Page 10 of A Taste like Sin
or I will see to it.”
I hold my breath as I glance over his shoulder into the first of the rooms: a beige décor sets it apart
from his typical color scheme.
“Let me guess: You told your designer to have free rein in this section of the penthouse?” I snipe.
“Oh, no.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Far from it. I told her to design a room that Juliana Thorne
would be mildly comfortable dwelling within.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Neither can I muster up the energy to ask. Instead, I step into the room,
spotting all the little details that would prove his remarks twistedly true. The décor, disregarding the
beige, mimics that of my suite at the Lariat: simple though luxurious furniture and an open floor plan.
On its face, it’s the style someone would assume the heiress daughter of a powerful judge might be
used to.
“Impressive,” I admit, aware of him advancing on me with slow, precise steps. “Though the color
scheme is a bit more muted than I would expect.”
“Oh?” His chuckle tickles the back of my neck, lingering even as his steps retreat toward the hall. “I
hope you find the bedroom equally as…comforting. I’m afraid you may describe it as far too
conservative for a woman of your talents. Alas, it should suffice. Goodnight, Ms. Thorne.”
Wary, I continue through the suite as his steps fade, inching toward the room I assume the bedroom in
question to be.
For a second, I forget that Damien isn’t in earshot as I mutter, “Very funny. You think you know me so
well.”
Maybe he does considering he supposedly designed a room damn near tailored to make me feel
entirely out of my element. Conservative my ass. The walls are red, the floors a plush, sensual black.
A luxurious bed draped in red satin sheets serves as the most intimidating focal point.
And on the ceiling is an enormous gilded mirror. Because of course there is.
So the blind man has jokes. Very funny. I laugh to prove I’m unaffected as I shed my jacket and brace
myself over the edge of the mattress. But without him here…
I don’t have a barrier from the guilt. Not the pain or the crushing realization that the past twenty years
of my life have been one monstrous lie. Only one person holds the answers.
Why, why, why?
As I fish my cell phone from my purse, I’m determined to discover that very fact once and for all.
