Page 49 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“Zero times.”

“You gonna stick around, then?” he asks. “Help me out?”

“Thought you said you didn’t want to talk.”

“We can talk about the job.”

“It’s kinda related, don’t you think?”

“You’re what?” he asks. “Twenty-nine? Thirty?”

“I just turned thirty.”

“Then you should be more than capable of separating your personal and professional life.”

“You’re assuming I’m a mature thirty,” I say. “Let me assure you, I am not.”

Gibson’s smirk blooms into a full grin. “I think you can manage it. If you need any tips, hit me up. I compartmentalize like a fucking boss.”

Trying not to laugh when he’s sleepy, cocky, and hot as hell is futile. I’m like a school kid with a crush, wanting to flirt, but also knowing it’s not my strong suit—at least not without some alcohol on board.

He checks his watch and the flight path.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Greenland,” he says. “Almost home.”

The first thingI do when I get back to my basement apartment is shower. Though I’m starving, I’m meeting up with my friends for dinner so they can hear all about my trip.

I’m still trying to process everything that’s happened. Friends don’t really serve a purpose if you can’t be honest with them and get their feedback on any possible mistakes you’re making, and I’ve never been shy about sharing my escapades before, but something about being restrained and flogged in such a humiliating fashion doesn’t sound like the kind of thing I can discuss over dinner.

I met Jericho years ago when I was briefly dating an editorialassistant who worked at the same publisher Jericho does. While a relationship between me and Heather failed to materialize, Jericho hit it off with my former roommate Drew, and since he and I were close, she and I got to be good friends.

While the two of them are no longer a couple, they remain on good terms, which is surprising because he totally cheated on her. Granted, their relationship was going nowhere, and he wasn’t exactly at his peak mental health at the time, but I’m always impressed when two exes are able to make it work. He’ll be at dinner tonight, too.

He might actually be a good person to talk to about Gibson—if I can manage to tear him away from his husband for ten minutes.

Once I’m clean, my bed is screaming for me to climb into it. It’d be two in the morning if I were still in Rome, but I pound back an energy drink, determined to power through and get back on my usual schedule.

I take the subway to SoHo and walk four blocks to the Mediterranean restaurant where everyone is already having drinks and shouting across the table at each other.

Jericho sees me first and springs up to give me a hug. She smells like magnolias, and the cloud of her soft, natural frizz tickles my nose. Pulling away to look at me, she gives me that blindingly white smile that takes up half of her face. With skin the color of dark honey and light hazel eyes, her mixed racial background makes her uniquely beautiful.

As in—this is not the kind of woman you cheat on. But the cheater himself is the next to greet me, and I can’t help but give him a hug, too, because Drew has also never looked better. Or happier. His new husband Olivier gives me his usual tight smile and a reluctant handshake, but I’m greeted warmly by everyone else. Elodie and her girlfriend Mallory—both tenants in the building where Drew once worked as a doorman—and Jericho’snew man, Joe. Come to think of it—Joe was Jericho’s assistant before they started dating. Not that I want to date Gibson—but he might have some insight into whether you can fuck around with your boss and still maintain a healthy professional boundary.

“Where’s Jeremy?” I ask. This group of friends almost always meets up together. They’re tight like that.

“He and Larry were in the Hamptons all weekend. They said they’d stop in later if they were up to it,” Jericho tells me. “Apparently, traffic was a nightmare.”

I squeeze in between her and Drew. The waiter arrives promptly and takes my drink order. Elodie lets me know appetizers are on the way. My mouth is already watering.

“So how was Rome with the boss?” Drew asks. He used to work for Gibson, too.

“Educational,” I say, because I settled on that word on the train ride.

“Where’d you stay?” Joe asks.

His bright green eyes grab me a moment because they’re such a stark contrast with his olive coloring and his longish dark hair. He looks like he fronts a band instead of hustling new clients as a freshly minted literary agent. Although—with looks like that, I imagine if he takes meetings with editors over lunch, he’s not going to have any problems making book sales.

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