Page 73 of Taken By Sin

I nod and follow him toward the front of the yacht. The wind picks up as we move, tugging at my dress and sending a thrill through me as the open sea stretches out before us.

“This is incredible,” I whisper, leaning against the railing as the yacht cuts through the waves.

Sin gives me a sideways glance. “Did he say anything rude?”

I shake my head. “No, it was actually a really good conversation.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sin says, his voice close to my ear.His arm slips around my waist, pulling me gently against him. For a moment, the tension of the day fades away, replaced by the sound of the sea and the warmth of his presence.

When I glance back, I catch a glimpse of his father watching us from the seating area, his expression softer.

I think I’ve finally won him over.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of change and quiet moments that feel anything but ordinary. After returning from Italy, I finally moved into Sin’s bedroom—a decision that feels both terrifying and inevitable. Nights are filled with whispered conversations and stolen kisses, his presence a constant, grounding force in my otherwise chaotic new life.

It’s been really romantic waking up beside him. All of the feral hardness of him seems to soften with my presence which makes me feel extremely special.

During the day, I throw myself into planning the masquerade ball with Bria.

When I’m not with her, I’m at Alice in Brewland, falling into the rhythm of work with Victoria. She’s patient and sharp-tongued in the best way, her humor cutting through my occasional moments of self-doubt. The steady hum of the coffee grinder, the hiss of steaming milk, and the quiet murmur ofcustomers feel like a sanctuary—a small piece of normalcy in a life that’s anything but.

As the masquerade ball draws closer, I can’t help but feel the tension building beneath the surface, a mix of excitement and dread that I can’t quite shake. For now, I focus on the small victories: making the perfect latte, choosing the right dress, and finding my place in this strange, chaotic world.

Now, we’re really digging in on the last phases of planning.

With Sin’s money, the decorator is doing pretty much everything. But Bria and I do get to do the fun stuff, like shopping.

I’m bringing along the mask she got me in Portofino, as I want my dress to match it.

The boutique is a dream of opulence, its tall windows letting in soft, natural light that illuminates racks of elegant gowns in every imaginable shade.

Mirrors line the walls, making the space feel endless, and the faint scent of fresh flowers lingers in the air. Bria’s already rifling through a rack of dresses with the enthusiasm of someone who thrives in the world of fashion.

For the next hour, Bria pulls out one gown after another, encouraging me to try on bold colors and intricate designs I’d never have chosen on my own. She even tries on a few herself, her bubbly energy contagious. The shop attendant brings out a selection of masks: delicate creations adorned with feathers, sequins, and lace, but I have mine already.

“You have to try this one,” she says, holding up a shimmering emerald gown. Its flowing fabric catches the light,sending tiny sparkles across the room. “With your complexion, it’ll be stunning.”

I laugh nervously, brushing my fingers against the dress. “I don’t know if I can pull something like that off.”

Bria rolls her eyes dramatically. “Magnolia, please. You’re gorgeous. Trust me, you’re going to own this masquerade.”

The word still feels foreign to me.Masquerade.The whole idea of hosting one is surreal.

Bria thrusts the gown into my arms. “Go. Try it. And don’t argue.”

I step into the plush fitting room, slipping into the dress with care. The fabric feels impossibly smooth against my skin, the bodice hugging my frame before cascading into a flowing skirt that brushes the floor. When I step out, Bria gasps, clapping her hands together.

“Oh my God. Yes. Is that the one?” she asks, circling me like an artist admiring their masterpiece. “You look like a queen.”

I glance at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back. The dress brings out the warm tones in my skin, and for the first time in a long while, I feel like I could belong in Sin’s world: a world of grandeur and elegance.

“You really don’t think it’s too much?” I ask, smoothing the fabric nervously.

“Too much? Magnolia, this is a masquerade ball, not a coffee date. Go big or go home,” Bria says with a grin. “If you love it, then that’s the one.”

“I think so.” I grin, handing her my mask.

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