The Secret (The Evolution Of Sin Book 2) (9 page)

Cosima shed her clothes almost the moment we were in the door from lunch. Without a word, she had undone the knot at the back of her elaborately wrapped dress and let it fall to the ground.

“Where do you want me?”

My mouth opened and closed as I took in her scantily clad form, her breasts and lower half covered only in tiny scraps of web-like lace.

“You don’t have to do this right now,” I said even though my fingers itched to sketch her form, to imprint the beauty of her body and those tragic eyes Sinclair had spoken of onto canvas.

One slim shoulder rose and fell. “Why not?”

“It’s just not really how it works, Cosi. I need to know more about your, well, your sexual history and what, well,” I blushed, “turns you on and stuff.”

She stared at me with one eyebrow raised, amused and slightly condescending. “And stuff? Jeez, I hope you pitch this series better to the galleries.”

I laughed and relaxed slightly. “You and me both.”

“What shall I tell you, then?” She moved into the kitchen, all grace and utter ease and pulled out a chilled carafe of iced tea.

I took a seat at the island and watched her prepare me a drink, much like I had the night before with Sinclair. In a strange way, I wanted to ask Cosima many of the same questions I wished I could ask him.

“Do you have any sexual fetishes?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Sex is kinky by nature, no?”

“Well, sure, I guess. But I’m referring to specific things, terms maybe.”

She was already shaking her head. “I’ve done a lot of things, and rarely disliked any of them. American women might call me a slut.”

I opened my mouth to protest but her wink made me smile. “You’re teasing me.”

“A little.”

I pouted.

“Alright,
bambina
, I will tell you a little something about sex.” The word hissed out of her mouth and billowed into the air like steam from some fierce engine. “I’ve been nothing but this body for almost my entire life. It can be a powerful thing to be beautiful.” She shrugged. “But if you don’t have a reason to build strong bones beneath it, it is easy to become many very ugly things. Sad, used, dumb or dead.”

“You’re strong.”

Her slashing brows rose. “Maybe now, but let me tell you, I’ve also been sad, used, dumb and very nearly dead.”

We stared at each other. My heart was beating too fast and I felt nauseous as my imagination went to work. What exactly had my little sister done to get us out of our poverty?

“The door was open.”

Elena stood on the step below the kitchen holding her pretty Prada purse in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She brandished it now and tried to smile. “I brought a peace offering. Daniel told me I was a bit… rude at lunch.”

“You were a straight up bitch, my darling Lena,” Cosima corrected with a smile as she swooped down to hug her, uncaring of her unrobed state. “But I’m still glad you brought us wine.”

I smiled slightly at Elena as she was ushered into the kitchen to the seat beside me but I didn’t acknowledge her quasi apology because there was a much bigger one on the back of my tongue.

“Where are your clothes, Cosima?” Elena asked.

She grinned. “Giselle is going to paint me.”

“What, now?”

“Yes,” I said. “We were just getting started.”

“Where would you like me?” Cosima asked.

I bit my lip as I contemplated what she had told me and gave her a brisk nod when an idea came to me. “I’ll start with some sketches so you can keep your underwear on if you’d like. Stand over by the door.”

She captured the pose I wanted in less than thirty seconds, her years of modeling experience making her the perfect visual muse. I had her standing astride, facing me like a proud warrior, naked and daring. Her body was lush in all the right places and defied gravity just as Cosima had defied the weight of poverty and then, of expectation. I wanted her body in the sun, lit up under the brassy warmth like a trophy while her face, tucked slightly to the side, seeking the shadow, remained in the dark. I’d need to figure out how to catch the glimmer of gold in her eyes, the velvety softness of the color like worn cloth. The challenge excited me and I trapped my tongue between my teeth as I littered the floor with page after page of sketches.

Every woman in the world wished they looked like that, golden unblemished skin glistening over long muscles and delicate bones. The midday sun was not kind to a body but the harsh light shone like gilt on the inky waves rippling over her heavy breasts and tickling the bare skin above her pubis. There were only three things disrupting her natural beauty; twin gold bars through her dark nipples, visible through the transparent lace bra, and a raised, bizarrely symmetrical scar three inches in diameter on her left butt cheek that she wouldn’t really let me look at.

“I’m sorry about that,” Cosima had said, dismissively gesturing at the nipple piercings. “Misspent youth in America and all that.”

I wanted to see more of the brand, pepper her with questions until she couldn’t help but sneeze out the answers.

Elena, for her part, kept curiously silent and empty of censure. I was pretty sure the nipple piercings had surprised her, that Cosima’s comfortable nudity offended her sensibilities, but she only sat perched on the stool with her legs crossed and her arms folded like a debutant at tea.

“You are so untroubled,” she breathed after a long stretch of pencil scraping and silence.

“I’ve never had a hard time with nudity.”

“How?”

I tried not to look at Elena but I desperately wanted to see if her expression matched the quiet despair in her tone.

“We were all meant to be naked.”

“Maybe women who look like you.”

“No.” Cosima’s arched brows slammed down. “Every person is beautiful naked.”

“Even without those curves?”

“Even with them?” I countered softly.

Elena and I looked at each other then and smiled.

“You don’t believe me because I look like this but that is why I like Giselle’s idea so much. Everyone is naked under his or her clothes, vulnerable under their masks and a person’s sexuality is an extension of their human need and their primitive desires. It is not a shameful thing.”

“Who knew the swimsuit model was so wise?” I teased, my strokes on the thick paper looser now to accommodate Cosima’s fluid expressions.

