Page 60 of Make Me A Sinner
-Serena-
“This is…,” I trail off, unsure how to introduce Set. He didn’t introduce me in any specific way. So I guess I don’t owe him a title.
“Set Malvagio,” he cuts in, wrapping a hand around my waist to givemesome sort of title—even if I said nothing before.
“Christina Simmer,” my sister quickly extends her hand and gives a small bow with her head like he’s royalty or something.
I can’t tell if she’s in shock or just straight-up dazzled, but the way she’s looking at him definitely betrays her thoughts.
“Gregory Simmers,” her husband jumps in to introduce himself—which is rare. He’s usually the kind of arrogant asshole who waits for people to notice him—not the other way around. But with Set, things are different. The pull he has over people is so strong, no one can help but recognize him for what he really is—a leader.
I noticed this before, but I always thought it was with people who already knew him. Now, it was with someone close to me. Someone who’d never even met him before.
“This is my sister. And her husband,” I clarify for Set, though I’m pretty sure he already figured it out—either from the resemblance between us, or whatever file he has on me.
“Good genes run in the family, I see,” he says, tilting his glass with a smile. He’s on his best behavior—outwardly, because the hands sneaking down on my ass tell me it’s all for show. “So, what do you do, Gregory?” Set asks, trying to spark a conversation and actually be civil for a change. For my sake, obviously.
“I’m a plastic surgeon,” Gregory says proudly, then launches into a rant about some Hollywood stars he’s worked on, while my sister looks at me like I just landed from Mars.
Her lips move, but nothing coherent comes out. “What the fuck?” she mimics a message ment only for me, as if Set doesn’t have eyes of his own, and can’t read her lips. She’s painfully obvious. And somehow, her shock makes me feel like I’m the one who’s not worthy of him.
Maybe it’s because he’s everything Nick wasn’t. Set carries that kind of certainty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing every step of the way, and every word he says is somehow calculated to be fucking perfect. Actually, the only time I saw him lose his words was with me. With everyone else, he always owns the room.
I’m still mad at him about what happened with that blonde earlier, but I’m also very much turned on by him playing the good guy for my sake. And from the glimmer in his eyes, he damn well knows it.
Of course, my sister can’t help herself, but askthe question. “So you two...” then stops, leaving us to fill in the blanks.
Set doesn’t answer, though, leaving it hanging so I’m the one forced to fill her in. “We live together,” I answer, intertwining my fingers with his. When it came to my sister, I was always ashamed that I even knew Nick, let alone had something to dowith him. But with Set, things are totally different. I’m proud to be with him—proud of the power that comes from having him by my side. Maybe even proud of the jealousy too.
“So what do you do for a living?” Gregory asks.
I can see it on my Chistina’s face that she expects him to say something amazing. And, as always, Set delivers. He starts listing his businesses, and no doubt, the properties he owns. Next thing I know, he’s their fucking god. Once you have enough money, it doesn’t matter how you got it. She used to hate Michael for stealing. But somehow, she never questioned how a man like Set made that kind of money at his age.
We talk for a few more minutes—until Gregory spots one of his colleagues, and they have to go. This is what the party is all about, after all—keeping the connections alive.
As soon as they leave, I step away from Set, and head back to the bar. We seem to have drifted from it while talking to make room for different people. And I’m suddenly very thirsty.
Even if the whole purpose was to leave him behind, he follows, the devious grin shining again on his lips. “What’s wrong?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know what’s wrong.
I just turn my back on him and order another Manhattan. I’m not in the mood to start giving him explanations. Not when he’s the one who owes me some.
“Serena,” he says in a much more angered tone. And I know if I won’t talk to him, he’ll probably pull some dumbass move that’ll drag everyone’s attention on us.
“What?” I shoot back, holding my ground.
“I asked what’s wrong?” he grunts, jaw already tight, arms crossed, and that vein in his neck already pulsing.
“I don’t want to do this right now,” I snap, my eyes burning into him. Every fucked-up things he’s ever done crashes into my mind at once. I think it has something to do with my sister reminding me of Nick. Or maybe it’s the guilt starting to crawlin. And for what? So he can keep secrets from me and fuck that woman behind my back. Just like Nick did.
“Don’t do this here,” he breathes as if he’s barely holding himself together. I’m starting to get him. And I know he likes a little sass from me to spice things up, but not defiance—especially notpublic defiance.
“I’m not doing anything,” I leave him by the bar, grab my Manhattan, and move to the far side of the room, like we’re done for the night.
He doesn’t follow this time. And while part of me is relieved, another part wonders if I just pushed him straight toward the wrong choice—especially as that blonde, Phro, starts slinking up to him again.
Phro—what fucking kind of name is that anyway?
As if I wasn’t already pissed, I catch him glancing at me, then turning his back on me and starts talking to her, like she’s his real date for the night.
