Page 21 of Taken By Sin

When I don’t respond, he runs up beside me. No, not him. A young guy, wearing all black street clothes. I take a look back at Sin, and he’s tilting his head, grinning. “Have fun!” He shouts as I march out of the back gate and onto the sidewalk.

“I’m Maxwell, but everyone calls me Max.” The man extends his hand, and while I’m mad at Sin, that’s no reason to be rude. I return his handshake and smile at him.

“Magnolia.”

He nods. “I know,” he slips into step beside me as we walk down the city streets. “Magnolia Finley, age eighteen. Raised by nuns at Saint Mary’s Orphanage. Parents deceased, one living distant cousin in California, Margo Finley, aged fifty-two. No siblings.”

I find it amusing yet somewhat sorrowful that Magnolia Finley can be summed up in so few words. It’s just that, nothing more. When I sifted through my orphanage documents, I was too distraught to notice the name of my only living relative. My parents are gone, and it’s likely she doesn’t even know I exist.

Maybe searching for her will help me understand why my parents went down the road they did. “Why and how do you know all this?"

“I,”—he does a little bow—“am your personal detail. A knight in shining armor, if you will.”

A laugh escapes me, and just like that, my anger towards Sin is floating away the farther I get from that ridiculously infuriating handsome man and his stupid brick house.

“Where are we going?” Max asks, his emerald eyes shining in the sunlight.

“Nowhere,” I say with a disinterested shrug.

He nods. “Sounds good to me.”

I turn to cross the road and am halted by Max’s arm. He looks carefully down both sides of the street before allowing me to go. “Tell me your story.” I wave my hand in a circle. “Like you told me mine.”

He smiles, displaying a crooked grin with dimples. There's a boyish charm about him that Sin could never hope to convey.

You could tell he lost that side of him long ago.

“Not much to tell.” He shrugs. “Born and raised in Queens, my parents are...” He swipes his finger across his neck, and I nod in understanding.

“So, Sin is your boss, correct?” I ask.

He nods in affirmation. “Yes.”

I think of therapy. An older woman with crinkles around her green eyes used to come in once a year to evaluate our mental well-being. She always said that whatever I told her was confidential.

There was never anything to tell of course, as I was living a secluded life with a bunch of women who wanted to keep us busy with housework. Nothing too scandalous there.

“Will you tell him things I say?” I press.

“No.”

I want to believe him because I really need to vent. “Seriously, I need to know.”

“Unless you’re in danger, Sin doesn’t have anything to know.” He shrugs.

I allow him to take my arm as we cross yet another street, getting used to not needing any situational awareness. “He's incredibly frustrating!”

Once we’re safely on the other side, Max throws his head back and lets out a deep, throaty laugh. “He is a bit much, isn’t he?”

“Yes!” I smile. “How did you meet him?”

Max tilts his head. “I was on a job.” He pauses.

“What job?”

He throws his hands up as we pass a coffee shop. “We’re stopping here.”

Max's narrowed eyes scan the room as he guides me through to the counter.

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