Page 55 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

When I open the bottom drawer where the shoes are neatly placed, there is a lingerie set, also black, and a note that reads, "I want to see how bad you are."

No, you don't, I tell myself. He doesn't want to see how bad I am because every time I have let that side out, it has been because I have had to act that way. At first, it was hard, and I felt a certain type of guilt that always came after every penance in the form of a ritual. It always boiled down to that event, like a turning point. I was now one of them. A hypocrite. I hated how they began to make fun of me everywhere I went, at school or a party. It became easier after Alicia passed. There was no one to talk to or trust with all my secrets. That side of me became a weapon, and Alaric wants to see it in its pure form.

The elevator doors slide open. "Twentieth floor," the voice from the elevator announces. When I walk toward the reception area, Sergio practically jumps out of his chair and rounds his desk. "You look gorgeous," he says, clapping his hands excitedly and checking out my outfit. "Dolce & Gabbana blazer dress and those ankle boots are perfect."

"Thank you."

"He's in his office. He’s in a meeting, but I think they should be wrapping up," he says, but I don't miss the way his lips turn slightly into a frown when he finally says, "Go on in."

I stare at Alaric's door, the butterflies in my stomach dying slowly. He left early for a meeting. The alarm I set on my phone is what finally woke me up.

I turn the handle on the door without knocking, and the sound of female laughter hits me like a slap in the face. "Alaric, it was just breakfast–"

Tara is sitting with her legs crossed in a short skirt. She crosses and uncrosses her legs to attract his attention. Her blouse is open, revealing the top of her bra, screaming I'm a desperate bitch and want to fuck.

My eyes lift and land on Alaric. He looks relaxed without his suit jacket, sporting a blank expression, and I instantly hate that I'm wearing the outfit he picked. My eyes flick back and forth between them. How comfortable they look sitting in his office. He must have taken my advice and took Tara out for breakfast.

"I trust you had a good meeting or…breakfast. Is there anything you need me to work on?" I ask formally.

"Veronica, I heard about your internship here," Tara says in a catty tone.

"I'm sorry about your engagement with Reid."

She smiles dryly. "It worked out alright, I guess. I was dating Alaric, if you can call it that. I think we were better suited than Reid and I were. Arranged marriages work out like that sometimes, and I guess me and Alaric have something in common. We aren't committed. I did hear about yours. Dorian Black. Congratulations. I'm surprised he hasn't swept you away yet."

Bitch.

Tara's father was brought into the Order years ago, but they didn't require Tara to attend Kenyan. She inherited her father's company and has been doing business with the Riordans for years. It was the reason behind the initial arrangement that she and Reid were supposed to be married. Tara has been dying to be tied to one of the sons of Kenyan. She failed with Reid and is trying to get Alaric to commit.

"I'm hard to please," I reply, giving her a closed-lipped grin. My gaze lands on the time from the phone clasped in my hand. Five hours. Five hours and I can get the fuck out of here, and then there is one day left, and I don't have to step foot in his office again.

"I trust you already had breakfast. Ours was great. We went to this little café down the street after our meeting," she drones on, my gaze now locked on Alaric. "The pastries are so good––"

My gaze serenely swings to Tara. "Are you trying desperately to tell me you two are still fucking?" I walk slowly toward the corner of his desk and lean on the edge, watching her raise a brow. Alaric is silent. I swing my long hair to the side, letting the side of Veronica that everyone expects to show up. "Let me guess, he chained you to the wall over there." Her eyes shift to the wall where the chains and different cuffs hang hidden from view, and I know I'm right. "You sucked his cock; he may have…sodomized you, breath play, or chained you." Her eyes light up in recognition while she relieves those moments with Alaric. I hear him clear his throat, but I ignore it. "He does that to every woman, and you're no different. You just…think you are."

"How would you know?" she asks cynically.

I lean close, placing one hand on the arm of the chair she is sitting in, my lips inches from her ear, and say in a soft sultry voice, "It sucks to suck, doesn't it? It must be exhausting trying to fuck your way into an alliance."

I lean back, and her lip curls in a snarl. "Funny coming from you because everyone knows you're a twisted…sick whore probably on meds. I'm surprised Dorian agreed to marry you when no one wants you. You crazy bitch."

"That's enough," Alaric barks.

I let out a sardonic laugh. "It's okay, Alaric. She's right. She's just mad that so am I. The only difference is, I don't give a fuck, and she does." I push off and walk toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks in a hard tone.

I ignore him, walking out his office door, my skin on fire, wishing it would melt the clothes he bought me and, like an idiot, I'm wearing. I close the door and meet Sergio's surprised expression.

"Is everything alright?" Sergio asks.

I walk to the elevator pressing the button repeatedly. "Everything is fine."

"Of course," he mutters.

I pull out the Uber app and order a ride, not caring if I don't complete the internship. What are they going to do, fail me? Alaric would give them a bad report, my professor will fail me, and I won't graduate. Who gives a shit. It's not like I have a promising job when I graduate. It will give them all something else they can criticize and use to make fun of me.

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