7. Sina
The building Dr. Petrelli told me to go to didn’t look anything like Bloom’s office. This place seriously looked abandoned. I frowned but paid my driver, thanked him, and stepped out of the vehicle.
“Here goes nothing.”
I swung my purse over my shoulder and headed toward the metal doors.
Should I knock?
I huffed a laugh. Ridiculous . I shouldn’t be so worried. It’s the middle of the day, and this is the place I was told to go to. Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the doors open, letting the late-morning light filter into the stuffy room.
It looked more like a warehouse than an office, with solid-beam pillars, windows high up on the walls, and mostly empty space. A faint glow came from an overhanging light, dust motes floating lazily in the air.
This place was fucking creepy.
It reminded me of those mafia romance books I loved so much.
The ones where the protagonist gets kidnapped, tied to a chair in the middle of a room, and the villain—aka the love interest—burns the world down to find her.
Only here there was a circle of chairs instead of a single one, and it looked more like they were about to perform a seance.
God , I seriously needed to stop letting my brain conjure up things like that.
Witches and soul sacrifices weren’t real, Sina.
I stepped further inside, letting the metal doors slam closed behind me. My pulse picked up and I cringed at the echo the doors created. I bit my lip, a nervous habit, as movement to my left caught my attention.
I froze.
“Hello?” I called out, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.
Oh great. I was like those typical white girls in scary movies who called out to the monsters hiding in the shadows.
Shut the fuck up, Sin .
“Can I help you?” a smooth voice cut through the silence.
I stifled a scream, my hand flying to my mouth as I whirled around to face my attacker.
“What the fuck ? Don’t sneak up on people like that!”
The man frowned, hunched forward with his hands in his pockets. Blond hair fell over his forehead in messy waves, his dark-rimmed glasses reflecting the light. He wore a navy button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, tucked neatly into dark grey slacks.
He took a step toward me, and suddenly our faces were closer than I expected, his warm breath puffing against my cheek.
Minty.
He frowned but said nothing.
“Seriously, this place is creepy enough. Let’s not add sneaking around in the dark,” I muttered.
I suddenly felt too exposed under the intensity of his stare. He didn’t move. Just watched.
It was… fucking creepy, okay?
“Are you done?” he asked, voice calm. Bored.
“That depends. Are you always this welcoming to new patients?”
I had a feeling this jerk was my new therapist. I wasn’t positive, but his vibe screamed in charge. My cheeks heated with uncertainty.
“I suppose introductions are in order,” he finally said after what felt like the longest staring contest of my life. “Nikolai Petrelli. But you can call me Dr. Petrelli. Or Sir.”
I snorted. “Sir? Really ?”
He needed to take the giant stick out of his ass.
When he didn’t laugh, my smile fell. I crossed my arms over my chest, which only made me feel even more awkward as all my bravado evaporated .
Staring at him was intimidating as hell. I narrowed my eyes, I wasn’t calling him sir.
“Yeah… I guess. Dr. Petrelli.” I shrugged and looked around the room, grateful for the distraction.
He grunted once before starting toward the center of the room with slow, deliberate steps. Shoulders rounded, hands still tucked into his pockets. With him hunched just enough to make himself look smaller, it should have made him less imposing.
Somehow, it didn’t.
“Come,” he said over his shoulder, calm and smooth.
“Not yet I’m not,” I quipped without thinking, rolling my lips between my teeth to stop myself from saying something even worse.
He turned slightly, one eyebrow lifting in question. A darkness flickered in his gaze as it swept over me. Again, he didn’t reply, only pushed up the rim of his glasses with his middle finger.
I bit my lip harder.
Fuck.
Why did I find that movement so damn hot?
My pulse spiked, heat pooling low in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to say it.
Oh, who was I kidding? Yes I did.
But it was a joke. I tended to do that when I felt awkward. And when he looked at me like that, I was completely mesmerized. I smirked. I didn’t regret it at all. I found myself following him.
The door behind me creaked open and the sound made me jump. Again .
“ Jesus ,” I muttered under my breath, clenching my jaw.
I seriously needed to calm the fuck down.
