Page 214 of The Sinner: James

We go out to lunch with my business partners and their wives.

Well-mannered and articulate, Rain engages in effortless conversations, smiling charmingly and offering her balanced opinions of current issues.

Everybody loves her, although something doesn’t quite fit the people’s common perception of women like her.

She looks like a trophy wife, yet she has more depth than that. And she’s smooth, poised, and has the erudition of a more mature person, despite her age.

She delivers above and beyond, and my entourage fully buys into the idea that she is one hundred percent mine, everything she does and says solidifying that concept.

She showers me with her affection and attention, drinking me in with adoring eyes and swooning over me.

I almost believe her.

I can barely tell what is business and what is pleasure when it comes to her. Or if there is a line between the two of them.

I guess I’m a little tempted to fool myself into thinking that what she does for me is real.

One thing is for sure. The more time I spend with her, the more blurred that line becomes.

And yet, she’s never let her guard down. Not even once.

* * *

JAMES

“Black or white?”she asks, holding the two hangers up, one evening gown in each hand.

My eyes fall on her body.

Her breasts spill out of her bra, the corset-style garter belt highlighting her small waist. A lace triangle covers her pussy, her heels making her toned legs look even longer.

I’m hard.

“James?”

“Huh?”

“The gowns.”

“Yes. The gowns,” I murmur, struggling to regain my focus.

I weigh the two options while buttoning up my shirt.

Pinching the ends of a starched cuff together, I align the holes before inserting and securing my cufflinks.

“Black,” I say, swinging my eyes back to the mirror.

She drapes both evening gowns over her arm, her stare burning the back of my head.

“What?” I ask, glancing at her in the mirror.

She throws a seductive look at me, a smile tugging at her lips as she lets the dresses fall to a nearby chair and walks to me.

She pivots in front of me.

Running her hand over my neckline, she fixes my bowtie.

A moment later, she lets her fingers slide through my hair and sweeps a few strands back.

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