Page 30 of Sixth Sin


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Violet lands a heavy hand on both my shoulders. “You listen to me. Angel Smith may chip, but she does not break.” Letting go, she steps back and tips her chin toward the door. “Now, go on, before I do something stupid like cry.”

I wish she would. I wish she’d fall down on her knees and beg me not to go. I wish she’d tell me this whole thing is an impending disaster, and I’m a fool for falling for Dominic McCallum’s convincing words and intoxicating kisses.

If she did, I’d stay. But she doesn’t, so I don’t.

“Well, I guess that’s it.” I’m not good at goodbyes, so I give her a tight smile. “See ya.”

She nods. “See ya.”

I turn to leave when Violet throws her arms around me in a hug so fierce, I can barely breathe. “Be careful, Ang,” she whispers into my hair. “Remember, he’s made a living out of playing people.”

I have to blink a few times to absorb her words. Detangling her hold, I grasp her shoulders and choke out a nervous laugh. “Whoa, you’re the one who set this in motion. Now you’re warning me?”

“Just watch your back. A man like that has two faces, and you never see the ugly one until it’s too late.” Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she manages a half-hearted smile. “As long as you don’t fall blindly in love with the pretty one and forget that, you’ll be okay.”

“So, what do you think?”

I glance up, my brows knitting together as Dominic stands over me, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. “I’m sorry, what?”

He cocks his head. “You’ve seemed kind of off since we left the bar. Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay, but I can’t tell him that. I can’t replay the conversation I had with Violet. The one where she warned me he was Jekyll and Hyde wrapped up in a Calvin Klein ad. He’s already proven he’ll railroad anyone who gets in his way. I know that first-hand. I won’t let him drag her name through the dirt.

I fidget under the weight of his stare, my eyes burning with tears I refuse to let fall. I hate emotion. I hate the person I become when I let it in. Vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. Weak. That’s why I love acting. It provides the ideal platform for turning on and off at will.

I force a weak smile. “It’s just a lot to take in.” Before he can probe anymore, I change the subject. “So, what did you ask me again?”

I can tell he doesn’t buy a damn thing I’m saying, but to my relief, he lets it go. “I asked you what you thought about leaving the rest of this stuff here. You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t have much to pack.” He motions to the beat-up suitcase sitting on my bed. “Most of your clothes and shoes fit in this. So, unless you have any sentimental—”

“I don’t.”

“It’s okay if—”

“I said, I don’t, okay?” I should’ve let it drop, but for some reason my mouth keeps moving and words keep spilling out. “I learned pretty young not to get attached to stuff. It just gets taken away.”

I’m not surprised when he doesn’t answer. What’s he supposed to say to something like that? Oh, poor little orphan, sorry your life was shit, here’s another twenty bucks?

Fuck that. I don’t need a handout.

Other than a five hundred-thousand-dollar handout, you mean.

I cringe as we’re plunged into an awkward silence neither of us seems to know how to navigate. Dominic tips his head back and rubs his knuckles up and down his neck. I rock back and forth on the floor, bouncing an anxious gaze from wall to wall, trying not to stare at how the corded muscles in his neck stretch under his fingers. Trying not to stare at how he pushes his tongue against the back of his top teeth on a hard exhale.

“A man like that has two faces, and you never see the ugly one until it’s too late. As long as you don’t fall blindly in love with the pretty one and forget that, you’ll be okay.”

Damn it, why does he have to be so pretty?

Dropping his hands, he lets out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

Yep. Second. Third. Fourth.

I run my finger over a stain on the carpet, my gaze drifting toward the window. “No, I made a promise and I’m keeping it.”

“Hey.” Bending down, he crooks his finger under my chin. “Don’t be scared. Trust me. I’ve got this.”

“Don’t be scared, little one. Trust me. I’ve got this.”

I freeze. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to chase after the words as they fade back into that locked place that scratches in the back of my head.

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