Page 61 of Sweetest Sin
Brielle scoffs.
“If Mom had been stronger, if she had tried to escape Andrey and left this life behind, would you have gone with her?” I ask her.
“Of course,” she says without hesitation. “But what does that have to do with?—”
“Peyton heard me kill someone,” I say, keeping my voice down. “It scared the hell out of her, and she ran. She kept Damien from me to protect him because she’s a good mom.”
Brielle swallows thickly. “But you’re not him,” she chokes out. “You’re a good man.”
“Because your standards are fucked,” I say with a humorless laugh. “But to Peyton, I might as well be the Devil himself. She’s not from this world. That’s why I let her go all those years ago.”
“And now?” Brielle asks, quirking her perfectly shaped brow.
“And now, I’m never letting either of them go again.”
21
Peyton
I shouldn’t be enjoyingmyself. I shouldn’t be sitting in the pool—wearing a bikini that fits damn near perfectly, thanks to Dominick—while my son splashes around atop the ridiculously huge pizza floatie, but I am.
It’s beautiful outside. The sun is shining down on us with just enough cloud coverage to make it so that it’s not too hot. But that’s the good part about living in Florida. You can hang by the pool pretty much year-round.
Martha made us the most delicious, thirst-quenching lemonade and brought out an array of finger foods that Damien and I both love. And for the first time in forever, I have nothing to do but spend time with my son.
When I think too hard, a mini me appears, wagging her judgmental finger and telling me that I should be fighting back, demanding to leave. Giving Dominick hell.
But I’ve accepted that I don’t have a choice in being here. The man is a force to be reckoned with, so rather than waste my energy being pissed at a situation that’s out of my control, I’mchoosing to make the most of it. And right now, that includes sitting on the steps of the cleanest, bluest pool I’ve ever seen.
“Mommy, look!” Damien yells, standing on top of the float and lifting his arms. “I’m a fishy!”
He dives off, screaming like the crazy little boy he is, at the same time Dominick steps outside. I glance up at Dominick just in time to see his eyes widen in shock. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he’s running toward the pool and jumping in.
Damien pops through the surface of the water and shakes his shaggy, overgrown red hair—which I’ve refused to get cut because I’m not ready to accept my little boy is growing up—just as Dominick reaches him. He grabs Damien by the waist, lifting him out of the water, and out of shock, Damien screams, unsure who’s got him.
“What are you doing?” I ask, confused as to what just happened in the last fifteen seconds.
“Saving our son from drowning!” he barks, stalking toward me with Damien in his arms.
His hair is soaking wet, and droplets of water drip down the sides of his face. As he walks up the steps, I can’t help but notice the way his white dress shirt, which is now see-through, clings to his front, outlining every muscle. He moves Damien to the side of his hip, and my eyes zero in on each ridge that makes up his six-pack.
“Are you seriously eye-fucking me right now?” he hisses, forcing me to look up at his face.
“Ooh, you saidfuck! That’s a naughty word.” Damien giggles because he thinks it’s hilarious when an adult curses since I told him it’s not allowed after he came home one day and repeated something he’d heard.
I was always a rule follower. If my mom had told me not to curse, I would’ve listened and probably reprimanded anyone who did.
But my son seems to take after his father more than I’d like to admit. Not only does he have his gray eyes, but he’s also a rule breaker. He loves to push the limits, and he’s mischievous beyond his years. He’s daring and isn’t scared of anything.
“I’m sorry,” Dominick says to Damien, then turns his attention back to me. “Are you seriouslyeyeingme right now when I just had to save our son’s life because you were too busy focusing on me rather than him?”
It takes me a few seconds to wrap my head around what he just said, but once I do, I bark out a laugh. Everything now makes sense—him jumping into the water while still dressed in his work clothes because he thought our son was drowning.
“And now, you’re laughing?” he growls. “I just told my sister that you were a good mother. Maybe I should consider?—”
“Hey,” I bark, my laughter now gone. “I am a good mother.” I pluck Damien from his arms, needing to hold my baby boy. “I’m such a good mother that when our daredevil son, at a year old, jumped into a pool without blinking an eye, I immediately enrolled him in swimming lessons, and he’s been swimming like a fish ever since.”
“Yeah, I swim like a fish!” Damien agrees.
