Page 91 of Sweet Sinners
"There are things," he begins quietly, his voice hesitant, cautious, "about my time in prison I haven't told you—or anyone. Things I haven't figured out how to say."
I hold my breath, my heart suddenly heavy, nerves tightening my stomach. I don't speak, letting him gather his courage, letting him find words he’s clearly desperate to release. Finally, he looks up, emerald eyes meeting mine, vulnerable in a way that twists my chest painfully.
"I don't want the person I became in there to scare you away," he murmurs softly, and something inside me breaks.
I close the distance between us, sliding my arms around him, fingers tracing slowly under his shirt, carefully along the scars lining his back. "Connor," I whisper, fiercely holding his gaze, "there’s nothing about you that could scare me away. Not anymore."
His expression softens, and he tilts my chin gently, pressing his lips against mine—slow, deep, tender—letting the rest of his secrets stay unspoken for now. That's okay. I'll wait until he's ready to let them spill out, and then I'll kiss away every single one.
Someday soon, reality will come crashing through these carefully built walls.
But until then, I’m holding onto Connor. Onto this dangerous, reckless happiness.
Even if it breaks me later.
Chapter forty-two
Cali
Istarenumblyatthescreen, my vision blurring until the words become meaningless shapes. It feels impossible, unreal. My pulse pounds in my ears, panic clawing at my throat.
"But...it doesn't make sense. That’s not enough reason to kill someone," I whisper, teeth sinking nervously into my bottom lip. I shake my head slowly, as if denial alone could erase what I’ve seen.
"Cali," Connor says gently, his voice firm yet cautious, trying to anchor me to reality.
"I mean, yeah," I mutter to myself, ignoring him, "my dad could've been a better husband, made better choices—hell, been a better man. But having an affair doesn’t justify murder. She was one of myclosest friends, Connor. She wouldn’t..." My voice trails off, refusing to finish a thought that would shatter everything I believed.
I keep insisting, desperately clinging to denial. Yes, Anna knew Dad’s schedule inside out, knew every detail, every secret meeting, every quiet evening alone. But even if she was hurt, angry—hell, furious—could she really cross that line? Was revenge worth destroying me, too?
The realization hits me like ice water. Maybe she didn't care who she destroyed anymore, as long as she took him down with her.
Connor’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts again, sharper this time. "Cali, look at me. Just—look away from the damn screen for a minute."
His hand gently cups my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his, steadying me against the fear tightening my chest, my breath shaky, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"Connor," I whisper, voice strained. "She threatened me. She warned me I wouldn’t like what happened if I fired her. She compared me to my dad, said I was just as bad, even accused us of sleeping together. And we are...what if she outs us? What if she hurts someone else? What if she comes after you?"
Before I can spiral deeper, Connor moves swiftly, lifting me effortlessly onto his lap, his arms a comforting cage around me. His touch steadies my racing heart, bringing me back down, grounding me in reality. "We have security," he says calmly, firmly, his voice a soothing anchor against my panic. "Cameras cover every inch of this house."
"But we haven't checked!" I blurt, anxiety bleeding into my voice. "What if she's been watching us all week? She has no job, no reason to hold back—what if she’s desperate enough to do something crazy?"
Without missing a beat, Connor pulls out his phone, fingers flying as he pulls up the security feed. His free hand gently strokes my spine,keeping me close, protected. "We’re going to figure this out," he murmurs, voice unwavering. "Right now."
He tightens his hold, pressing a reassuring kiss to my temple as he begins meticulously scrolling through footage from the past week, determined not to miss a single detail.
I stare at the screen, breath caught painfully in my throat, waiting—needing—to see her there. But the footage just shows me coming home, the groundskeepers tending to the garden, people doing their jobs.
Nothing else.
No Anna.
No threat—at least, not yet.
"Check Monday," I whisper, my voice tight with dread.
Connor pauses, thumb hovering over the screen. His eyes flicker to mine, cautious but intense, like he's bracing himself for my breaking point. "Cali," he murmurs, voice low, a gentle warning.
"Do it," I insist, jaw clenched, ignoring the way my pulse thunders violently in my chest. "We had sex in the kitchen, Connor. And Anna loves playing voyeur."
