Page 27 of Sweet Sinners
I narrow my eyes, cautious. "Oh?"
"I’ve been waiting for someone like you," he says quietly. "Someone who doesn’t just accept things as they’ve always been. You see thecracks, the weaknesses. You see what this company could become under the right leader."
Something in his voice sends a flicker of wariness through me. It feels calculated, like he’s been watching for precisely this moment. Trust isn’t something I give freely, not in this place, not with these people, but he’s offering something useful, and I'd be stupid not to listen.
He steps closer, lowering his voice. "I know this company, Ms. Stavros. Inside and out. The politics, the alliances, the people who’ll stab you in the back before you even sense it coming. I can help you. I can be your eyes and ears—you just have to trust me."
The offer hangs heavy between us, rich with possibilities.
Then, he smirks, a hint of amusement breaking through. "And we can discuss it right here… or over dinner."
I arch a brow, skepticism coloring my voice. "Dinner? That’s bold."
He shrugs easily. "If we're seen together outside of work, they'll assume it's personal. They won't question the real reason we're talking."
"So you’re suggesting we give them gossip to distract from our real intentions?"
He nods slightly. "Being CEO means embracing risk." His tone stays even, carefully unreadable. "I can lay all my cards out here, in front of prying eyes, or we can have a professional meal. Call it a working dinner, if it makes you feel better."
I tilt my head, considering him carefully. "And what exactly do you get out of this?"
The smirk widens, slow and knowing. "Don’t fire me."
I blink, taken aback by his bluntness. "I'm not—I wasn't planning—" My brow furrows slightly. Is that seriously what everyone thinks I’m here to do?
"You need someone on the inside," he continues smoothly, pressing the advantage. "Someone who knows how the board really works, who's been here long enough to know exactly where the bodies are buried, figuratively speaking, of course." The barest hint of humor softens his words. "Today, I made the right choice backing you. Let me prove it again."
I exhale slowly, weighing his words.
Chapter fourteen
Connor
I’mpacingagain,restless,glancing at my phone every few minutes like it’ll somehow hurry Cali through the damn door.
She’s been CEO for weeks now, and each night she walks in looking more worn than the last. On good days, I get a tired smile—one that never quite reaches those eyes. On bad days, she slips past me like a ghost, quiet, withdrawn, the space between us growing colder by the day.
She’s closing herself off again. All the ground we'd gained—those quiet evenings cooking side by side, the cautious banter, the fragile, tentative trust we’d begun to build—has vanished, leaving behind nothing but a silence thick enough to suffocate. She’s pulling away, and I have no idea why.
I feel that familiar tension clawing at my chest—the one I used to feel before a fight, raw and restless.
A few old prison contacts have been messaging lately, slipping coded hints into my inbox, just enough to remind me that the underground matches are still running. They’re dangling the temptation right under my nose—a chance for quick cash, the familiar taste of blood and adrenaline, the relief of fists connecting against flesh. Part of me still craves that rush, that simplicity. It used to quiet my head, numb the ache inside. But turning violence into business always landed me in more trouble than I could handle.
I shove down the urge, forcing my hands to stay busy. Hours slip by in the greenhouse, burying myself in the dirt and the quiet, until my muscles ache. I’ve even begun clearing out one of the spare rooms, turning it into a makeshift gym—another distraction, another way to exhaust the restlessness in my bones. Hell, I’ve even tried talking to the staff lately, though they still watch me warily, like they’re waiting for me to snap.
They see me exactly the way everyone else does: dangerous, volatile, a loaded gun with the safety off.
Everyone but Cali.
Despite the caution that lingered in her eyes, she’d started to give me a chance. She saw me, unfiltered and raw, and even if it scared her, she didn’t shy away. For the first time in forever, I’d started to trust someone—and she was beginning to trust me, too.
But now, she’s slipping away again, pulling back behind her walls, and I have no idea how to stop it.
My chest tightens, frustration pooling hot beneath my ribs, when the front door suddenly bangs open.
Then—
A scream.