A rush of low voices filtered in from the front entrance.
My gaze snagged on a familiar build first—broad shoulders stretched tight beneath a leather jacket, massive arms moving easily as he walked.
My pulse spiked in recognition. Holy shit.
It’s the hottie from Jack’s. I sucked in a sharp breath as I drank him in.
He had the same leather jacket on from last night and that same easy swagger.
“ You ,” I said in surprise.
The three men paused mid-conversation, all eyes turning toward me, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him.
“If it isn’t the little spitfire waitress from Jack’s Bar.” His voice slid over me, dark and velvety, making my skin tingle.
Just as deep and sinful as last night.
Fuck . Why did I find it so sexy?
“It’s Sina, actually.”
He hummed. “I think I prefer to call you my little spitfire. ”
A tingling sensation ghosted across my skin. I swallowed hard, ignoring the way the nickname made me feel. It sounded more badass than the cutesy names other men used. And I kind of liked it.
I lifted my chin. “Two times in less than twenty-four hours… in a city this big, no less. If I were a paranoid person, I’d say you were following me.”
His mouth curved slowly into a smile as he gave me a once-over.
“I could say the same thing to you though, couldn’t I?”
I shook my head. “I was here first, so definitely not.”
“You really are full of fire, aren’t you Sina?” he chuckled, and my heart fluttered.
“Who are you? I should know who my stalker is.”
“Kiron.”
He didn’t deny being my stalker.
Interesting.
I mouthed his name without thinking, tasting it on my lips .
His nostrils flared, eyes flashing red for a heartbeat before darkening again to their usual almost-black brown.
He stopped in front of me, his friends flanking him on either side.
Damn, Kiron was so tall I had to tilt my head back just to keep his face in view.
Petrelli wasn’t as tall, though with him hunching forward I couldn’t be completely sure.
Kiron easily had at least forty pounds on him too.
“How tall are you?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
I bit my lip. Mortified.
I needed to learn to shut up. I swear my mouth was going to be the death of me.
The man to Kiron’s left barked a laugh, startling me. There was nothing warm or friendly about it. My skin prickled with unease. I told myself it was just the warehouse—the echoing space, the dim light, the way every sound seemed too loud in here. Anyone would feel on edge in a place like this.
I forced my shoulders to relax and brushed it off.
I finally spared a glance at his friends. The one on the left, who’d laughed, slapped Kiron on the shoulder playfully.
“ Yep . Ki here’s a big motherfucker. What are you? Six and a half feet tall?”
“Six five,” Kiron replied evenly, his dark eyes never leaving mine.
My gaze trailed down to his thick thighs. The fabric of his jeans stretched taut over the muscle.
And I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree.
His friend laughed again.
My eyes whipped back up to Kiron’s face with a gasp.
“Did I just say that out loud?”
His answering grin was sinful.
“ Damn , Ki. Did you hear that? She definitely wants you. ”
Kill. Me. Now.
I tore my gaze from Kiron, embarrassed, eyeing his friend warily. He was the shortest of the three men, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. Plus, he wasn’t exactly smiling. More like baring his teeth.
Pale skin stretched over sharp cheekbones and an even sharper jaw, lined with black ink.
Snake and vine tattoos crawled up his neck in black and grey.
The sides of his dark hair were shaved, the top spiked in every direction.
Black eyeliner rimmed icy blue eyes that glinted with something amused and hungry.
He had gauged ears and a lip piercing that completed the gothic look.
But it was the graphic tee paired with leather gloves that stood out more than anything.
I realized I’d been holding my breath.
God . This guy was unsettling. He was hot, sure, but my body hadn’t gotten the memo that I should be backing away.
He was… intense . To say the least.
“It’s Sina?” he asked, tilting his head. The movement was animalistic enough to make me swallow thickly. A slow grin curved his mouth when I looked back into his eyes, like my discomfort entertained him.
Jerk.
Finally I nodded, caught off guard by how sharp those charcoal-rimmed eyes were.
“Since Ki here is apparently allergic to manners, I’m Harlow,” he said smoothly. “And that’s Rafael.” He pointed a gloved finger toward the silent one.
