Page 132 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
“As long as there’s no blood to clean up,” Julie says weakly.
“Don’t worry. You stay here. I’ll handle this myself.”
I trot upstairs and into my bedroom. Three suitcases are laid open—one on the bed and two on the floor. Sam’s dumping my clothes and shoes into one of them.
“What do you think you’re doing? Don’t touch my stuff!” I say, my voice loud and sharp.
I start to move toward the bag to take my stuff out. Sam puts a hard hand on my arm and jerks me back. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You can’t make me board that plane.”
“Oh, yes, I can, Iris. And I will.”
This is too much. Sam has never physically forced me to do anything. His method is subtler, usually involving trying to guilt me into doing things his way. I want to know what’s got him acting like this. “Why are you doing this to me? I like it here, Sam!”
His jaw works like he’s rolling words in his mouth and debating which to spit at me. Finally, he says, “L.A. isn’t safe. You’re better off elsewhere.”
“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. No big city is safe.”
“You shouldn’t have let those videos get online. Or be seen with Anthony Blackwood of all people!”
So we’re back to that again? “Sam, be reasonable. I’m not going to flee the city like some criminal. And over some videos or a date with a perfectly respectable man? I have friends here. A job! Am I supposed to tell Elizabeth, ‘Great working with you for a day but adios’ because you’re freaked out about the videos—which, by the way, happen to have her brother in them?”
Sam blinks once, frenetic calculations running over his face. “You’re working for Elizabeth King?”
“Yes.”
“How do you even know her?”
“I don’t, really. I interviewed for an open position.”
“And she hired you. Like that.” He snorts, then mutters something that sounds like fucking bullshit. “It doesn’t matter. Tell her you got a better offer. The end. She can’t make you work for her.”
“No!”
“There are other jobs in the world!”
“Yes, but I want this one.”
“What’s so different about this one? You think you can be like Elizabeth if you work for her?”
“I’m not trying to be her. I’m trying to live my life. You say you want the best for me, but you won’t let me make any decisions about my life. Every time I do, you find a reason to overrule it or undermine me somehow. Like now. When you needed me to play at the reception, you pretended like you were fine with me deciding to settle down here, but now look at you! Trying to force me to go to a country halfway around the planet!”
“I’m doing this for you!”
“I’m twenty-seven years old!”
“You’re a child! You don’t know everything! You remember only what I told you.” He karate-chops his open palm after each sentence. “Your head is blank! An empty canvas.” Sam is practically screaming now.
I’m shaking so hard I’m afraid I’m going to fall. I had no idea he felt this way about me. I thought he wanted to help me recover and lead a productive life. I thought he was overprotective and worried too much about my “fragile mental state” because he saw me break down like my world was ending after waking up from the coma and learning that my parents were gone. Or that time when I tried to perform and panicked so much that I thought I was having a heart attack.
“Sorry to be such a heavy burden, Sam,” I say stiffly.
“That’s not what I mea—”
“What the hell is going on here?”
Sam swivels his head at the cold voice from Tony.
