Page 542 of The Sinner: James

It was that awkward moment when I pressed myself against his almost naked body, thinking I was hugging James.

And then I spent a few more moments with him before he left Monaco.

He has a mind of his own. He is also careless and ruthless, the way James used to be.

He doesn’t care much about anything other than himself.

In my experience, these people pull through all the time.

Even if he got snatched by bad people, he’d still leave a trail of clues to lead the police to him.

He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“He seems like a strong man,” I say when all I want to say is ‘stubborn.’

Stubborn, ruthless, and creative.

That’s a winning combination when you need to stay alive.

I’m sure he has something to do with his disappearance, but I can’t tell that to his mother.

“And smart,” I add.

“Oh. You’re very kind,” she says, slipping her phone into her purse. “He is all that. But he is very young.”

I remember being about his age when I started living on my own in New York—doing what I was doing. The funny thing was I never thought about myself as being young and clueless.

I went on about my life, showing more courage than older people, perhaps, simply because I didn’t know much.

That’s why I pursued stuff that not many people had pursued.

I’m sure James’ brother is like that too.

She pushes out of her chair.

“I have to leave now,” she says. “I wish we could’ve met in different circumstances,” she adds as I rise. “Perhaps one day we’ll get the chance to sit around the table at my home in Lisbon and talk about this over a cup of coffee and a slice of cake,” she says, smoothing the lapels of her blouse. “Please tell James I had to leave.”

“I will.”

With that, she exits the suite.

19

JAMES

“Oh... Who is this?”the man sitting to my left murmurs, dragging his gaze across the restaurant.

The rest of the guests, men, and women, are engaged in a lively conversation while I, for some reason, follow the direction of my neighbor's gaze.

Next to the entrance, a blonde woman talks to the hostess–– she has her back turned to us and wears a white dress and a beautiful piece of jewelry around her wrist.

She looks like Rain, but she can’t be Rain, so I move my gaze back to my guests while keeping an eye on the man sitting next to me.

He does a double-take that almost makes me swivel my head back to that woman.

I pick up my drink instead and take a swig.

His eyes brighten with a smile that renders me even more curious.

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