Page 28 of Beautiful Sinners

“Ginger ale?” I don’t think my stomach could hold down anything solid right now.

The inside of the plane is a lot bigger than I would’ve expected—plush, leather executive seats that have extendable footrests, a galley that looks like a Michelin-star kitchen, a full bedroom suite at the back with a king bed and en suite that includes a shower.

I’m escorted to a small, partitioned room on the right side of the plane near the front, and I stop short when I see Evan sitting at a round table with a laptop opened in front of him. Cillian insisted Evan come with us, something the guys were not at all happy about.

The woman immediately blushes when he looks up. “Pardon the intrusion, Mr. McCarthy. Miss Fitzpatrick would like to use the Wi-Fi.”

He slides the laptop over to where the unoccupied seat is next to him. “Be my guest.”

I’m already slowly backing away. “I can wait until you’re done.”

He stands and waves me over with a curl of his fingers. “I’m done.”

The woman touches my arm. “I’ll be right back with your drink.”

“Thank you,” I reply and walk over to the empty seat next to Evan. “Is it okay for me to email Raquelle? She was expecting me back already, and I haven’t sent proof of life, so I know she’s worried.”

His mouth turns up in a smirk. “Proof of life?”

“It’s a thing with her,” I reply.

He smiles, and it’s such a nice, friendly smile. I don’t know how to reconcile him being the son of a mafia kingpin with the nice guy I met in class. But if Cillian is a distant cousin, that makes Evan my cousin, too. I went from losing all my family to gaining another one unexpectedly.

Evan waits for me to sit, then returns to his chair. Neither of us says anything for a good two minutes. So fucking awkward.

“So,” he says, relaxing back like we have all day.

“So,” I reply, then, “Cousins, huh?”

“Distantcousins,” he emphasizes and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Do you wear those all the time?” I ask.

“I have contacts, but I don’t like them.”

More awkward silence.

Evan glances at my exposed arm, seeing the scars. “We met before, but you probably don’t remember me.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” I reply and want to pull down the sleeve of my shirt but don’t.

“It’s okay. I didn’t think you would.” I freeze up when he reaches across the table and covers my hand. “Dad brought me to the private clinic where they treated you. He said they had to put you in a medically induced coma but that your subconscious would be able to hear me if I talked to you.” He chuckles. “I read to you every day.Hatchet. Where the Red Fern Grows. The Island of the Blue Dolphins. When you were stable enough, you and Dierdre were sent to the States, and I never saw you again. Dad said I wasn’t allowed to contact you, but I asked about you often. If you were okay. If you were happy.” His eyes rove over me in an appreciative way. “You look so different from the little blonde girl I read to every day at the hospital.”

I gape at Evan, completely at a loss for words. Holy shit. I didn’t know any of this.

I remove my hand from under his and wrap my arms around my waist as a few of the puzzle pieces begin to click into place.

“The scholarship to DF was just a way to get me there, wasn’t it?”

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods.

I thought I had been accepted to the prestigious university and awarded the Knight Foundation scholarship based on my merits and grades. I worked so hard in high school to catch up and excel because I was behind due to my year in hospital and follow-up treatments. But like everything else, it was all a fabrication.

“Why?”

Drumming his fingers on the tabletop, he replies, “It was time.”

“Time for what?” I demand to know.

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