Page 48 of Billionaire's Sins
Twenty.
I wince. Almost ask Him if he is sure, but of course, He is. And I am not one to question the Lord. I rise to my feet, walk over to my closet and pull out my discipline. I peel off my shirt, walk over to the center of the room, then whip myself. Pain pulses up my spine, my skin gives, blood seeps down my back. The pent-up pressure inside me lessens and my muscles loosen. I whip myself again and again. By the time I reach ten, my arms ache and my back hurts. Blood runs down to drip onto the floor. I draw in a breath, whip myself again, and the strands of the whip curl around me, to slice open the skin on my belly. I grunt, allow the pain to absolve me, whip myself faster and faster. Sweat pools under my armpits, drenches my back and sinks into my blood. Pain thuds at my nerve-endings, at my temples, behind my eyes. I don’t stop until I hit twenty, then lower the discipline to my side. I glance up at the wooden cross on the wall, my limbs trembling, my throat dry.
Do You forgive me now my Lord? Am I still Yours?
I squeeze my eyes and wait, wait.
There’s no answer.
21
Edward
"What are you punishing yourself for?"
I drag my attention away from the window of Sinclair’s conference room. The very same place where, not long ago, the six of us had stood, discussing the disbursement of funds for the new non-profit that Sinclair had suggested. The same one that I am hoping we can put to good use in initiatives I consider worthy.
"What do you mean, punishing?" I turn to face Sinclair, who’s sprawled out in his chair. He seems, for all the world, like a man at peace with his world, which, of course, he is.
He’s married and Summer, his wife, only recently discovered she’s pregnant. Between him and Saint and Damian—that’s already three anticipated arrivals in our circle. Given how madly in love they are, I wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of them follow suit shortly. They deserve it, all of them. Every single slice of happiness that comes their way. After everything we’ve been through, it’s only fair that the rest of them have the best years of their lives to look forward to.
And you? What about you?
I am on a different path. Like Baron. Even before the incident, the two of us had always been different from the rest of the Seven. And then the incident, while it had brought us together… In some ways, it had also highlighted how disparate we were from the rest.
"I mean," Sinclair leans forward, "you look like shit, Father."
No kidding. I rub my unshaven jaw. It’s been two days since I saw her. Two days since I shaved. Two days since I atoned, or tried to compensate, for my slip up. The Lord hasn’t spoken to me since.
Not that I am worried. I’ve gone for days…months in the past, when He’d retreated to the Light. He’ll return to me… He has to… He always does. He’s done so on the other occasions when I had erred. None of them had been as serious as this, though.
I’d chosen Him though, hadn’t I? I had turned my back on the one good thing that had come across my path. I had torn out my heart and willingly offered it to the Lord.So, what more does He want from me?
I clear my throat, then turn to stare out the window. "Why did you want to talk to me?"
"Baron."
I still, then compose my features into one of nonchalance before I turn to him. "You heard from him?"
"That’s what I was going to ask you." He scowls at me. "You were the one who heard from him last, isn’t that right?"
I nod. "Nothing since that last letter.
"Hmm." Sinclair leans his elbows on the table, then presses his fingers together.
"Doesn’t it strike you as odd that he’d write, out of the blue, to warn us of the Mafia?’
"It’s Baron." I raise my shoulders. "Who knows what prompts him to do what he does?"
"I thought you guys were close."
"Close?" I laugh. "That’s not how I would put it." I drag my fingers through my hair. "More like, at loggerheads."
"Enough to keep sniping at each other all the time. Enough that when you were at your lowest, he tracked you down and hauled your arse out of that drug-den you’d crawled into."
I set my jaw.
Sinclair folds his arms across chest, "You thought you and Baron came out of the incident the worst, so it gave the two of you some kind of permission to form your own pity club within the Seven—"
