Page 40 of Unholy Bonds

No woman would have ever said no to him. It’d do him a world of good to hear a no occasionally.

Detective Rishi threw the man a disgruntled look before he walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Ryden Sinclair.

I had been waiting for a moment to be alone with him for weeks, and now that he was here, I wanted nothing but to punch him in his stupidly sexy mouth and make another scar.

“Forgive me for calling your report absurd.” He gave me a look that was hard to say no to. “It has been a long morning,” he said, his voice a soft apology. “I’m sure you’re very capable.”

“I’m more than just capable, Mr. Sinclair.”

His answering grin created a warm pulse of electricity along my nerves. I gulped and willed myself not to lose it right now. I had seen him smile—the fake one. But this was not fake. This was real, just as real as the one he gave Natalia Porter.

“Let me buy you a coffee as an apology?” he said again, his eyes imploring, but the wicked glint in them never went away. “For being such an asshole.”

“You were an asshole, but I’ll accept the apology. Buy that coffee tomorrow.”

“Really?” He looked discontented but didn’t say anything more. “When?” he asked, studying me.

“Four in the evening. Don’t be late,” I said, feeling like I had regained some sense of control back. It still wasn’t enough, guessing from the look in his eyes.

“Four?” he asked, rubbing his stubble, looking slightly irritated, and I knew I had shaken him just as he had shaken me.

“That’s when I’ll be free.”

I had been waiting for four o’clock since the moment I walked into the building the next day. I couldn’t do anything other than just sit and stare at the clock, and exactly at four, I heard a solid knock on my office door.

“Come in, Mr. Sinclair.”

I switched off my laptop and grabbed my coat.

“Here’s the deal. I’ll talk to you, but I can’t tell you every detail of the case,” I told Ryden, who was carefully studying my office.

He looked as intense as he did when he was cutting into a man’s skin.

Except for my cluttered desk, everything was so cold and clinical.

“If you’re done assessing my workplace, can we go, Mr. Sinclair?”

“Sure. Oh, allow me,” he offered, motioning to give him my coat. I handed it to him, and he fingered it, his touch soft and gentle. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, before they snapped open, and I almost stumbled back from the force of his gaze.

His gray eyes were now darker and more dangerous than ever before, painted with the color of his lust.

Gulping, I tried hard not to shudder when he pulled the coat over my shoulder, his fingers lazily trailing over my skin. His touch sent a shiver of excitement through me.

Pulling the hair at the back of my neck out of the coat, his fingers lingered on my skin for a second, and my heart went haywire. Pulse racing, I waited for him to do something, anything.

He cleared his throat. “So red,” he whispered. “So silky.” He teased the curls at the base of my neck.

“Wha-what?”

He quickly took his hand away from my heated skin as if he wasn’t entirely aware he did that. He cleared his throat, looking a bit flustered. He looked at me like… like I had two horns and a tail. I hadn’t expected him to rattle so easily.

“Shall we go?” he said in a hoarse voice laced with desire. When I nodded, he opened the door for me and waited like a perfect fucking gentleman, and I had a hard time believing that this was the same Ryden Sinclair who had killed a man in cold blood weeks ago.

“There’s the reliable cafeteria coffee, which is just black water. Or there’s a small café opposite the office. Coffee Connexion,” I said to him as I walked out of the room.

“Coffee Connexion, please. I’m not in the mood for black water,” he said with a grin.

We walked toward the café, which was almost empty, and took a seat at one of the rustic wooden tables covered with polka-dotted table covers.

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