Page 31 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“Really?” He’s giving me a pass forthat?

“It’s been a long, weird day. Our wires got crossed. It’s fine. I still feel good about being here. Are you okay?”

His words go a long way to assuaging my guilt. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“We’ll reset in the morning,” he says.

I nod, liking the sound of that, too.

We stand together, and he glances up at me, his eyes narrowed. “I had a nice day. Thank you.”

That eyeliner. God, he’s sexy. “You’re welcome.”

With that, he walks to the kitchen, scrounges up something, and disappears into his room. The door clicks shut behind him. I sink back down on the couch, my legs jelly, and my dick still throbbing.

Running a hand down my face and back up through my hair, I sigh heavily, still tasting him on my tongue and craving the adrenaline rush that left my body wired and exhausted.

Thatcan’t happen again.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. It’s buzzed a few times in the last hour, and I need the distraction. Running the heel of my hand down my still firm dick, I unlock the screen. Marianne has left messages.

Perfect.

One of them contains a photograph—a close-up shot of a young man around Christian’s age in what appears to be a zoomed in shot from across a city street. He’s handsome with dark hair, perfectly tailored scruff, and sad brown eyes. I’ve never seen him before, and I can’t put together why she’d send me a photograph of a stranger. Scrolling down to the message she left, I get it, and I don’t like it.

Marianne

His name is Silas Manning. He’s been living with Graham for almost two years in the apartment Avery found out about. He’s a doorman in Graham and Avery’s building. Can you fucking believe it? I don’t know how I’m going to break this to her.

Then don’tis what I want to tell her, but Marianne thrives on other people’s drama and won’t hesitate to stir the pot.

At least I’m not the only person on the Upper East Side who can’t resist a beautiful doorman. Obviously Christian is more than that to me, but it seems this one isfarmore to the senator. I admit, I’m shocked. Like Marianne, I was expecting an affair with a woman. Some young, gold-digging home-wrecker.

Scrolling back to the photograph, I study the man’s face for any signs that he’s got bad intentions, but he looks miserable. Certainly not smug or confident or even sneaky. What the fuck does Marianne have planned for him? I hope nothing—that her sights are set on Lawther alone. But messing with a U.S. senator is dangerous business. The thought of it backfiring on me has me cold and anxious.

Marianne must have noticed I saw her text because another pops up.

Marianne

Too bad for him it’s an election year.

My already nervous stomach does a somersault.

Let’s discuss when I get home. I can’t have you going rogue on a government official.

You don’t trust me? ;)

If you want my help, it’s best we get on the same page.

Sigh. Agreed. How’s Rome?

I think of Christian’s swollen lips. The tears he shed on the terrace. His breath on my neck in the stairwell.

Always beautiful this time of year.

I hope you’ll try to have some fun while you’re there.

She says this because she wants me to fuck someone. Or dominate someone. “Fun” in Marianne’s mind is knowing I’m getting laid so she doesn’t have to feel any guilt about how oftenshehas sex.

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