Page 4 of Royal Sin

“Um, just a pet project,” I hedged.

“Are you an author, Miss Anna?” Baldwin took a sip of that boiling, bitter brew.

“Aspiring.” And already this man knew more about me than even my best friend.

“Well, when you do publish, I’ll pick up a copy.” He took another sip, hiding the teasing smile. “You’ll sign it for me, of course? To make up for stealing my drink?”

“I didn’t steal it!” The rebuttal was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

The outrage made him smirk even harder. “If you say so. It was lovely to meet you, little author.”

“You too,” I breathed.

With a final smirk, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing softly against the pavement. The air seemed to hold its breath as he vanished into the distance, leaving behind a sense of finality and a lingering whisper of what once was.

I stared at the empty doorway, my heart pounding in my chest like a trapped bird. The espresso machine hissed behind me, grounding me back in reality. Baldwin was gone, but the impression of him—those obsidian eyes, the way his voice rumbled like distant thunder—remained imprinted on my senses.

Sinking back into my chair, I closed my laptop with trembling fingers. The screen light winked out, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The plan had worked. Our “accidental” meeting had gone off without a major hitch, despite his suspicion about the coffee handoff. I’d established contact, made myself memorable. Phase one: complete.

But what I hadn’t accounted for was the way my skin still tingled where his fingers had brushed mine. The way my name had sounded different somehow when shaped by his mouth. Little author…I liked that too much. It was personal and broached on territory I wasn’t ready to explore.

Chapter 3

His deep voice broke through the particularly passionate scene. “You’re back.”

I balked, quickly clicking out of the Word document and into a screen playing background music to the one earbud on my left side.

“Hi!” I breathed, grateful that the surprise was genuine. “Hi, Americano, how are you?”

He frowned slightly. “Americano?”

I gestured to the cup in his hand. “That nasty swill you’re drinking.”

“As opposed to the….” He read the printed label on mine. “Lavender matcha latte?”

Breathe!I gathered my wits about me. I came early to force myself to finish this section of the book, not anticipating losing myself to the whirlwind romance between the prince of shadows and the gifted human he stole from the Earth Realm.

“Writing again today?” Leonard moved to the chair on the opposite side of the table, giving me space but claiming the area at the same time.

Swallowing past the surprise, I smiled. “I found the atmosphere productive.”

“Atmosphere,” Leonard hummed, his eyes tracking from my laptop to the window beside us. Rain tapped against the glass, a gray curtain blurring the world outside. “It is something, isn’t it?”

I nodded, trying not to stare as he settled against the chair. Damn, but he was good-looking. His suit might be tailored and no doubt expensive, but he wore it like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. There was nothing clean-cut about him besides the designer business attire. He was a rogue, sent to devour the innocents in the corporate world.

And I was the little fool plotting to trap him and convince him to help me.

“So what’s it about?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“What’s what about?” I came back to the present from the tangled web of plots running through my mind.

“The writing.” His eyes flicked to my laptop. “You closed it quickly. Must be something fascinating.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “Just a story. What about you? Is this your stomping ground because of the atmosphere?”

“Because it’s close to work.” He flicked a glance at his watch.

“Must be important work if the clock holds such a vise on your time,” I quipped.

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