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Not to mention that I’m twisting the shit out of his arm.
“I-I can’t,” he whines. “Mother will never agree to it.”
“Look, prick, you either have her call Genesis tonight…” I apply a little more pressure and the tears (I believe some of pain, some of anger, and I pray, mostly from embarrassment) fall from his eyes. “Or you can take your chances on the streets.”
It takes only seconds for him to agree. I help him up with a hand under his elbow and Matt leaves after scrabbling up his papers, backing away as though I was going to grab him at any moment and give him the ass-kicking he deserved.
Forty minutes after Matt’s departure, Sin comes into my office. I’ve known moments of pure joy working with the Grayson Foundation. Sin gives me that same feeling after being separated for a day an hour, hell, even a minute.
With her hair in a bun the size of a dinner plate, her mouth stretched into a wide smile, and her eyes alight with the experiences of the day, she is a vision.
I erase the sour taste Matt left in my mouth by pulling her in for a long kiss, cutting off whatever she was about to say. And as I explore her mouth like I’m tasting it for the first time, I find it is as sweet as ever.
What it all Boils Down To
Royce
ThecallfromMatt’smother comes in just as we are finishing up the dishes from the dinner I cooked.
Sin picks up her phone and frowns at it. Her brow creases and she pokes out her lip.“It’s Matt’s mother. What in the hell does she want?”
As we got in the car to go to the penthouse, Sin asked if Matt had come by. I told her he had. She grew silent, and staring out the windshield as I drove, she watched the scenery flash by.
I was content to have her do so. Questions from her would only have me telling lies by omitting the truth.
Her phone rings again and Sin stares at the device as if it had grown fangs that drip blood.
“Answer it,” I tell her.
“Royce, I don’t want—“
“Answer it, Sin.” I lift my hand from the wet dish towel and squeeze her shoulder.
She sighs, and the shoulder under my hand heaves with the effort. With her tongue slightly poking from the side of her mouth, she accepts the call.
“Ginger, what can I do for you?”
I should have told Sin to put the conversation on speaker. I want to hear if Ginger Miller is convincing or just going through the motions.
She had better be the former. Otherwise, her baby boy will be out of a job before he starts his first day.
While Ginger performs on the other end of the line, I search Sin’s eyes for some clue what is being said. When she catches me staring, she avoids my gaze by shifting her browns to the floor.
For some minutes, Sin stands motionless, her body neither tense or relaxed.
What is Matt’s mother telling her?
My curiosity has me straining to hear even the slightest word. I can’t. Matt’s mother is probably speaking in whispers to keep her shame quiet. Shame in being forced to apologize and not because she is truly sorry for doing Sin wrong.
The son is so like the mother. I bet Matt’s dad was happy to leave that den of vipers.
After another minute, Sin says, “Yes, I suppose…yes, I understand. I let what happened between us go.” Her gaze rivets to mine, and what she says next makes my heart clench. “True love helped me get over the negativity in my life. I hope that one day, you will find it. Goodbye Ginger and thanks for calling.”
Sin hangs up. Tapping her phone on her palm, her gaze remains on mine. “You had a hand in this, didn’t you?”
I shrug. I won’t be answering one way or another. Some things have to remain private.
Like my methods of getting people to do what I want.