My chest tightened without warning, and I had to consciously force my gaze away. Back to Kiron… then to the other man who hadn’t spoken since they’d walked in. A nervousness settled over me, my grip tightening on my purse. I wasn’t sure who was the safest to look at .
Rafael stood slightly behind them, broad like Kiron but shorter. He looked Native American, with tribal-style tattoos tracing around his neck and up his clean-shaved chin, settling just beneath his full bottom lip. I wondered what they meant, but I thought it might be rude to ask.
His onyx hair fell past his shoulders—longer than mine—and his arms were as thick as my thighs. He looked like a pro wrestler. When his dark eyes met mine, they were steady. Kind.
My stomach traitorously flipped.
“Hi, Rafael. It’s nice to meet you.”
He smiled, dipping his chin slightly. My heart kicked hard against my ribs. Damn. He was handsome too.
What was in the water around here?
Maybe this was a ‘me problem’ . Maybe I just needed to get laid. Heat crept up my cheeks. I hoped none of them could sense the direction my mind was going.
Maybe, don’t say anything else stupid then, Sin.
“Don’t mind Rafe,” Harlow said, leaning in close enough that I caught the scent of tobacco and something sharp, almost citrusy. “Rafe’s the quiet one. Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t speak to you.”
Harlow brushed his fingers through a strand of my hair, the leather of his glove squeaking faintly. My breath caught at his nearness. I wanted to ask why he was wearing gloves, but the words got trapped in my throat.
“You didn’t tell me how delicious she is, Ki.” He glanced toward Kiron.
Wait. Kiron talked about me?
Something in my chest jumped. I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t. My mind spun.
Harlow locked eyes with me again. “You really are sin incarnate, aren’t you, darling? I can see why the big guy is so infatuated with you.”
Harlow called me darling .
The nickname made my stomach do that traitor thing again. I didn’t hate it as much as I should have. As much as I usually did. Which just pissed me off. I slapped his hand away from my hair before I could think twice. My palm smacked against his forearm.
“Don’t call me darling. I hate being called anything cutesy.”
Old habits die hard, right?
The room went silent. It felt like they were waiting for him to blow up. My sudden bravado evaporated. Men could get violent when they were angry. I knew that. I lifted my chin and braced myself, keeping my eyes locked on him even if my knees knocked together.
Harlow reached for me again. I flinched back, heart pounding, expecting a hit.
Logan would have. But instead, his fingers lingered on the strand of hair in front of my face, toying with it.
He seemed to like touching my hair. My stomach twisted with a mix of fear and…
something else I refused to acknowledge.
Harlow opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Petrelli cut him off.
“That’s enough, Harlow. All of you, take your seats.”
Kiron didn’t argue. Rafael moved first, already pulling out a chair.
But Harlow?
He didn’t move.
His gaze drifted over my shoulder, his jaw tight. I should have stepped away from him. Or pushed him away. But I didn’t do either. Slowly he looked back at me. His chin tilted down, bringing us closer to eye level.
“Who hurt you, darling?”
His thumb brushed lightly along my jaw.
I flinched. Again . And not because he was touching me—but because he saw through my facade.
My hands balled into fists at my sides, muscles taut. My eyes burned with frustrated tears I refused to shed .
I slowly shook my head.
He opened his mouth to say something else.
“ Now , Harlow,” Petrelli demanded, stopping him from pushing me further.
Harlow clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Don’t think this conversation is over, Sina. Just because my brother said so.”
Wait? Brother ?
“You will tell me who put that fear in your eyes.”
My jaw tightened.
I didn’t trust him. I didn’t even know him. He had no right to ask me about my past.
“Good luck with that,” I quipped.
His answering grin was feral. All teeth.
“I like a challenge.”
I lifted my chin in defiance.
Finally, he stepped back, releasing me. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until it rushed out in a shaky exhale. He seemed to do that to me a lot—put me so on edge that I forgot to breathe while waiting for something to happen.
Harlow slid into the chair to the left of Rafael, leaving only one open seat between him and Kiron.
Great.
It looked like I was going to be stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I snorted at my own stupid joke, but headed toward the seat anyway.