Page 133 of The Sinner: James

Breathlessly, I wait for him to look at me, so I can read his face.

He turns to me, and I see it in his eyes.

Something is painfully different about him.

His shirt is undone at the neckline, and he has dark circles under his eyes.

He looks like he didn’t sleep at home last night.

Dark, dirty lust lingers in his hooded eyes, permeating his moves––how he walks.

The gaze he gives me is no longer trustful.

At once, I spin around and dash to my car.

“Rain?” he barks, rushing to catch me.

I sprint away.

He runs after me and grabs me just as I’m about to enter my car.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, pissed.

Oh, my God.

I can’t believe him.

He’s angry with me?

“Get your hands off me,” I growl, sinking my fists into his chest. “It doesn’t matter why I’m here. I’m leaving now.”

He shuts the door and blocks my access to my car before grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him.

The sunset rolls over his shoulders, the golden circle of light peering at us from behind a concrete column.

Pain floods my heart as I take in his face, his features still mesmerizing despite the fury seething in his eyes.

“What happened, James? I called you last night and then today… The entire day. What the fuck is this?”

“I was busy,” he says.

Bile crawls up my throat as I realize he’s lying.

“Busy doing what?”

“Business,” he says, his eyes giving me nothing. It’s like I’m talking to a stranger. “Are you going to tell me what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not before you tell me who the hell was the blonde who stepped out of your car.”

“She’s my lawyer.”

“You must be shitting me,” I say, choking with anger.

“I’m not.”

“Are you two...?

His eyes narrow at me, dark, unwilling to give me the slightest shred of hope or truth.

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