Page 46 of A Taste like Sin
deep condition and a brush.
No wonder Damien changed his mind so suddenly on indulging my impulsive request. As I look now,
few men would desire me.
Once I strip my coat, my beautiful dress enhances my appearance, but only by a little. I’m a dull, plain
shadow overall. The kind of woman who may be whispered about and hounded but only because she
makes for such an easy target.
A haunted, hollow doll.
My fingers shake as I reach around to my back, searching for the zipper of the dress. When it’s
loosened, the fabric easily falls, revealing more pale, unremarkable skin.
In a horrible way, I’m relieved Damien is blind. He can’t see the gaunt, rail-thin body I do. Or the
scars on my thigh. Or the fear in my eyes.
Yet he somehow sees beyond it all, peering beneath the flesh to the parts of me I can’t disguise. Now,
I think I know exactly why he changed his mind; this is a test, designed for me more so than him.
Can I truly trust him despite all the people who may be watching? Whispering? Judging?
Am I that fragile doll Heyworth coddled or an opponent worthy of playing the monster’s game?
The answer terrifies me as I step out of my shoes and approach the closed door, knocking once.
I don’t know.
But I want to find out.
DAPHNE STAYS TRUE TO HER PROMISE. AT MY KNOCKING, SHE OPENS THE DOOR, A SLENDER STRIP OF
black silk dangling from her opposite hand. Without a word, I turn, allowing her to secure the
blindfold over my eyes. It’s soft against my skin but impenetrable—a sheet of endless dark.
“There is one more thing Mr. Villa insisted upon,” she murmurs.
I jump as a cold, hard surface brushes my ear and settles against the lobe. Solid. Slightly heavy. My
thoughts spin, desperately trying to put a name to the object.
“This way,” Daphne says without giving an explanation herself.
Taking my hand, she leads me forward and I can almost feel the atmosphere shift from the stale, close
air of the hall to the wider, echoing theater. My first thought is to assume it’s empty—Damien Villa
wouldn’t dare share his new doll with the world.
He’s merely toying with me.
But faint murmurs and whispers nibble at my ears to spite my pathetic assumption. People—more than
