Page 60 of A Sinner's Truth

“Someone grabbed on to Aria when we were walking through the club. I want to know who it was,” I explain.

“Did you ask her?” Marcel raises a brow at me.

“She was drunk.” I smile at the memory. Aria was possessive, jealous, and fucking hot as shit when she tried to publicly stake her claim on me. Not that she needs to. I’m fucking loyal. If I tell someone I’m theirs, then I’m sure as shit not going to let anyone else have me.

My mind drifts to Shelli. I’ve thought about her less and less over the last few weeks. I think I owe that to Aria and her body giving me a distraction I need right now. Whenever I let my mind drift to Shelli, pure rage fills my veins. I never thought it’d be possible to hate someone I spent years loving.

The worst part is there are still times when I’m with Aria that the guilt starts creeping in. The fact that I allow myself to be happy with her has me twisted the fuck up. Aria tells me that I should focus on remembering the good years I had with Shelli, and not how things ended. But I can’t think of Shelli and not feel the betrayal. The lies.

I knew something was off and I put it down to fucking wedding stress. She made a damn fool out of me. Not just then but the last year and a half I’ve been struggling to keep my damn sanity, all because I was mourning a lie.

“Okay, let’s see what fucker just got an entrance ticket to the warehouse,” Marcel says while cracking his laptop open.

“I’m making coffee,” I tell him. His fingers are going crazy on the keyboard. A heap of code shows up on his screen.

By the time I get my coffee and walk back in, Marcel has the camera feed from the club up on his computer screen. I tell him what time and where to check. Sure enough, some fucker did grab Aria.

I watch as he leans in and says something to her, and then he vanishes into the crowd. “Who the fuck is that?” I hiss. “Can you get a better look at his face?”

“This is the only view we have from this camera. Give me a minute,” Marcel says. “I can track his movement through the club. Get a face shot.”

Not even sixty seconds later, my brother has the fucker’s profile up on the screen. “Oliver fucking Densper,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “I should have known the arsehole wouldn’t let her go that easily.”

“This is the fucker her father wanted to marry her off to,” Marcel says. “We never did find out what her old man was getting out of that deal, did we?”

“No, we didn’t. He hasn’t contacted her, hasn’t done shit about it, so I let it go.” That was obviously a mistake.

“What do you want to do about him?” Marcel nods his head towards the screen.

“I want to know what he said to her,” I tell him. “And I want to know why the fuck she lied to me last night.”

Anger surges through me. She fucking lied to me. I asked her what happened last night, and she blew it off, knowing full well some fucker had his hands on her.

Aria’s still out of it when I walk back into the bedroom and close the door. She looks angelic, her hair fanning out over the pillow. I want to crawl back into bed with her and hold her close. I want to keep her shielded from the world so no one else can touch her.

I climb onto the bed and straddle her body, trapping her between the mattress and me. “Aria, wake up.” I kiss my way down her neck. My hand trails over her chest before cupping her naked breast.

“Mmm…” Aria moans and arches her back off the bed as much as she can with me on top of her.

“Wake up,” I whisper into her ear again. My cock is hard. I need to be inside her. But first, I need to find out what that little shit said to her last night and why the fuck she lied to me about it.

“Santo?” Her eyes blink open. “What time is it?”

“Time for us to have a chat.” My hand massages the flesh of her breast; then I pinch her nipple between my fingers.

“Chat?” she asks.

“You lied to me, Aria. I don’t like being lied to. Especially by you,” I tell her, twisting her nipple a little harder than I should.

“I didn’t lie.” She frowns at me.

“I asked you who grabbed you last night. You lied and told me you didn’t know. But you did know, didn’t you?” I could tell her I already know who it was, but I’m giving her an opportunity to come clean.

“I didn’t want you to do something that would get you into trouble,” she says. “It was Oliver. He’s just being his usual arsehole self.”

“He touched what’s mine. You should have told me.”

“Why? So you could start a fight in a nightclub and get into trouble?” She squirms underneath me, trying to get out of my grip.

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