Page 88 of Masked Sins
“I know.”
We eat in silence, and I talk myself down from the ledge.
I’m sorry, and it will never happen again.
Those words out of her mouth triggered the same knee-jerk panic I experienced seven years ago, and even though we were talking about something entirely different today, hearing Layla make forever promises still scares the fucking crap out of me. Hearing her declare that she couldneverlet herself be curious about me, how she couldneverallow herself to be turned on by something I do is hard.
An idea strikes me.
Maybe I’m not being obvious enough.
Maybe I’m not getting enough of a rise out of her, and she has no problem constructing and reconstructing that wall between us.
I need to do something that will throw her completely off kilter.
Something she won’t be able to stop thinking about.
Maybe I’d have to dangle the possibility oflosing mein front of her.
And I had just the thing for that.
When she finishes her breakfast, I hand her a strawberry-flavored sparkling water.
“I need to make some phone calls for Inferno. I’ll be in my office. Help yourself to anything,” I tell her brusquely.
“I’ll clean up,” she offers, hopping off her stool and gesturing to the dishes.
“Sure. Thank you.”
I turn and walk away, knowing that Layla is now intensely curious about me and my life despite telling herself she can’t feel this way about me.
On my way to my office, I stop by my bedroom and hide my burner phone in a drawer on my bedside table. And then, with a heavy sigh, I pull a turquoise bag down from the top of my closet, setting it on a shelf at about eye level.
It’s all coming together.
Smiling, I walk out of my room and down the hallway to my office, anticipation rushing through my veins.
The bait is set, and now all I have to do is wait for Layla to take it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE JEALOUSY
Layla
I amuse myself with my Kindle for an hour, but being in Orion’s house has me feeling restless and inquisitive. I don’t have to teach ballet intensive for three more hours, so after reading the same page several times, I set my Kindle on the coffee table before reaching down and petting Sparrow. He’s oddly comfortable here, purring contentedly as he dozes at my feet. When I stand, he looks up at me for a second before setting his head back down and rolling over onto his back, stretching.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I mumble resignedly. “You’re enjoying this life of luxury, aren’t you?”
He meows in response, yawning and closing his eyes, completely blissed out.
I chuckle as I stand and stretch. Slowly walking around the living room, I take in all the details to get a better picture of my stepbrother, but there’s almost nothing personable in here. I’d visited once or twice when Chase lived here, and it looks like Orion didn’t makeanychanges when he took over the deed to the apartment. Aside from the pool and massive aviary, ofcourse. Walking into the kitchen, I open the pantry and glance at his food again. There are a lot of ingredients I overlooked earlier, which means he probably cooks a lot. That makes sense, seeing as he made me waffles from scratch.
You can tell a lot about someone based on their food, and Orion seems to prioritize cooking. I think back to when we lived under the same roof. I suppose he used to cook a lot back then, too. He’d oftentimes make food for the four of us, and it was only when he started drinking more that he stopped.
Swallowing, I walk into the dining room next. It’s beautiful, looking over the Los Angeles basin and the ocean a few miles past that. There’s a table with his mail, but it looks like it’s all utility bills and spam.
I walk back out into the living area and down the hallway to the wide stairway. I hadn’t realized there was a second story, so I walk upstairs where I’m surprised to see another small kitchen, a home theater, a game room, and a gym. None of them have anything personal, so I’m in and out in a minute. I don’t even know what I’m searching for—something to show me who he is, I guess. Something tangible.
