Page 6 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Three
Anthony
Instead of changing, I go downstairs to grab a stiff drink, my eyes unfocused and unseeing. Iris’s painful nightmare cries are still haunting me, ripping out bits of my heart. How she begged, insisted she wasn’t crazy, was capable of making decisions for herself. And she dreamed of water again.
Fucking Sam.Just how many times did he throw her back into that pool, intent on making her give in to his demands?
My hands clench into tight fists. A need for violence nearly overwhelms whatever control civil society has taught me. How could I have been so arrogant as to think my declaration to ruin Sam would be enough to stop him?
“Is she awake?” Dr. Young asks from the counter, lowering her tea. I told her to help herself to whatever was in the kitchen while I kept an eye on Iris. She didn’t like it, but eventually gave up when she realized I needed some time alone with Iris, even if it was only to hold her hand.
“Yes.”
She stands. “I should go check up on her.”
“Give her a minute. She’s in the bathroom.”
“Ah.”
“She didn’t sound good.”
Dr. Young’s dark eyes instantly sharpen. “How so?”
“Emotionally. She was crying.” I pour myself a generous helping of whiskey and down it.
“The experience had to be traumatizing, based on what you said. Being dunked in a pool when you can’t swim is terrifying.” She shivers. “I can’t swim that well, either.”
“Really?” In her mid-fifties, she wears competence like a superhero wears a cape. Her precision when she works reminds of a scalpel, and—other than break the speed limit—she’s never struck me as someone who couldn’t do something.
She gestures vaguely toward the living room. “Your assistant let a guest in. I offered her some tea, but she declined.”
I glance over, and there sits Elizabeth fucking King. Wei is missing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I say. “Stalking me now?” In my peripheral vision, I note Dr. Young heading upstairs, but my bigger concern is Elizabeth at the moment.
“I’m here to say I’m sorry, Tony. How is Iris?”
“Why? Got more errands for her to run? Maybe next time you should tell her to put on a bathing suit before she goes.”
She closes her eyes briefly. “I honestly had no idea.”
“Expect me to believe that?”
“It’s true. I swear to you. I wish she’d said something—”
“Just like you told everyone about your embarrassing family dramas?”
She flushes, her mouth tight. “You’re right. I should’ve been more on top of things. Is there anything I can do?”
What the hell does she think she can do? “Is that a serious offer?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you care after accusing me of playing a game at La Mer?”
“Because something’s up. After you left with Iris, Sam told me it was an accident, but I don’t believe him. If what he’s saying is right, he should’ve brought her out of the pool, not you.”
The reminder reignites my temper. “He dragged her out of the pool, then pushed her right back in, knowing she couldn’t swim. He would’ve kept going if I hadn’t shown up.”
