and gambling. When the fights grew too loud between our parents and, mostly, when the Camorra came to collect their payments from Seamus, whether he had the money or not, Elena would call out
insieme
. We each had our own hiding places; the twins were tucked into the closet behind the water heater while I was placed under the back porch. Elena had taken the worst safe haven, under the sink in the kitchen, a place that was kept empty by Mama specifically for that reason. I had always wondered how much my older sister had witnessed from her cramped hideaway, how much the violence and conflict had affected her. I know the hours spent cold and alone outside had led me to detest the feeling of both.

“
Insieme
,” I murmured. “Together.”

Sebastian nodded and placed a kiss on my knuckles as we came to a stop in front of the gorgeous hotel, an elegant pale stone façade surrounded by modern glass architecture. I was in awe as Seb ushered me from the car into the tasteful lobby and up the sweeping marble staircase to the main event room.

I blinked rapidly when we entered the formal space, blinded momentarily by the wealth of marble and crystal, silk clad ladies and tuxedoed gentleman. There couldn’t have been more than two hundred people in attendance but they were some of the richest individuals in Manhattan and it wasn’t hard to feel awed by their hard-won or inherited wealth and grace.

Sebastian chuckled at my déclassé expression and tugged me further into the room.

“Beautifully dressed sharks in a pretty tank,
cara
, nothing more,” he reminded me as we pulled up at the bar to grab retro champagne glasses.

“Yeah, and I’m Nemo,” I muttered, smoothing the front of my dress with a clammy palm.

“Sebastian.”

His laugh cut off abruptly at the breathy sound of his name, his shoulders hunching slightly and his knuckles white against the edge of the bar. He let out a deep exhale before turning around to face the woman who had said his name.

She was absolutely lovely, like a movie star out of the 1960s. Her large blue eyes were wreathed in a tasteful ring of kohl and her tiny mouth was red and full like a rosebud. She was petite in a way I had always desire to be, with fine bones and slim hips emphasized by the fluidity of her gown. Despite her youthful features, the grace of her carriage and the fine lines across her pale forehead denoted her age. She put on a good show in the filmy black dress with the long white opera gloves, but she couldn’t fool the artist in me. I would have been surprised if she was a day under forty.

I knew who she was even before Sebastian cleared his throat and said, “Savannah.”

They stared at each other for a long, heated moment, completely ignorant of everyone else around them. I was surprised by their chemistry even though Elena had made it apparent in her insults that Seb had had an affair with an older woman. The proper Savannah Richardson did not seem at all like my fun-loving brother’s type.

I cleared my throat and stepped forward with a genuine smile. “Hello, I’m Giselle. It’s very nice to meet you, I’ve heard such wonderful things.”

One icy blonde brow rose slowly as she looked between my brother and me but she did deign to take my offered hand.

“The pleasure is mine. I wasn’t aware you were in town.” Her eyes darted briefly to Sebastian who remained standing stiffly at my side. “I very much hope you are enjoying being reunited with your family.”

“I am, thank you.” I continued to smile at her even though the situation was strangely grave. “Sebastian decided to be my white knight and accompany me here tonight.” I leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve never been to such an opulent event before.”

She laughed lightly and I caught a glimpse of something younger in her, something almost childlike and delicate. Her wide blue eyes slid to Sebastian again, inexorably drawn to him, and I felt a pang of empathy for the older lady. I knew all to well what it was like to love an unattainable man.

“You are in good hands with Sebastian then. I’ve dragged him to enough of these over the years to make him a hardened veteran, isn’t that right?”

Seb grunted noncommittally and shot me a glare when I dug my elbow in his side. I was opening my mouth to appease Savannah, maybe even apologize for my thuggish brother, when an older gentleman stepped up beside her and placed a heavy hand on her birdlike shoulder.

“Savannah, darling, I’ve been looking for you.” He spoke in a loud, gruff voice; a radio announcer from the 50s accompanied by the static rasp of an old stereo. It added to his old-school tails, the cummerbund and slicked silver hair. He was a handsome man, robust and virile despite his age and I immediately liked him.

“Seb, my boy.” He beamed when he noticed my brother and stepped forward to grab him in a rough hug. “How the hell are you?”

“Fine as ever, Tate.” Sebastian’s lips twisted in a reluctant grin. “I was just introducing your
lovely wife
to my sister, Giselle Moore.”

Savannah flinched slightly at Sebastian’s casually spoken truth and I realized then why Sebastian had said tonight held its own hardship. They were obviously in love, or, at least, they had been and it had ended on less than auspicious terms.

“Giselle, the artistic one, right?” Tate grabbed my hand between his two mitts and squeezed it gently. “Tate Richardson. Media mogul, producer, director and the lucky bastard married to this beautiful lady.”

Savannah straightened and any softness I had seen before vanished. She was suddenly the kind of New York matron I expected, haughty and beautifully aloof as if nothing could touch her. Sebastian scowled at the change and something flicker in her eyes. It was pretty obvious to me that
he
was the only one who could touch her.

“You haven’t been by in far too long, son.” Tate had turned back to Sebastian. “What ever happened to our family Sunday dinners?”

Sebastian shifted slightly away from me, as if the slight distance would make it harder for me to hear this conversation.

“I didn’t know you two were in New York and I’ve been busy working on a new project.” He finished his flute of champagne in one long draught and reached behind the bar to grab something stronger, an expensive brand of whiskey that he poured into a short glass. The bartender eyed him warily but after a quick wink, she let him be; she was only human after all.