Page 37 of Sinful Desires

I forced myself to focus on other things rather than staring at him in a way somebody was bound to notice. “I could use some more wine, too,” I announced, getting up from the floor and grabbing my glass. “Anybody else?”

On my way past, I touched Miles’s shoulder. “Would you like a refill?”

“Perhaps a sip more,” he allowed, standing. “As long as Barrett is feeling generous.”

“Go right ahead,” Barrett urged with a wave of his hand. “Enjoy it.”

We retreated to the corner, where I stepped behind the bar and reached into the refrigerator for the bottle of wine. Miles poured himself more of the fine scotch, turning away from me and staring out the window. Something had gotten to him. I was almost overwhelmed by the desire to know what could have upset him so much.

“Are you okay?” I murmured, glancing around the room as I did. Nobody seemed to notice the way he brooded, swirling scotch in his glass, making the ice cube clink against the sides.

When I touched his shoulder, he snapped out of it, his forehead creased in confusion when he looked at me. “This is their thirtieth anniversary,” he said.

“That’s right. I mean, they were out of the country on their trip, so we’re celebrating it now. But it’s pretty close.” Why did he look so confused? It wasn't like they didn’t have anniversaries over in England.

“And your parents…” He looked at them over my shoulder, and I did the same. Dad had his arm around Mom’s waist, and she was smiling, her forehead touching his shoulder while he chuckled over something. I had seen them that way so many times. The casual intimacy, the ease they had with each other.

“The first kiss was thirty years ago?” he muttered. “After the divorce?”

“Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?” I blurted out a disbelieving laugh. “They got together the weekend of the wedding. I mean, they first noticed each other that way. It’s sort of a nice story, right?”

“Sure.” He took a gulp from his glass, releasing a shuddering breath after swallowing.

It wasn’t the first time a fleeting thought had passed through my mind. What if he felt weird, wondering what life would have been like if he were Dad’s biological son? If Dad and Leila had stayed together. By the time my parents first got involved, Leila was already the past. Mom was the future. Their lives took two completely different paths.

The sudden dimming of the lights tore my attention from him. We both turned in time to see Colton and Sienna wheeling a cake in from the kitchen, candles glowing on top. “Happy anniversary to you…” Sienna began, and we all picked up the song as we gathered closer to the happy couple.

Except for Miles. He joined me, but he didn’t join in the singing. It seemed like he was looking through the cake, through all of us, somewhere else completely.

And it was unnerving how desperately I wanted to bring him back to me.

16

MILES

She was asleep, her light purple locks spread across the white pillowcase. I had never seen someone sleep as deeply as Aria. A bomb could have gone off, and it wouldn’t have disturbed her. Just for the hell of it, I moved around a bit, enough to jostle her. It didn’t so much affect the rhythm of her breathing.

She was on her stomach, one arm bent across the pillow, the sheets twisted around her naked body in an enticing way. Covering all the important bits but hinting at a variable playground of delights I’d already sampled after returning from the anniversary party. Valentina had headed to her apartment while Magnus and Evelyn had hung back to relive their glory days a little longer.

What a shame I couldn’t have joined her in sleep. There was something burning in me, a red-hot coal lodged in my chest. Two rounds of almost exhausting sex hadn’t been enough to douse it. Nothing would.

The timeline didn’t make sense.

No matter how I went over it in my mind, I couldn’t make it line up. Mom had always been adamant about Evelynstealing Magnus from her. Yet Magnus had referred to himself as newly single when reminiscing about their first kiss. Meaning, I assumed the divorce was in process or had already been finalized.

Someone had to be wrong somewhere. I didn’t want it to be me.

No, I couldn’t be. Fuck, Mom had driven the tale into my head more times than I cared to count. Some children were brought up reciting prayers at bedtime or reading fairy tales. I grew up with an ugly story of betrayal burned into my young consciousness.

“He couldn’t even dump me in private to leave me with a little dignity.”Mom’s vicious recounting was vivid, chillingly so.“He had to wait until his asshole friends were throwing an engagement party to stand on a chair and tell me to fuck myself in front of half of Manhattan that he was in love with Evelyn. I became a joke. Nobody took my side. I couldn’t show my face in public after that. I used every last penny I had to fly to England for a fresh start, along with my baby boy,”she would always conclude, and somehow her already vicious tone would become harder and colder.“I wish I had stayed behind. I could’ve looked that bastard in the eye when he refused to pay more than a pittance in the divorce settlement. I’m sure he tipped his housekeeper more than he gave me after destroying my reputation and making me a laughingstock in front of all those people.”

I rolled onto my back, the silk sheets cool beneath my overheated body. I was too hot inside, burning with indecision. Should I ask Magnus for his side of the story? It didn’t matter, and it wouldn’t change anything. Besides, it might tip him off if I appeared too interested in the past. He might realize I didn’t buy his version of history.

Was he as two-faced as I was always led to believe? I couldn’t make the image Mom drilled into my head match up with the loving family man I’d observed at the party earlier—adoring husband, doting father. Had time worked its charm on him?

Doubt had planted itself and was beginning to grow. All because of a story about a first kiss. It left me grinding my teeth against the impulse to bang down Magnus’s bedroom door and demand answers.

Who was I kidding? He wouldn’t tell the truth, only his version of it. Mom was no longer here to defend herself. He was bound to say anything so long as he came out looking like the hero, the way he always tried to do. Mr. Generous, an all-around good guy who had disgraced his wife in front of everyone she knew and mocked her with his new relationship. I couldn’t trust him. It would be foolish to let a few weeks of generosity undo decades of pain and struggle.

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