Page 11 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“And if she tries to use me, sir?”

“She knows the rules. I expect you can control yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pet isn’t an employee. She was sent by my wife who finds these sorts of people with ease. She knows my tastes, and even since her withdrawal from me, she does at least attempt to satisfy me. Having a kitten is simple enough. They’re low maintenance and ultra submissive. My favorites are the ones who thrive on being told no, but this one likes to test her limits. She rarely leaves the club. I doubt she’ll stick with our agreement, and I doubly doubt Aiden can resist her. She’s quite skilled, though. When I grow tired of her, I may offer her a job. If I consider our “relationship” an audition, she’s acing it.

However, my needs are changing. The building frustration inme begs an outlet kittens don’t sign up for. I’m not sure how many more gentle touches I can offer before the need to smack something overrides my better judgment.

Christian is emerging from the basement stairwell when I step off the elevator, both of us poised to enter the lobby at the same time.

“Good morning,” he says.

His bright blue eyes make a quick study of my face before he turns his head in the direction we’re walking. He looks like he slept about as well as I did. His blonde hair is already falling in his face, not as put together as usual. I refrain from asking about his night. I wouldn’t want him prying into mine either. He’s always made me somewhat self-conscious, and I find myself straightening my tie and running a hand over my hair. I even do a quick pat to make sure my fly is zipped.

“Were you able to take care of your shifts?” I ask.

“Yes. No problem. I got all the paperwork signed and sent back, too.”

“Perfect. I’m on my way to the office, so I’ll make sure neither of us missed anything. I assume you have a suit or two?”

He snorts a laugh. “I don’t know why you’d assume that. Other than what I wear here.”

I scowl. The cheap suits my doormen wear look nice enough to the less discerning eye, but those aren’t they types of people we’ll be dealing with in Rome.Especiallyin Rome. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to entertain my tailor during your lunch hour. I can have a few more appropriate ones made before we leave.”

“One is fine,” he says. “Since this is only a trial.”

“I’ll take it,” I tell him as he steps behind the desk. Greg, one of the night doormen, hands him the elevator keys. I don’t linger, itching to leave the building and get some fresh air into my lungs, some sun on my face. “His name is Tomas. I’ll see to it he’s here no later than noon.”

Christian nods, Greg gets the door for me, and I step outside. I relax almost instantly.

Not a hundred percent, but it’s easier to pretend my problems don’t exist when I put some distance between myself and Gramercy Place.

My office is on Wall Street, which is a bit of a commute, and I take the time in the car to review Christian’s paperwork. Nothing like a free trip to Italy to ensure someone dots every I. I grin at the fact that travel was the thing that sold him. He didn’t even ask about the salary, but I’ll have more than enough time to go over those details with him on the flight, if not sooner.

I’m not even through Midtown when Marianne texts.

Marianne

I hired an investigator and gave him our emails and cells, so we’ll see whatever he finds out as soon as he’s got something.

She’s not going to rethink this. It makes me wonder if her feelings for Avery extend beyond friendship. Not that it’s unlike my wife to go after a man she deems corrupt, but I’m struggling to see what’s in it for us at the end of the day. She probably would have told me if I hadn’t lost my temper over breakfast. Tomorrow, I’ll ask, if I decide I’m in the mood to hear it.

I allow my thoughts to drift to Italy for the rest of the ride. I go every four or five months to meet with investors and assess properties. My international business is focused mainly on hospitality—hotels. It’s the part of my company Marianne isn’t involved with. Her interest begins and ends in New York—mostly Manhattan, occasionally Brooklyn. I’m interested in some New Jersey properties, but she says I might as well put up a tacky billboard outside the Holland Tunnel if I want to degrade the business that way.

She wasn’t always like this. Age, wealth, society, and trauma have made her more cynical than the bubbly socialite I fell foronline my senior year of high school in Erie. We dated long distance for a year before I moved here to be with her. I worked as a waiter for several years before I was able to get into a good school and study finance. Meanwhile, she was getting her degree in political science.

I wanted to marry her from the beginning, but her parents wanted her to graduate first. They wouldn’t even allow her to live with me, which resulted in my introduction to all the housing issues in the city. Nothing is big enough or affordable enough, and there’s so much empty space, it borders on obscene. The city is an embarrassment of riches and bullshit red tape. I have a theory that if every square inch were usable, the cost of living would drop significantly, making the dreams of more kids from Erie achievable.

But I have a ways to go and a lot of greedy bastards to compete with.

Before I forget, I call my tailor Tomas and tell him to be at Gramercy at noon to get Christian out of all that polyester.

5

CHRISTIAN

On Wednesday morning, I’m surprised to find myself more nervous than excited. Not just because I’ve never flown across an ocean before, but because I’m going to be on a private jet with my boss for eight hours. Also, and I hate to say this for obvious reasons, but he looks good.

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