17. His Sinner
Chapter seventeen
His Sinner
The sharp ring of my cellphone jolts me awake, and I groggily reach over, fumbling for it on the nightstand. The screen flashes Mason and, for some reason, my stomach twists as I remember last night.
I take a breath, willing my voice to sound steady as I answer. “Hey, Mason.”
“Morning, beautiful,” his voice comes through, warm and familiar. “Hope I didn’t wake you up too early.”
I shift under the blankets, suddenly hyper-aware of the hoodie I’m still wearing. “No, it’s okay,” I say, trying to shake off the lingering haze of last night. “I was… just about to get up anyway.”
There’s a pause, then he chuckles. “It’s Saturday, Aria. Since when are you up early on a Saturday?”
“Since… today, I guess,” I mumble, a faint smile tugging at my lips. I sit up, hugging my knees to my chest, the fabric of the hoodie pooling around me. “How’s the conference going?”
“Eh, boring as hell. You’re not missing much, trust me.” His laugh comes through the line, and for a second, I can picture him sitting in some impersonal hotel room, papers and medical notes scattered around. “I miss you, though. Feels weird not coming home to you.”
The words hang in the air, and for a split second, I freeze, not knowing how to respond. The pang of guilt sharpens as I glance down at the worn cuffs, the familiar fabric that holds so much history.
“I miss you too,” I say, though the words feel heavy, awkward, almost hollow.
“And,” he says, his voice dropping into that warm, teasing tone he knows I like, “don’t think I forgot—there’s a bottle of wine in my fridge with our names on it when I get back. Dinner and a movie. Something relaxing.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, forcing the smile to stay in my voice.
I should be looking forward to it, I should be excited to have him come home and spend time together. But all I can think about is last night, of the feel of Dominic’s presence in my room, the silent weight of his gaze behind that damn mask.
And I know it’s him. I just know.
“You’re keeping the place in one piece without me?” he jokes, and I can hear him smiling, that easygoing laugh that once made me feel safe. But today, it just feels like static, like noise over something else pulsing beneath my skin.
“Of course,” I say, managing a small smile he can’t see. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it under control.”
Mason deserves better. He deserves my full attention, my whole heart. But right now, I can barely keep my head above water, much less pretend to be the devoted fiance he thinks I am.
“I love you, Aria,” he says softly.
“I love you too,” I say automatically, though the words feel strange. The words of a different version of me, a version that hasn’t had her world turned upside down in the span of one night.
When he hangs up, I let the phone drop onto the bed beside me, staring down at the screen, feeling the hollowness in my chest. I glance down at Dominic’s hoodie, the fabric soft against my skin, and the guilt settles in deeper.
Mason’s voice, his easy affection, should be enough. But here I am, tangled up in thoughts of someone else, someone who’s pulled me back into a world I thought I’d left behind.
I lie back against the pillows, my mind racing as last night comes flooding back. Dominic was here. Right here, in my bedroom. He got in without a sound, slipped in and out like a shadow. And he left, silent as ever, leaving nothing behind but a lingering scent and a sense of unease that refuses to leave.
I shiver, pulling the hoodie tighter around me. If he could get in once, he could do it again. The thought sends a chill through me. How safe am I, really, if he can slip past my locks, my alarms, and just stand over me, watching, waiting? And what does he want? Why come back now, after all this time?
I sit up, rubbing my hands over my face, trying to pull myself together. I know I should tear the hoodie off, shove it back in that box where it belongs, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
There’s a comfort in it, a familiarity that feels grounding, like it’s holding the fragments of me together, even as everything else slips.