Page 54 of Sixth Sin

“Will you lower your fucking voice?”

“What happens if the real Alexandra shows up?” she continues, shoving a finger in my chest. “Because if you think I’m taking the fall for this, you’re insane.”

Gritting my teeth, I back her up until she stumbles into the wall, and with a low growl, I cage her in. “As long as you keep your mouth shut, Rubio doesn’t have shit. My contacts at QuestTech can’t be traced.”

“And the real Alexandra Romanov?”

I glance to the left where that damn portrait stares back at me. “Trust me, if she hasn’t come forward by now, she won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“She doesn’t want to be found for a reason, rook.” Shaking my head, I push away from the wall, putting distance between us before I do something stupid. I glance around at the house drenched in blood and secrecy one last time. “Would you want to come back to this?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I’m across the foyer headed toward the elevator.

All I hear is the frantic click-clack of Angel’s heels, and then she’s behind me, grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt. “You’re really leaving. Just like that.”

“Yeah. Just like that.”

“But what about the party?” she yells, her nails digging into my skin through the thin fabric. “You agreed to that, not me. Michaela said the press will be there. They’re expecting to see you, Dominic. What am I supposed to tell them if you don’t—”

Fuck it.

Turning around, I crush my mouth onto hers, swallowing the rest of her tirade. As pissed as she is, she doesn’t pull away, instead, transferring her anger into the kiss. Our tongues twist in frantic need and lust, and hate, and whatever the hell this is blotting out common sense.

Her nails scrape down my back as my hands dig into that uptight hairdo. The more she moans, the more my brain wars with my dick, and I have to admit, right now, I’m team dick.

Until my phone rings and knocks some sense back into me.

Pulling away, I lick my lips, watching as her pupils dilate. “I am the press, rook.” I give her an arrogant wink as my phone rings again. “See you Friday, Miss Romanov.”

I don’t answer until the fourth time he calls. I’m driving down Stone Canyon Road when I hit the button on the hands-free device. “I was wondering how long it would take you to call.”

His low chuckle grates on my nerves, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel. “I have to hand it to you, McCallum, I expected you to do a lot of crazy shit to save your own ass, but faking an heiress? That was brilliant.”

“I didn’t pull anything, Rosten. Alexandra’s the real deal. The estate confirmed it. Besides, you’re hardly one to talk. Not after the shit you pulled at Moss Valley.”

“I was simply downsizing.”

I slam my foot on the gas, blowing through a red light. “This is between you and me, asshole, not my mother.” Damn it, I need to pull it together. “Fate smiled down on me for once,” I say, forcing an even tone. “I was at the right place at the right time.”

Fate always finds a way.

“Speaking of your mother, meet me at my office in an hour,” he says, dragging me out of the muddled memory. “We have business to discuss.”

I laugh. “We have nothing to discuss. I have the money to pay your bullshit settlement and get my lawyers off my back now. Our business is finished.”

There’s dead silence.

“Is that right? Why don’t you check the email I just sent you and then see how finished we are?” A sadistic laugh echoes through the line. “See you in an hour, McCallum.”

The line goes dead. Grabbing my phone from the passenger’s seat, I scroll through my email and click the one from an unrecognizable address. There’s no text—only an attachment.

Once it downloads, my blood pressure hits stroke level.

“Motherfucker.”

It was taken two weeks ago outside my house. A clear shot of Angel splayed out on the lounge chair with my fingers buried inside her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

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