Page 85 of Beautiful Sinners

It’s immature to lower to her level, but she called me burn girl, so I couldn’t resist using the name Hendrix called her sorority.

Her head tilts to the side like a dog’s when it’s trying to understand what a human is saying. It’s impossible not to think about Hendrix fucking her when she’s standing right in front of me. It makes me physically nauseous.

“Have you seen Hendrix? I’ve been trying to call him, and I stopped by the house last night and this morning, but no one was there.”

Jealousy and possessiveness rear their ugly heads, and along with them come the compulsion to lash out. It would be so easy to break her thin bones, preferably all ten fingers so she never tries to touch what’s mine again.

“Haven’t seen him.”

“What about Tristan?”

The other woman’s contemptuous gaze sears into me with unbridled hostility at the mention of his name. I’m tempted to ask her what her problem is.

Being obtuse, I shrug. “Haven’t seen him either. I have somewhere I need to be, so if you’ll excuse me.”

If it were only that simple.

Serena huffs and rolls her eyes like talking to me is exhausting. “You’re fucking Tristan and Constantine and staying at their house. How could you not know where they are?”

Damn Tristan for telling her that.

“Doesn’t mean I’m their babysitter,” I reply as nicely as I can when all I want to do is throat punch her Botoxed face.

I don’t stick around. My manners only go so far.

“Tell Tristan that Katalina would like to talk to him.”

Katalina. Where have I heard that name before?

As I keep walking, she tacks on “ugly bitch” loud enough for me and everybody else to hear. God, I can’t stand her. How Hendrix could even tolerate being around her, let alone stick his dick in her is beyond my comprehension—and repulsive.

After crossing the quad, it takes another five minutes before I arrive at the bell tower. The angle of the sun hits the glass windows and creates a blinding glare. Shielding my eyes, I look up at the old clock face. I thought I’d be more nervous, but my mind is calm, and my heart rate is steady. I don’t even know if Aleksander is here. I didn’t really think that part through. The security cameras would have already alerted him to my presence, so it’s not like I’m going to surprise him.

“Alright, Aleksander. Game on,” I mutter and open the front entrance door.

A gust of cold air hits my face, caused by the pressure difference between the warmer outside temperature and the air-conditioned indoors. The lobby is empty and dark, but the elevator doors are open, just like the last time I was here. With every step I take, the rubber soles of my borrowed Skechers squeak across the polished floor and echo around the cavernous space.

As soon as I step inside the elevator, the doors close, and the lift starts moving without me doing anything. Oh yeah. He’s definitely here.

Expecting Aleksander to be standing on the other side, I brace when the elevator stops and the doors slide open. What I’m met with is mute darkness.

The outlines of furniture sharpen once my eyes adjust. Blackout curtains cover the window, not letting through even a sliver of afternoon light. Just when I’m about to turn around and leave, thinking no one is home after all, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms rise, warning me I’m not alone. It’s then I see a silhouette across the room. Aleksander is watching me.

There’s a clink of ice against glass as he raises his drink to his lips, those pewter eyes never leaving me as I warily enter his apartment.

“You came back.”

His voice sounds different. Coarser.

“You knew I would.”

The questions and doubts he left me with guaranteed I would come.

Recessed ceiling lights turn on as Aleksander saunters over to the coffee table and sets down his drink. He pulls one end of the men’s tie he’s wearing through the knot, then slides it from under the collar and drops it onto the table.

“Have you told Gabriel about Alana?” When his brow furrows, I clarify, “Dierdre.”

“Not yet.”

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