My Favorite Sin (Playing Favorites #1)

1. Dan

CHAPTER ONE

DAN

author’s note: my favorite sin can be read as a standalone. for the most immersive experience, read the prequel novella first, my favorite girl.

I lost five hundred thousand dollars playing poker earlier today because all I could think about during the game was that time Ally fingered herself in front of me.

I think about that night often, among others which never should have happened between us. She was always so caught up on being a good girl in front of our parents and the public’s eyes. Behind closed doors she was my good girl.

The things she did in front of me were filthy. And yet the one time I kissed her, she ran scared, fleeing from New York to Paris for a year without saying goodbye to me.

She thought a hand-written letter would be an adequate goodbye. While I wait in the terminal for her flight to disembark, I read Ally’s letter again. The paper is crumpled from how many times I’ve studied her words.

I’m in love with you, Dan.

I can’t be in love with you. Our relationship is wrong in every sense.

Fuck. I was in love with her too but never got the chance to tell her .

Who am I kidding, I’m still in love with her. I thought I could stay angry with Ally for leaving the way she did. I thought I could get over her. But this year apart has changed nothing for me. I’m more obsessed with her now than ever. Unlike Ally, I don’t care that her mother and my father are married.

When I return from Paris, I promise I’ll return as your friend and nothing more.

Passengers start trickling out of the arrivals gate. I tuck Ally’s letter into the inside pocket of my jacket and rest one shoulder against the wall while waiting for my girl to appear.

My mind wanders to curiosities about Ally and all the ways she’ll have changed from the girl I knew. Will she have moved on from me like she intended to? Is there someone new in her life? Is she still a virgin?

That last question… My jaw clenches at the thought of anyone touching Ally. Perhaps it’s best I don’t find out the answer.

It’s not long before I spot her among the crowd of passengers. My pulse is thumping so fucking loud in my ears I can’t hear a damn thing inside this airport. The sight of her has me burning up like I’m a teenager again and about to have sex for the first time. How the fuck is Ally more beautiful than the last time I saw her?

How am I supposed to act like nothing happened between us?

Some guy—another passenger, I assume—is chatting her up as they walk with the flow of people. I can’t blame him for being interested in her. She has this alluring presence like she’s not even from this world. The first time I saw Ally she was fifteen, I was a year older, and she looked like some creature that had stepped out of a mythical story. A nymph or a fairy. So incredibly gorgeous.

The Ally in front of me still has that vibe. Her hair is the palest blond, slung over one shoulder and trailing down to her waist. Her complexion matches, as though she’s never stepped foot in the sun. She has the prettiest lips. And those goddamn eyes that constantly say fuck me … I swear they’re the brightest blue any eyes have ever been.

Her fashion hasn’t changed. Always pastels and whites and like she belongs in a country garden. She’s wearing a yellow dress with a delicate pink flower pattern and sleeves that fall off her shoulders. The bodice hugs her tits, which I shouldn’t take notice of, but there’s no ignoring how incredible her cleavage is. A pink satin ribbon sits in her hair. Always the ribbons and bows, like she’s a little girl instead of twenty.

The urge to announce myself is strong. I want to wrap Ally in my arms. Lift her off her toes and spin her in circles. I need to see her smile at me and hear her sweet voice.

I hold off, unsure of our dynamic. I’m not certain she’ll be pleased to see I’m the one picking her up from the airport.

Remaining in my spot, I lean against the wall and watch Ally walk with this guy. He looks to be the same age as us, clean cut and with a smile that lets me know he’s into her. They come to a standstill. As I’ve seen so many times before, Ally starts fidgeting with her hair and shifts back and forth on her feet. Her shoulders grow tight. Her smile is strained. The guy makes eye contact with Ally and her gaze drops to the floor.

She’s still awkward around new people, that much hasn’t changed.

Ally holds her hand out to shake, forcing an end to their interaction. The guy looks down at her palm, a little confused, then shakes it and leaves. I can’t help but laugh over how adorably awkward Ally can be sometimes. I shouldn’t feel so relieved by the guy’s dismissal. It’s not like I can have Ally for myself.

Ally scans the terminal for our parents. My heart pounds so heavily I can feel it as her gaze grows closer and closer to my direction until… Those blue eyes pause on me. We’re staring at each other for what feels like a lifetime. I can’t move. I can’t seem to make myself do anything.

Her cheeks turn rosy beneath my gaze. Then suddenly she’s… smiling at me. It’s small, but the smile is there, and I’m so relieved that she’s pleased to see me.

Ally steps up to me and lowers her carry-on luggage to the ground before wrapping her arms around my neck. The hug is guarded. She doesn’t get too close and keeps distance between our bodies.

I should follow Ally’s lead, but this moment feels surreal, too good to be true, and I pull her close, afraid she’ll disappear. Ally laughs softly, caught off guard by my actions, but doesn’t pull away. The sound of her voice is heaven. I breathe in Ally’s floral scent and hug her tighter. I want to feel her lips beneath mine so fucking badly and remember what she tastes like.

I notice something else that makes me frown. She’s tiny in my arms. Tinier than I remember. Ally hasn’t been taking care of herself. What about her panic attacks? I’ve often worried about her mental health, being alone in a foreign country.

