Page 40 of Beautiful Sinners

I can see the ‘no’ forming, but he jerks his chin and doesn’t let go of my hand when he slides across the seat and follows me out.

Evan takes the lead as we walk over to the elevator bay. One of the guards presses the up button, while the other holds a finger to his right ear and speaks quietly into what I assume is a wireless mic.

Within seconds, the elevator doors slide open, and—holy shit. The guy standing in the center of the elevator is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Rich caramel skin and jet-black hair surrounding an exotic face. But it’s his light blue eyes that stand out the most. I amend that thought when the man’s full lips part in a smile, and he greets us with a friendly hello in an accent similar to Constantine’s when he speaks Portuguese.

“Andie apologizes for not being the one to meet you when you arrived, but Sarah woke up from a bad dream, so she’s getting her settled back down.”

He steps aside, and we take that as our cue to cram inside the lift. It’s spacious enough that I don’t feel claustrophobic with five large men crowding me.

“Andie has a daughter?” I ask.

The man presses his thumbprint to a biometrics panel, and the lift whirs to life as we start to ascend.

“Niece. Sort of. But yeah, our daughter, too.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I slide closer to Tristan’s side and readjust the grip of our hands by accordioning our fingers together.

“I’m Rafe, by the way,” he adds.

A long pause of silence follows, made more uncomfortable by the fact there is no tinny elevator music playing softly in the background.

“Rafael Ortiz?” Tristan cautiously queries, and Rafe nods.

As if Rafe is a potential threat, Tristan clutches me tightly to him just as Constantine hems me in from the other side. I love how the guys immediately jump in to protect me, but it irks me at the same time because I don’t need men to ride to my rescue.

Rafe notices their reaction to his name, and his stunning blue eyes roll skyward as he sighs.

“I’m not my father. Or my brother. And they’re dead, so chill the fuck out. Pardon my language,” he says to me.

“I’ve heard worse,” I reply but don’t get to say more because the elevator jolts to a stop, and the doors slowly gape apart…

…to reveal Alana waiting for us on the other side.

CHAPTER 14

My hand unintentionally crushes Aoife’s, and a strangled noise vibrates my throat when I see my sister standing there. Older but the same as I remember. Her dark hair is shorter, angled at her chin, and her skin carries the deeper bronzed hue of someone who enjoys being outdoors. There are laugh lines etched into the creases of her brown eyes and in the corners of her mouth. She looks good. Healthy. Happy. And seeing it makes me furious.

While Deirdre was off playing mom and living a peaceful, contented existence, I was having the shit beat out of me on a daily basis by our father and being forced to live a life I never wanted. I loved my sister, but she apparently didn’t feel the same way. She could’ve taken me with her. She could’ve reached out at any time over the last ten damn years and let me know she was alive. That Aoife was alive and with her. Instead, she left me in hell and never looked back.

My sister stares at me, and I despise the concern I see as she takes in the state of my bruised face and swollen lip.

“Are you okay?” she asks like she has every right.

“Don’t,” I snap. She doesn’t get to pretend like everything is normal.

Dierdre’s gaze briefly falls to where Aoife’s hand is joined with mine before rising to look directly at her. She holds her arms apart as if she’s expecting Aoife to come to her; however, Aoife doesn’t rush forward and embrace her like I expect her to. Aoife’s message to Deirdre is loud and fucking clear. My girl just chose sides. She chose me.

Dierdre’s arms listlessly fall to her sides. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s so good to see you.”

Is she for real?

“You don’t get to call her that.”

My sister’s eyes flash with hurt. “She’s my daughter.”

The anger I had been struggling to hold in erupts. “She’s not your fucking daughter!”

Aoife lays her free hand against my chest. “Tristan, don’t.”

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