Page 21 of A Sinful Gravity

Didn't even change out of the dress. Grabbed my purse, lifted the hem, snatched the car keys, and ran into the storm.

I got in the car. Wipers going crazy. Vision blurred. Brain full of images—Cassian drunk, Sloane's sugary voice.

I knew Obsidian. Washington's elite playground. Low-key facade, different world inside. At least it wasn't far from home.

Twenty minutes later, I could see the warm yellow lights. Pulled right up to the entrance—no time for parking.

The lobby pounded with music. Dim lights. Cigar smoke mixed with expensive whiskey.

I wove through the crowd carefully and reached the elevator. Got stopped.

"Miss, upstairs is for VIPs only. Can't just go up." The attendant looked me up and down—my wet clothes—eyes dismissive.

Anger flared. I yanked the VIP card from my purse and threw it in his face. When he saw the King family crest, his expression shifted to horror.

"I'm so sorry! Mrs. King, I thought you were—" He stammered, fumbling with the elevator button, running to grab a towel.

I ignored his groveling, smoothed my dress, and stepped into the elevator. Dabbed at the water on my clothes.

I'd rushed out impulsively. Couldn't show up looking like this.

The top floor was quiet as another world. The thick carpet absorbed every footstep.

Heart racing, I reached the VIP room. My hand touched the handle, then froze.

The door wasn't shut completely. Left a tiny gap. Low music leaked through.

Male laughter drifted out. Glasses clinking.

"Cassian, I heard your sweet little wife has a birthday today. Why aren't you home with her?" A man's voice, heavy with mockery. "I know it's a business marriage, but this is cold even for you."

I held my breath, stared at that crack. Then I heard Cassian's voice.

"Luna?" His voice was low, slightly slurred from drinking, but sharp as a scalpel, publicly dissecting my dignity. "Don't... mention that cheap woman... The way she is now, so obedient, so pathetic, always cowering... It's repulsive. Kills any feeling I might have. She's like a boring puppet. God, every time I walk through that door, all I want is to escape."

Someone hesitated, then laughed. "At least Luna's famous for being beautiful. Great body too."

"Oh, please... If it wasn't for controlling the company, I never would've agreed to this arranged marriage!" Cassian's voice suddenly got louder.

"What's a good body matter when she's so boring that... even in bed she's stiff as a board, like she's completing anassignment." He paused, laughed shortly—lazy, weary. "A home that only exists for profit—every second there is torture."

"Poor married man..."

The room erupted in laughter.

I froze. Heart stopped. Ears ringing. Stomach churning.

I thought my compliance was maintaining this marriage. Thought my understanding might earn his pity.

But in his world, that tenderness translated to "cheap" and "boring."

I wanted to run. Legs felt like lead.

I reached out for something to support my swaying body. The door wasn't latched—my hand accidentally pushed it open wider.

Inside, dim lighting. Cassian slumped on the couch, shirt unbuttoned, tie crooked, eyes glazed.

And Sloane sat beside him, pressed tight against him, fingers tracing his shirt cuff, smile seductive.