The Sins that Ruin (Obsidian Knights Secret Society #3)

12. Scarlett

TWELVE

“I’m watching.”

The next day, I mutter those words under my breath as I pick through the racks of dresses at a small boutique in the West Village. I furrow my brow as I slide the hangers past me. I’d never consider looking at dresses like this. I figured my friend Lacey could help me find something. I look up from the rack and stare at the front door, silently willing her to appear because I need to see a familiar face right now.

Malone’s words loop through my mind.

I’m watching…

What does that even mean?

Is it a threat? Or a promise? I’m sure he’s got someone following me, kind of like a bodyguard. Just like I figure he’s got someone on everyone else in my family, too.

After all, it’s what my body is paying for, right? Isn’t that why I agreed to this fake relationship, this fake engagement, in the first place?

I ignore the small dark thrill that runs through me at the thought. The evil little fantasy that popped into being somewhere between last night and the alley. The one that whispers if he keeps me, I can enjoy—secretly—everything he does to me.

But it’s a fallacy.

As of now, he’s only delivered physical pleasure, a cruel meting out of orgasms. But there’s also that lingering threat of giving me to others. And then the way he took my ass like he did, so viciously, so brutally erotic.

I grip one of the hangers tight and grit my teeth.

I don’t even know if he came home last night, and I’m having weird-ass fantasies about him? What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Girl, what the hell are you doing here?”

Lacey bounces into view. She’s curves and energy and no fucks given. She’s everything I’d love to be, the one who looks like she’s all fun and games, but she’s got a steel trap business mind beneath her bright-pink hair.

I hug her tight. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’d prefer a bar like the one on the other side of Greenwich Street,” she says, nodding at the window. “So… why are we here in Old Lady Central?”

I look around with a gasp, then nudge Lacey. “Shh,” I hiss. “This place isn’t for old ladies.”

She rolls her eyes and nabs a cream dress. “I beg to differ, Scar. Why don’t we blow out of this place, buy some pastries and cakes, and eat our way through your competition over some drinks?”

“Opening a bakery’s hard work.”

“It’s your dream,” she says.

I take the cream dress back and put it on the rack. When the assistant starts to move toward us, cornering us like rats so close to a trap, Lacey stops the woman dead in her tracks with her fierce Lacey look.

I let out a deep sigh. “Right now, I’ve got more pressing issues than scarfing sweets made by my competition.”

“Like what?”

“Like finding a dress.”

She frowns. “You have dresses.”

“Something new. Classy but…” I’m not saying sexy, I’m not telling her what’s going on. “Sexy.”

Her brows rise up. “Classy but sexy? That’s?—”

“And expensive.” I take a breath. “Promise you won’t ask?”

“Hell no.”

I glare at her.

“Fine,” she mutters, looking at some of the other uptight dresses.

I take a deep breath. “For my engagement party tomorrow night.”

“Your—” She slowly turns her head to stare at me, then drags me outside. “Your what?”

“It’s complicated. Family complicated.”

She blows out a breath. “This isn’t the Dark Ages.”

“I know, but… I…”

She narrows her eyes and I drag my gaze in every direction but hers. “You like him.”

“I’m getting married.” I grab her arm and we start walking. “He’s hot. He’s rich. And he’s phenomenal in bed. Like has nothing to do with it.”

Lacey’s silent for way too long. But she’s also a good friend so she doesn’t press me on it. “So you need a dress.”

“Yes.”

Her face relaxes into a smile. “Come on, Cinderella. I know just the place, but you’re gonna owe me…”

By seven p.m. on the night of the engagement party, I’m so damn nervous that I’ve made and frosted two batches of cupcakes. Then I proceeded to eat four of them. I made a pit stop and bought the equipment and ingredients on the way home from shopping yesterday.

I rub my temples, sugar shock setting in. It makes my head throb.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m about to walk into a total sham event with a criminal who is my bullshit betrothed.

I grab the edge of the sleek countertop that I cleaned until it gleamed.

“We’re not a match,” I say out loud to the empty kitchen. “We’re nothing, and the only thing you want is sex.”