“You would be surprised by what standing in front of a camera every day will do to you.” Cosima winked but both Elena and I remained quiet because, I think, we had both wondered the exact same thing.

Elena sighed and propped her delicate face in her hands. “Listen, Giselle, I am sorry I was so negative earlier about your collection. I really would like to pose for you.” She hesitated. “It will be hard for me though so maybe I could go last? By then, you might not even want me.” She laughed awkwardly.

“I’ll want you.”

“Okay. I’d like to model then.”

“Thank you, Elena.” I smiled widely at her. “It means a lot to me.”

“Well, I was hoping we could do a sort of trade? I’d love to commission you to do a painting of Daniel. His parents anniversary is coming up and I know it would make the perfect present.”

“Um…” I tried desperately to analyze if it was a good idea or not. “I’m not sure if I’ll have time with everything I have to do for the show.”

“It means a lot to me,” she echoed with a pretty smile, and I heard the trap catch around my ankle.

Cosima stifled a laugh at Elena’s manipulation.

“Touché,” I murmured.

“This is good. You should model for Giselle; you need to be more comfortable about sex. As the only one of us getting it regularly, Lena, I’m surprised you aren’t more confident.”

My heart stopped and stuttered at the restart.

She blushed, actually blushed. “He is insatiable.”

A metallic taste flooded my mouth and I realized that I had bit clean through my lower lip.

Cosima laughed. “It’s good to hear that you two are still going strong after so much time. Gives a girl some hope.”

I swallowed back the nausea and focused on soothing my torn lip.

“Last night he came home and practically accosted me,” she admitted with that stupidly pretty blush. “He hasn’t been like that for ages.”

I stood up before I could help it, the pencils in my lap clattering to the ground.

“Bathroom,” I squawked, before scurrying out of the room.

I pressed myself to the closed bathroom door and squeezed my eyes shut so tight they pulsed. I felt like a sickening swirl, circling the drain, full of dirt and debris.

Breathing heavily, I focused on reducing the thudding pace of my heart and tried to clear my mind.

Elena and Sinclair
lived
together. Of course, they were going to have sex. They belonged to each other; it was only natural.

A sob broke through my silence and I clapped both hands over my wounded mouth.

Rational thought at the moment was definitely out of the question.

Before my thoughts could catch up to my actions, I had pulled out my cell phone and pressed his contact information.

“Faire Developments, Daniel Sinclair’s office, Margot speaking.”

Shit
, I only had his office number.

“Hello Margot.” I cleared my throat. “This is Giselle Moore, I was hoping to speak with Mr. Sinclair about a recent development at DS Galleries.”

There was a long pause as she digested both my name and my stupid excuse to speak to her boss. “Any inquiries about the gallery can be made through Mrs. Rossi.”

“I was told to speak to Mr. Sinclair specifically about this matter.”
Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit
. Please buy it.

Another long hesitation ended in a sharp sigh. “Please hold.”

My breath seemed grossly loud in the small bathroom and I worried briefly about what my sisters would think I was doing. I thought about going out to tell them I was taking a call, or maybe just hanging up before I embarrassed myself further, when his voice came over the line.

“Miss Moore, how may I be of assistance?”

It was the businessman on the phone, not exactly what I wanted and yet his cool, perfectly formed words soothed me.

“Sinclair,” I breathed, because I didn’t know what else to say.

There was a beat of silence. “Yes, I fully comprehend the seriousness of it. I’m in the middle of a meeting though. I will call you back.”

Click
.

I stared at the home screen of my phone blankly for a second, absorbing the rush of disappointment that crashed over me. Of course, he was busy. I had no right to even call him in the first place. He was at the most my new friend, and at the worst, my ex-lover. You simply didn’t call someone like that to vent, especially if it was about his or her goddamn partner.

“I’m going insane,” I murmured to my wide-eyed reflection.

After a few deep breaths and chastisements, I washed my hands and went back to the kitchen where my sisters were chatting away amiably, as if nothing had happened.

I guess nothing really had.

“I was just inviting Cosima to the annual Romani International charity gala next Friday,” Elena said as I reclaimed my seat. “It’s an organization that advocates for the rights of nomadic peoples across the world. I thought, maybe, and I know it is late notice,” she cleared her throat, “you would like to attend too?”

It was Sin’s charity. My heart fluttered at the thought of discovering more about it and of seeing Candy Kay again.

“I would love to.”

Elena and I smiled at each other for the second time that day, for the second time in over five years, and the tenderness I felt ached like a bruise.

My phone began to ring and I looked down at the screen with surprise:
Faire Developments
.

“Excuse me.” I slipped off my stool again and made my way to the balcony. “I should take this.”

Cosima caught my eye as I moved passed her, now clad in a robe, and I knew she was suspicious of my behavior. I ignored her and hustled outside.

“Hello?”

“Giselle.” His voice was warmer. “I’m sorry about the delay. You sounded upset.”

I sighed and leaned against the railing separating me from the nine-story drop. “I was but that’s no excuse, I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“I’m flattered that you called me.”

“Really?”

“Of course, it means I am the first person you think of when something bad happens. That’s no mean status.”

“No, I guess it isn’t. Although, I was upset partially because of you.”

“Ah, I suppose that makes sense.” I could hear the humour in his voice. “What did I do this time?”

I smiled even though my words still hurt. “Elena was talking about your sex life. About, well, about how you went home last night and ‘practically attacked her’.”