Page 26 of Sinner's Salvation

“What would you do?” I ask her.

Everyone stares at me. I successfully surprised everyone in the car, including myself.

“I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist, but I’ll talk to some of my colleagues.”

“I’m sure they tried everything,” I mumble, dragging a hand down my face. “Don’t bother.”

“Well, then, what is your alternative?” Hayden asks.

I don’t know. I am torn between letting her stew in her dysfunction and pushing until she finally snaps out of it.

“Violet was brave tonight. Maybe she will surprise all of us,” Aurora says.

Daniel, the driver, parks the car in front of my house and opens the door for me. I am almost out when Cato snickers. “No goodbye?”

Fuck it.

Storming in, I take the stairs two at a time. Inside my bedroom, I rip my suit off and get in the shower. I hang my head as the hot water cleanses me of this anger. It’s a part of me every day.

I flatten my palms against the wall and close my eyes to images of undressing her.

What’s beneath that black facade? I don’t think I ever imagined how undressing a woman with so many protective shields would be. But I can’t and won’t. I’d rather shoot myself in the dick than take an unwilling woman.

I do the next logical thing once I dry myself. I call the tattoo parlor Cato always goes to and make an appointment. A dick piercing sounds like a good plan. By the time it heals, maybe I’ll get used to not having sex again.

***

After three days, I am more mentally stable and head to the compound. The discomfort in my dick hasn’t eased since getting an apadravya piercing. While the piercer rambled about increased sexual pleasure, I focused on the healing process and how long it takes. According to him, it will take three to six months to heal. Since I’m embarking on a journey of celibacy, that won’t be a problem. I will have to adapt to my new sex-free life during that time.

The guys sit at the conference room table, their disappointed glares pointed at me.

Cato scowls. “Look who decided to grace us with his presence.”

I take a seat and ask, “Why the long faces?”

“There is a power shift in New York. Tristan and his uncle are at war over the leadership. We’ll never make amends if we pick a side, and it’s the losing one.”

It’s a constant power struggle.

Kieran, who is deep in his laptop, scanning the screen, says, “Someone is trying to fuck with my bank.”

“What?”

“I have to give it to them. They’re smart enough to go through multiple offshore accounts, so it’s hard to follow.”

Hayden cocks his head. “Someone flooded the trade market with worthless papers.”

We look at each other.

My phone pings, and when I answer, Lauren, my assistant, says, “Turn on the news.”

I power up the TV, and Michael Bloom, an independent candidate for senator, is holding a lively press conference about corruption and unraveling secrets about me.

“We’re being attacked.” I point out the obvious.

“Who the fuck would dare?” Cato asks. Good fucking question, mainly because we have successfully eliminated all the threats against us. Or so we thought.

“This is war,” Kieran says.

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