I shudder because it’s true. I don’t need to like him to want him. I spent the last twenty-four hours walking on eggshells. Shopping therapy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, even if that shopping’s with Lacey.

She researched Malone but there was no photo to be found, which she claims is weird. She gave me one of her looks that speaks whole books when she saw what kind of business he owns.

But she did help me find the perfect dress, made me spend every cent he gave me, all three thousand dollars.

Who the fuck hands out three thousand in cash?

Criminals. That’s who. Dirty, no-good criminals.

He didn’t come home again last night. I know because I couldn’t sleep. I wandered around the place, walking through all the rooms, and he was nowhere to be found. He sleeps in one of the guest rooms, which was also empty. Although I did notice an old Piguet watch sitting on the nightstand next to the perfectly made bed. The face is scratched and it’s either stopped or doesn’t work, but it’s beautiful.

I don’t know why he’s got an antique watch in that condition by a guest bed.

I don’t know why he’s got quality watches at all. Rolex is more this man’s style. Obvious luxury.

The Piguet sits funny inside me.

It’s more personal.

And then after I checked again this morning…

The bed still hadn’t been slept in.

I smooth my hands down the front of the dress. For Lacey’s help with shopping, I agreed to look at spaces for a bakery. She wants to go into business with me.

But what if I fuck that up? What if my hobby can’t become my reality?

I take a breath, the tray of cupcakes screaming my name.

I’m about to reach for one when my skin starts to sing and tingle.

“Well now, that’s a sight I like to see,” Malone says. “And what the fuck smells so damn good?”

“Cupcakes.” I turn and suddenly forget how to breathe.

He looks…

I clutch the counter for support. His golden hair is slicked back and it shines. That sensual mouth holds the hint of a smile while his vivid green eyes turn molten as they rake over my body.

He looks like every fantasy and orgasm come to life.

He hits the libido and the heart.

He’s fucking gorgeous.

For a brief second, my vision wavers.

Malone looks like a dark and debonair prince, swathed in a black Armani suit, starched white dress shirt, and emerald and amber tie. He’s the epitome of what he claims he wants—respect.

But it goes way beyond that.

He’s the poster boy for class, good breeding, and catch of the year. You’d never know by looking at him that he’s a deviant criminal.

My mouth feels like a wad of cotton is stuffed into it as he approaches. He glides his hand down over the shimmer of the dark-amber material that wraps around me, showing off my figure. The top is low-cut and a slit runs all the way up the left side to the top of my thigh.

The dress is a study in faux respectable. It’s class hiding a whole lot of sexy. And his eyes light up as his fingers find that slit. “Take off your panties.”

“I’m not?—”

“Take them off or I’ll beat your ass, right after you blow me.” He moves his hand down and through the slit to stroke my pussy. I shudder, a gasp slipping from my lips. “Or do you want me to do it? Either way, they’re coming off.”

“And,” I ask, my voice breathy, catching in my throat, “which way would make you happier?”

I’m going for sarcasm, but it comes out sounding a hell of a lot like subservient.

He leans close, sucking the lobe of my ear with the small diamond stud into his mouth. Malone releases me but just moves his mouth up toward mine. “I guess you’ll find out later. Take them off.”

Oh shit. I don’t want to go into my father’s house without my panties on. But this man, he compels me to do things I wouldn’t ever do. And even though it feels wrong, there’s a dark, throbbing thrill in that. Besides, if I don’t… What the fuck will he do?

Spank me.

My pussy clenches, warmth gathering between my thighs.

Or maybe he won’t, maybe he won’t touch me at all.

And I…

Damn it.

I wiggle around and slide them off, then drop them into his outstretched hand. He lifts them to his nose, taking in a deep breath. “Good girl. Ready?”

I swallow the scoff in my throat.

As if.

There’s something erotic about him ignoring me, not touching me except in a very conservative way, knowing I’m not wearing my panties, knowing they’re in his pocket, as we mingle with the guests.

These events, even small ones at the house where I grew up, aren’t things I enjoy.