With reluctance, I end the hug, not knowing how to greet her.

I missed you.

I’ve thought about you every day .

You broke my heart, leaving the way you did.

None of those options seem appropriate. “How was your flight?”

“Fine.” Her voice is cautious. She stands in silence, her gaze roaming my face, her expression troubled. “You look really different, like you’ve been hanging around Felix too much.”

In other words, I’ve lost the boyish look of jeans and hoodies and replaced them with suits. I have been hanging around my oldest brother a lot, ever since Ally left. The parties are non-stop. So are the poker games and visits to his speakeasy. Felix was bound to rub off on me.

“What are you doing here?” Ally asks. “I thought our parents were picking me up.”

“They had a last-minute work thing to take care of and called me to be here instead.”

“Okay. No problem. Should we get out of here?”

“Sure.” I pick up Ally’s carry-on luggage and sling it over my shoulder.

“I can carry that.” There’s apprehension in her voice. Perhaps I shouldn’t be carrying her belongings; it’s something a boyfriend would do.

As I pass the bag back to Ally, a camera flash goes off nearby, making her jolt. Several more flashes light up our surroundings. Neither of us bother searching for the photographer. It’s been ingrained in us as offspring of a high-profile marriage to ignore paparazzi. But Ally still hates it.

Our parents are known for their philanthropic ways and five years ago, when they got engaged, they founded Forever Families, a charity to assist families in need. They’ve thrown it upon our family that we’re to be the face of the foundation, portraying how a blended family can be a strong unit. I think it’s great they’re so passionate about helping others. I just don’t want to be a part of it, not when my father has been absent for the majority of my life, and all I ever want to do is get Ally naked. Nor do I want to live my life walking around on eggshells to aid the family image.

“Best part about Paris—no one took my photo.”

“Walk on this side of me,” I tell Ally, placing myself between her and the camera.

I’ve never cared about the public attention as much as she has. When I was younger, sometimes I enjoyed it. But I can’t say I’m looking forward to today’s poker loss hitting the news. Ally, on the other hand, stresses over what the tabloids say about her, always wanting to uphold a good reputation for our parents and Forever Families.

Of course, she never does anything scandalous for the tabloids to report on. At least, nothing anyone knows of, except me. A relationship with me would definitely not be accepted by the public. The last I heard, the media were praising Ally for how talented and dedicated she is to her piano studies at the Paris Conservatoire.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Ally asks as we follow the stream of people heading for the luggage collection area. “Mom told me she and Josh are still living in the beach house. You’re not driving me to The Hamptons at this hour, are you?”

“I thought you could spend a couple of days with me in the city before I take you to our parents.”

Her cheeks darken and she licks her lips, keeping her eyes straight ahead of us. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

My suggestion makes her uncomfortable. The invitation to stay at my place is innocent. Despite still being in love with this girl, I’ve missed having her as my friend this last year. Friendship was the start of our relationship, five years ago when our parents introduced us. From the color in Ally’s cheeks right now, I can tell she’s thinking about all the times we were more than just friends and that staying at my place will be dangerous.

“I can take you to our parents straight away, if you prefer,” I tell her as we step onto the escalator, descending to the ground floor.

“No, don’t hassle yourself. It will be good to spend some time in the city.”

“If you’re sure.”

Our conversation is stilted and unnatural. She’s being awkward around me, and I hate it. One of the things I love most about Ally is how she’s shy around most people except me. She has to be nervous over the way things ended with us. I don’t know how to broach the topic or if I even should. Maybe it’s best I don’t mention the past.

Ally and I rarely spoke about the inappropriate things we used to do. The silence gave her a sense of comfort. It was her way of pretending like she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Is she going to run away all over again if I ask to talk about the past? I can’t risk that, not when I’ve just got her back.

“So, tell me everything about Paris.”

She smiles again, and this time when she talks, the Ally I used to know reappears—the girl who used to talk my ear off for hours on end about her passion for music. Her voice rises in pitch and speed as she launches into a recap of her year abroad. “DeLacroix was such a phenomenal piano teacher. I learned the most amazing things from him. Performed in the most amazing cathedrals. I got to visit so many incredible historical places. Dan, I stood where Debussy stood. It was so surreal to be where these famous composers once were. A dream come true.”

“Did you visit the Catacombs?”

She rolls her eyes at my teasing and gives a laugh of disapproval as we arrive at the baggage collection. “You know that’s illegal.”

“Wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“I visited Saint-Sa?ns’s grave and Chopin’s tomb. Does that count? It was so beautiful but also sad. I shed a few tears.”

Of course she did. I chuckle at the information, relieved that some sense of normality has returned between us.

“I’m being weird, aren’t I? Sorry,” she says. “You probably don’t care about any of these details.”

I have no interest in this classical music stuff whatsoever, aside from the fact that Ally loves it. So, naturally, it’s become a passion of mine too.

“You know I care about these details. I want to hear everything. Ally…” A confession sits on the tip of my tongue. Against the warning in my head, I say the words out loud. “I missed you. I thought about you a lot?—”

“Oh, there’s my suitcase.” Ally points to the conveyor belt and leaves my side.

She heard me. I know she did. She’s setting a precedent. Ally has moved on from me, just like she promised in her letter.

I’m the only one between us who is still plagued with this obsession.