Page 57 of King of Sinners

“But you won’t,” he answers unconcerned. And then he shifts his rearview mirror gaze to Roman. “He can’t stop touching her. Got to have his hands on her all the time.”

My skin crawls to hear Jackson speak like that. I am a man of infinite control. “Would you two stop acting like a couple of old women?” But I know the truth. They’ve both figured out that I am not in control at all when it comes to Charlotte. That I’m about to lose everything. I feel the truth crawling up my spine and I wait for Roman’s inevitable questions. Who will take over when I come undone…

Only…neither seems that concerned.

“She is a looker,” Roman nods, agreeing with his own words.

“Beautiful women are everywhere,” I respond but I know it isn’t true. No woman has ever affected me like Charlotte.

And Roman knows it too. “Soft, sweet, submissive,” he adds, ticking off the list on his fingers.

“You know the rules just as well as I do.”

“Mason, you’re a fucking king. Make the rules, don’t follow them.”

I star at him without a response because he’s right. I made the rules to begin with…

Is it because Roman was younger when our father died that he isn’t worried about my relationship with Charlotte? Because this is not at all what I expected.

My phone dings, Charlotte’s name popping up. She’s asking about purchasing a photo album. I stare at the message, shaking my head.

I’ve been worried about the woman all day and now I’m getting this totally benign message about photo albums?

I send a message back telling her to forward me a link from Amazon. The three dots appear and I wait, realizing I’m holding my breath. What the hell is wrong with me?

I want to buy it myself. Can I have it shipped here? Do you not want my name on packages? I could give you money.

I stare at the screen. She doesn’t even have a job and I’m worth well over a billion dollars? This is a ridiculous conversation, and also, why would she not want me to buy it for her?

I’m back to worried. Who’s the old woman now?

My fingers fly over the screen as I start to fire back a text that says as much when Roman begins laughing. I look over at him, my stare so fierce, he stops laughing, but he’s still grinning. “What?” I bark.

“Just admit you’ve fallen hard.”

I snort but that knot in my stomach only tightens, expanding to my chest. Because Roman is right. “We don’t do love.”

Roman shrugs, settling back into his seat as Jackson pulls into the garage in my building. He’ll drop me and then take Roman home. It’s how we usually do these sorts of things and I know that both Roman and Jackson have noted how eager I am to return to my apartment.

I just fucking missed Charlotte, and what’s more, we have several things to talk about. It might be time to come clean and to maybe move forward? I have no idea what that even looks like.

On the one hand, I’ve spent almost my entire adult life building this business and I know it means losing the support of Jake, Luke, and fucking Leo if I choose Charlotte.

On the other…my life would feel hollow and empty without her. I’m starting to be able to admit that to myself.

Which is crazy. I haven’t even been inside her yet. And yet, the signs have been there for a while. It’s in the way I want her to wear my ring.

The way I can’t keep my hands off her. The way I almost lost all my shit when that fucking Professor Burke tried to hurt her.

I get out of the car with hardly a goodbye and punch a button on my phone to open the elevator, typing in the new code.

The doors slide open and I step inside, letting out a long breath of air, trying to loosen my muscles.

The ride is short, and when I step out, an amazing smell hits my nose. It’s Asian, but it’s not salty soy sauce heavy, it’s delicate and savory all in one.

Striding out of the hall, I find Charlotte in the kitchen, pale blue dress and a white apron adorning her body, her hair pinned back in a neat twist. Her feet are bare as she stands at the counter and the picture is just too much. It steals my breath.

“Hello,” she smiles over her shoulder as she chops red peppers. “You’re home early.”

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