Page 2 of Royal Sin

I tapped the plastic stir stick against the cocktail. “Nope, your chin is weird, Gavin.”

Shifting to the side, I peered around the casually dressed golfers mingling for drinks after the game.

“You gamble, Rodney.”Tap.“Your mother isn’t liked on the charity boards, Christopher.”Tap. Tap.“And you, Connor, like animals more than humans—and not in the regular way.”

With a sigh, I leaned back on the half-wall where I’d been hiding for the last thirty minutes, making a list of potential suitors. The pool of guys my age who my parents wouldn’t approve of was small to begin with. There was potential to widen my net at another event, perhaps, but this was the baseline I had to work with.

Besides, these were all boys. Sure, they might be anywhere from eighteen to twenty-five, but when push came to shove, none of them would stand up to my parents.

“No, I need a man.” Drawing my shoulders back, I hopped off the stone ledge. Before I returned to mingle with my peers, I tossed the cocktail glass into the shrubbery.

The glass landed with a muted crash. I winced but kept walking. Someone would find the pieces eventually—probably one of the underpaid staff who worked here. A twinge of guilt pinched me, but I brushed it away. I had bigger problems than littering, and being caught drinking underage wasn’t one of them.

I drifted through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, accepting air kisses from women who whispered cruel observations the moment I passed. The country club was its own special hell—a gilded cage where everyone pretended to like each other while secretly cataloging every flaw, every misstep.

“Darling!” My mother’s voice cut through the ambient chatter. She glided toward me, martini in hand, not a hair out of place.“Where have you been hiding? The Prestons have been asking about you.”

The Prestons’ son had just entered law school at Harvard and would be looking for a suitable wife in a few years. Paul was the last boy on earth I would attach myself to. If my parents had their way, I would finish school, marry Paul—or another cookie-cut version, and dazzle society with my vigor and time spent making acontribution, all while my husband would do battle in the corporate or political world, discreetly cheating on me one moment and then appearing the doting husband in public.

I smoothed down the dress Serena had helped me pick out and joined my parents, scanning the room with new purpose. This was not going to be my future. I was destined for greater things than to be another brick in the wall. I might have had more freedom than my friend, who was never let out of the house, but the chain was still there. What was expected of me was written in stone.

Well, stone could be broken with the right application of force.

Mr. Preston droned on about the market with my father, while Mrs. Preston and my mother chatted about a committee they were both on the board of. The young stag was nowhere to be found—thank my stars. So I stood awkwardly, a polished decoration to boast of the merits of the family that sired me. Margot Preston was in the same boat, fidgeting next to her mother.

Looking around the patio, I wondered if there was another bartender I could trick into fixing me a drink. It never was a good plan to go to the same one twice. Flirting my way into a beverage was an art, and smiles and charm only went so far before the staff expected more for the risk of their assistance. I preferred to be parched rather than kiss the staff for a drink.

As I debated my thirsty situation, something black shifted in the sea of white, baby blue, and khaki.

The crowd parted, and I sucked in a surprised breath.

He stood apart from the usual clusters of golf shirts and boat shoes, nursing something amber and neat at the bar. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck. Too long to be considered proper by country club standards. Maybe thirty? Definitely older than the boys I’d been crossing off my list.

But it wasn’t those qualities that kept me looking.

There was something about him. I would have defined it as sinister if that wasn’t crazy. My imagination did tend to run with itself. He was likely a business shark and, therefore carried himself with authority—nothing more.

“Who is that?” I whispered to Margot, who knew everyone’s business, trained as the perfect society hostess, a carbon copy of her mother.

Margot flicked a glance to the side. Her eyes widened, and she shifted violently. “Leonard Baldwin. New money, and not…proper.”

Not proper.Something warm slid through me. That was something I could work with.

“How long until your graduation at Kilton, Margot?” I asked, not wanting to show any more interest now that I had a mark.

“Oh! The ceremony is in two weeks. I’m on the event committee, and we are just up to our eyeballs in last-minute details,” Margot began, waxing elegantly about her prestigious role at the private academy I escaped last year.

Nodding along as though I cared, I watched my prey from the corner of my eye.Leonard Baldwin….He did have some kind of aura about him. If Margot reacted that way, if the lack of club members swarming him, if the fact that he seemed like he would rather stick a fork in his hand than be here, were any indication, this target might be perfect.

One of the McDougals went to speak with the enigma. Baldwin arched a brow slightly at what was being said, but let McDougal lead him away toward the club’s prestigious restaurant and wine cellar. It made me wish we were dining at Cru tonight so I could continue to watch and gather intel. But I didn’t want Baldwin seeing me.

No, if he was going to be my mark, I would have to craft a scenario that put me in his path by accident…and make him come back for more.

Chapter 2

The downtown café was alive with customers. Steam rose from ceramic mugs, and the rhythmic tapping of laptop keys competed with the whir of the espresso machine. In the corner, I sipped my third coffee, watching the door with eager anticipation. A generous tip to a blabbering receptionist gave me the intel. Right on time, the businessman walked through the door. His gaze slid over the crowd, as if scanning for a threat.

Something slithered through me. It was such an odd way to enter a space. Every other customer, myself included, had entered, glued to their phones, moving with direct purpose to the line for the counter. Not this CEO. No, he paused, looked, and only when his assessment was satisfactory did he venture into the interior of the shop.

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