Page 81 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Thirty-Six
Iris
“That won’t be necessary,” I say.
“Are you able to drive?” Tony asks, looking at my shaking hands.
Although his tone is calm and even, there’s a hint of rage seething underneath. I move a little so that his back will be to Jamie Thornton. Keep Tony’s eyes off him and there will be less reason to start beating him again.
The thought is strangely comforting. I need every scrap of protection and sense of security I can get. I’m not certain what it means that I’m getting both from this stranger, but I do. He will keep me safe. I know it at the most basic level—the one that lets me play piano pieces I didn’t know I’d mastered.
“I’m taking you home. Period.” He moves closer, shielding me with his body.
And I appreciate it that he’s like a wall around me, keeping me safe. I can sense the curious gazes from people in the lobby, and the last thing I want to do is deal with them.
As he takes me to the main lobby, he texts someone rapidly. I keep my head down and walk as quickly as I can to leave the hotel—and the ugly near-rape experience—behind. Tony matches my pace.
But this evening just isn’t going to go my way.
“Iris! Wait!”
I turn and see Marty. He’s coming toward us, his step light and fast. Cringing, I pull my hair forward to hide the smeared makeup and look away.
Tony narrows his eyes. He looks like he’d love nothing more than to start hitting someone else. And Marty will do.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were coming,” he says to Tony, then starts to reach for me. “Where are you going?”
Tony shifts, blocking Marty’s hand. “I’m taking her home.”
Marty takes in the jacket around me. From the shrewd look on his face, some kind of feverish calculation is going on. “What about the reception? Iris, you’re supposed—”
“The guests in there can amuse themselves without live music,” Tony says. “It isn’t like they’re children.”
Marty jerks his gaze toward Tony. “Didn’t you bring a date?” he says almost too aggressively. “How will she get home if you bail on her?”
I inhale sharply. The idea Tony might have a date never crossed my mind. The notion sets my teeth on edge for some reason.
“I came alone.” His expression the very definition of cold apathy and disdain, Tony dismisses Marty with the arch of an eyebrow.
A gleaming silver Cullinan pulls up. The driver emerges—a mountain of a man in a suit, one whose dark eyes miss nothing and has as much hair below his nose as above it. He nods at Tony, then almost falters when he notices me. I sense Tony shake his head, a subtle gesture, and the driver’s mouth flattens as he opens the door.
Their silent communication bothers me. I’m certain Tony won’t hurt me, but this chauffeur, who looks like he should’ve been born thousands of years ago as a Visigoth warlord, is another story. He’s giving off a vibe like the only reason he’s behaving toward me is Tony.
“She owes me a dance,” Marty interjects suddenly.
I slowly turn to stare at his face, which rapidly turns red. He and I have never danced, and I have no intention of changing that. Why would he toss out such an unbelievable lie? Because he doesn’t want me to leave with Tony? It makes me want to do the exact opposite.
Tony’s eyes glint with derision. “You’ll just have to find yourself a new dance partner. Surely you’re capable of accomplishing that much on your own.”
Marty takes a step forward, his hands clenched.
The last thing I need is another fight. “I’m not dancing with anyone tonight,” I say, tugging at Tony’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for an answer, I climb into the car. He follows me in, and the door closes with a solid, comforting thunk.
I give the driver instructions to my place. He grunts and maneuvers the car away from the hotel.
Now that I have a moment to gather myself, I take in the opulent luxury and wealth etched in every line of the interior. The engine purrs quietly in the dark, and I can’t help but feel a slight tremor inside, like a small aftershock from an earthquake. It’s probably an aftereffect of what almost happened in the courtyard. Although Jamie looked at me in that slightly creepy way, he seemed harmless. I’d never, ever have suspected he’d try something like that at a business function. He knows I’m Sam’s niece. Did he not care what would happen if he got caught? Or does he not care about keeping his business relationship with Sam?
