Page 6 of King of Sinners

I make some small noise in the back of my throat like trapped prey. Because I am. I’ve stepped out of the frying pan and fallen straight into the fire.

CHAPTER TWO

Charlotte

The car pulls into an underground garage, the tires bumping smoothly over the speedbump meant to slow cars. We don’t.

I’m gripping the handle again, my fingers clenched so tightly around the leather, my knuckles have turned white.

I haven’t spoken since the call, and I’d hardly spoken before that. I’m not sure why, other than it doesn’t matter. Nothing I might say is going to change anything that’s about to happen to me.

Swallowing down my fear, I draw in a deep breath as the car glides smoothly into a parking spot right in front of an elevator.

Roman gets out, circling the car and opening my door. I could cry. Beg not to go inside. Mason warned me two years ago what would happen to me if I caused trouble. The limo ride after the incident in the club was the stuff of nightmares and they’ve filled mine often enough.

I know who Mason is. Yes, he’s perfectly poised all the time because he’s barely human. He’s an animal, a predator. One I’ve been trying to escape.

And now I’m walking right into the lair of the beast.

Roman pushes the button on the elevator, the doors slide open. It’s the first time, other than that very first moment, that I hesitate, but as his hand comes to my back to see me into the enclosed box meant to bring me straight to my death, I can’t make my feet move forward.

“Please,” the word comes out a soft plea. I know it’s useless. The hesitation, the appeal for mercy, but I make it anyway. One feeble attempt at changing my fate.

“Princess,” Roman slides his foot in front of the door to keep it from closing, the pressure of his hand at my back increasing. “While your please is very pretty, almost as lovely as your face, save them for Mason. Pretty pleases are your best chance for help.”

I nod and step into the elevator, turning to watch the doors close and the parking garage disappear.

Roman hits the P at the very top of the rows of fifty buttons and I know we’re heading for the penthouse. The elevator glides up the Vegas skyscraper. I should have noted which building we entered, where we are, but I’m not sure I care.

I’m bone-tired, but not just tonight. In general. Everything is a struggle and I’m not sure I want to fight so much.

The elevator slows and the doors slide open. I step into the large room, Roman’s hand still at my back. The room boasts panoramic wraparound views of the Las Vegas skyline, the glittering lights set to a canvas of black filling the view of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

A configuration of tables is set up in the space in the shape of a U, thirty settings with half-eaten food and folders of paperwork littering the tables as though moments ago, this place was filled with people.

Now there is only one.

But he still fills the space.

Mason Kincaid stands in the center of the U like the king he is, fine suit accentuating the breadth of his shoulders. His arms are crossed, his height dwarfing me from fifteen feet away.

I stutter step in my sneakers, knowing that I was always building to this very moment. Why did I even bother to fight it?

I’ve got nothing left in my veins as Roman and I stop three feet from him.

I’m still in awe of this man. He’s a bit older, a touch of grey sprinkling his temples. How does that make him look hotter?

His jaw is hard enough to cut glass, his brown eyes so dark they are almost black. The only soft thing about him is his mouth, full and sensuous, even set in a hard line, it’s gorgeous and I find myself staring at this one feature. I’d like to trace its edges, know its shape.

“Charlotte.”

My name on his lips does little to quell my fears. It’s hard, rough, angry. Interestingly, it sparks a bit of life back into my limbs and I find myself standing straighter.

I must be a picture.

White sneakers, black mini skirt, Roman’s leather jacket. No style points are going to save me. “Mason.” His name isn’t a challenge. It isn’t a plea either. It might be a sigh. He’s dominated the last two years of my life even though I haven’t laid eyes on him.

And he still evokes this reaction no man has before.

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