Page 105 of Syndicate of Sin Bundle

“I’m not going with Bethany,” I reassured her, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, who are you going with then?” she asked.

Double fuck. What do I say to her? That I don’t have friends who like art, so I’m going alone? Would that make me look like a complete and utter loser? Would she think I am asking her out on a date?

“Just …” I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m going by myself.”

Sage widened her eyes even more. “By yourself?”

“Yes, but it’s totally fine if you’re busy,” I said, my words coming out quickly as panic set in. I must’ve looked so stupid right now in front of her, asking if she wanted to go to an art museum with me because I didn’t want to go alone. “It’s nothing, Sage. Forget I—”

“I would love to go,” Sage said with a smile. “What time?”

This time, my eyes widened. “Wait, really? You want to go with me?”

“Of course,” she said, bouncing on her toes. “I’ve never been.”

Warmth exploded through my chest, and I desperately tried to hold back my grin. Someone actually wanted to go to the art museum with me. I had been wanting to go back for forever and didn’t think I’d get a chance until Constantino was free.

“Does ten in the morning sound good?”

“It’s a date!” Sage called.

“A date,” I whispered, grinning like an idiot as she stepped into the elevator. “It’s a date.”

16

sage

“If you get bored, we can leave,” Laila said, walking into the art gallery. Dressed in a black velvet body-con dress with a sweetheart neckline and Italian heels, Laila pulled off her tinted cat-eye sunglasses and stuffed them into her small Valentino Garavani clutch. She glanced over at me and offered me a half-smile. “I mean it.”

After nodding, I scurried next to her, dressed in a checkered skirt and black bodysuit that was way less expensive than any of her clothing. We walked into the first gallery of sculptures and statues from the twentieth and the twenty-first centuries.

“I love sculptures,” Laila hummed. “We have a couple at our main house.”

“Main house?” I asked.

“The family has a home about forty-five minutes outside the city,” she said, walking around the statue and staring at it in awe. When she looked up at me, her eyes were wide with excitement. “We’ll have to bring you there sometime.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. “I’d love that.”

“You will!” she squealed, clutching my hand. “We have an entire art collection.”

“Any of your paintings?” I mused.

She blushed and glanced over at me. “I already told you that I didn’t keep any.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t start again,” I said.

We walked toward the next sculpture.

“If I made anything again, I think I’d start with sculpting. I’ve only done it a couple of times. I’m quite terrible at it, but I love getting my fingers wet with clay and creating. I’m nowhere near good, but”—she giggled—“it’s fun.”

“You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it.”

“If it’s not good, then nobody will like it.”

“Who cares if people like it or not?” I said. “Especially if it’s what you love doing.”

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