“This is a rich cunt’s fundraiser?” he asks, voice low as he holds a glass of champagne to his lips.

We’re in the drawing room, and ignoring his insult and crassness, I look around. “This is just something intimate. Dad has something every year in honor of Mom. That’s all. Fundraiser’s probably the wrong word. We used to throw a huge event, but Dad rolled that into a thing that Uncle Grant does and just has this small gathering for her. People make donations in her name to a different charity each year.”

“How rich of you.”

I turn, lancing him with a harsh glare. “I thought you’d appreciate combining something so personal with the engagement announcement. I can call the media if you want,” I spew sarcastically.

He doesn’t smile. “No. This is fine.” Then he kisses me and walks over to a nearby group, leaving me by myself in search of a corner to hide in.

I feel completely on my own here. I didn’t invite Lacey since she hates these things. She came to one and vowed never to show her face at another again. Amelia is apparently at home with a friend. And knowing Uncle Grant, he’ll have security down in the lobby of their building.

I make my rounds with people I either don’t know or just recognize through Dad’s past work events.

Every guest is moneyed and well-heeled, and Malone…

I frown, leaning against the wall, sipping my champagne, watching as he charms the pants off a rich CEO and her husband.

He fits right in.

Maybe even better than me because I don’t want to be part of this world. I don’t want to live in tight confines of this upper echelon community or marry money first and a man second.

I duck down the hallway and head down to Dad’s beautiful study where I do my admin work.

“There you are.”

“Dad?” I jump when the desk lamp turns on, flooding the room with light. My chest tightens. Jesus. My father looks so old. Panic etched into the deep lines on his face. He’s beyond worried. “Is everything okay?”

“I was going to ask you the same. This whole thing is your uncle’s doing.”

He means Malone.

“This was supposed to be about him helping us and now there’s an engagement?—”

“Dad,” I say, laying a hand on the sleeve of his suit. “It’s fine.”

“And if he’s after your money?”

I stare at my father. “Are you worried for my safety or for the Hanlon fortune?”

“Scarlett…” He scrubs a hand over his face and walks over to the bar where he pours himself a glass of cognac. “That isn’t fair. Someone’s targeting us for reasons we don’t understand, and this man you’ve taken up with… your uncle insists he can help, but I get a bad vibe just by looking at him.”

I drain my champagne and pour myself some rum. I take a long gulp and stare at the bottles in front of me.

He’s acting like I’ve chosen this… Malone… not that I’ve been pushed into this situation where I’m basically a glorified prostitute. They had to know this man would want me. I didn’t think so, but now…

There’s something in his tone that makes me question his words.

“Oh, do you?” I snap.

“Scarlett,” he says, pausing for a second as if he’s debating his next words. “There’s been another threat. This man, is it… is it worth it? Will he really help us?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Yes. So did that kill the vibe? Do you like him now?”

“I’m just worried about you. There’s something I don’t like?—”

“Yes, you already said that. I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a criminal,” I bite out, a tiny part of me wondering if there is any shortage of criminals in my life at this point. “What’s to like?”

“As long as you believe he can help.” My father pauses. “Keep us all safe.”

It dawns on me right then that he’s worried about the business first, then himself and Grant and then me and Amelia.

Maybe I’m being unfair, but my gut says I’m a hundred percent right.

And it pisses me the fuck off.

“Thank you,” Dad says, “for doing your part for the family.”

I open my eyes, toss back the rest of my drink, and put down the glass, shaking with deep-rooted anger at my situation.

“Because…” He moves back toward his desk and pulls something out before handing it to me. “We got this. Someone wants something from us, something to do with the client list. It’s obviously a threat.”

“So give them the list and be done with it.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be finished. It’s beyond confidential and… there’s nothing about it that would warrant threats like this, Scarlett.”

I open the note.

It’s a threat all right.

Against Amelia’s life.

I meet my father’s gaze.

“Dad,” I say, “Amelia’s only fifteen. Why would someone threaten her?”

Footsteps from behind me stop Dad’s next words.

“I’d like to know the answer to that, too,” Malone says, folding his arms over his chest.