Page 69 of Masked Sins
Kai shrugs. “Busy.”
I swipe his soda from his hand and take a sip. “Doing what? Praying?”
He smirks. “Funny. But no, I’m helping a friend with some renovations.”
“You have friends?” I tease.
He huffs a laugh. “Julian. He just moved back to Crestwood from London.”
My brows shoot up as I look at Liam—and my oldest brother just sips his drink and looks away as if he doesn’t want to get involved.
“Julian, as in your best friend growing up?” I hedge.
Kai shrugs. “We reconnected recently. They don’t know anyone here, so I offered to help around the house with some small repairs.”
“They?”
Kai looks away. “Julian and his wife, Sophie.”
I steal another sip of his drink. Malakai and Julian were… close. I always wondered if they were more than friends. As far as I know, nothing ever happened between them, but one day they stopped talking, and a few weeks later, Kai went off to seminary school, and Julian moved back to London, where he’d spent his childhood. And despite Kai dating around here and there—he’s not celibate like a priest, after all—nothing serious ever panned out. Now that he’s headmaster, he waxes poetic about being too busy to date, but sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever find someone to settle down with.
“Miles is meeting us at the pub down the street,” Liam tells us, pocketing his phone. “Shall we?”
“Yeah. Give me a second to make sure everyone’s good here before I take off for the night. Meet you there?”
Kai gives me a high five as Liam waves over his shoulder. Once they’re gone, I take a deep breath and walk over to the bar, hands still shaking from my conversation with Layla.
I check in with the bartenders, and then I walk back to the employee room to grab my jacket, slowly pulling my arms through the sleeves and mentally preparing myself for an onslaught of questions from four of my brothers.
It’s only luck that Chase and his wife, Juliet, don’t live in Crestwood anymore. There’s no way in hell my next oldest brother wouldn’t be able to see through the facade I’m attempting to project.
My regular phone pings, and I check my notifications. The only person I get notifications for is my stepsister, but the image and caption that comes through on her social media nearly knocks me over.
She’s laughing and holding up a bottle of beer with her right hand—the hand bearing the gold bracelet I gave her. It’s slightly blurry, but of course she’s fucking gorgeous.
And the caption …
Yours.
I realize then that I’ll do whatever it takes to make Layla truly mine.
Not just Starboy’s.
Mine.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PHANTOM
Layla
Taking a deep breath, I stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. I’d rented the dress for the night—the actual cost of it was three times my mortgage—and I could tell the dress was exquisite from the way the fabric hugged my body, clinging in all the right places. Stella, Mile’s wife, had helped me pick it out last week.
The shoulder held its shape perfectly on one side, while the bodice offered full support and a slight stretch for comfort. The dress is a floor-length black gown with an A-line silhouette, featuring a high slit along my right thigh. One half is sleeveless, while the other drapes elegantly over my shoulder, the black material clinging to my arm down to my wrist.
It’s classic and modest on the sleeved side but shows off a lot of my chest and collarbone on the other side.
I’d paired it with clear pumps that had flowers embedded into the synthetic material. They’re gorgeous, but they’re not the most comfortable—still, I hardly ever get dressed up outside of performances, so I liked having an excuse to wear them.
