Page 150 of The Sinner's Bargain

I had fucking plans for her and that white dress and my bed. All night. Maybe all fucking week.

She kissed me again on the lips this time. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, but I gritted my jaw and kicked open the door. I carried her over and set her down on the carpet. A gust of wind blew in, toying with the sheer layers of her skirt. Naya winced and turned her head in the direction of the windows. Her eyebrows creased.

I followed her gaze to the open panel spilling the cool, afternoon breeze into the room filling it with the smell of the lake, wet grass and pine with just a hint of muggy swamp.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember opening that.”

A chill scuttled up my spine as I stared at the center panel with the freshest coat of paint. It was the window Constance had fallen through. I didn’t even know it opened. Maybe that was a new thing the contractor had put in.

I stalked across the room and yanked it shut. I snapped the bolt into place to lock it.

I turned to Cyrus in the doorway. “Were the cleaners here today?”

He shook his head. “They come tomorrow.”

I kept the rest of my questions bottled, not wanting to scare Naya when I faced her, stubbornly keeping my face neutral.

“The latch was probably loose and the wind opened it,” I decided for both our sakes.

She nodded, not looking worried. “Probably.”

I leaned in and kissed her between the brows before starting for Cyrus.

“You have five minutes,” I told her over my shoulder and heard her laugh.

“Fifteen.”

I stopped at the door and planted a hand on the knob. My gaze lifted to where she stood in her white dress, hair a golden wave around her shoulders, her face soft and pink from the chill.

I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t help it.

“Ten.” I countered, giving her a grin before shutting the door. I turned to the dark, irritating figure waiting behind me. “Someone better be dead or on fire,” I growled low under my breath as I faced him.

In true Cyrus fashion, he gave no sign he was worried, but I knew the hard tilt in his lips. The set fury in his eyes was not because of me.

“Ronin is here,” he muttered, and I cursed.

“What the fuck does he want?”

Cyrus fell into step alongside me as I started towards the stairs.

He couldn’t possibly know about Naya. We just got married less than two hours ago and Ronin was not that connected. Not unless someone in my house told him, which was impossible because my people were paid and paid very well to keep their mouths shut. So, it had to be something else. Some other bullshit reason.

Maybe he needed more money.

Maybe he wanted to see what my progress was so he could start getting sale quotes for the house.

Whatever the case, he would be leaving. Even if it wound up being in a body bag.

Someone — most likely Cyrus — had put my cousin in the dining room. A good choice. There was nothing in there for him to pocket. Yet, he was eyeing a fourteenth century painting along the back wall when I entered. I watched him nudge the corner to see if it would come off the wall. It wouldn’t. All the portraits in the house were bolted down to keep them from falling.

“Why are you here?” I said, my voice echoing through the space and making the other man jump.

He whirled to face me. Guilt a purple bruise on his face. The stench of a rotting horse corpse in the hot July sun smacked into me, making my eyes burn.

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