Chapter 12
TWELVE
I ’ve spent the majority of the morning completely avoiding Sin. Which isn’t hard, considering he’s been cooped up in his ridiculous, oversized office.
It’s not really ridiculous at all; it's classic and masculine and smells like him.
I would live in it.
I’m just annoyed with him.
What did he mean by I’m going to ruin you?
I didn’t even sleep last night after he left. I wrapped my arms around Axle and snuggled him, overthinking everything. At least I can trust the dog. He’s sporting a brand-new leather collar, smooth and not made of cold metal. I told Sin while we were shopping last night that I hid the other one, now Axle has something from Tiffany’s too.
Currently, I’m in the garden, enjoying the flowers while seated on a shiny white bench, all the while trying not to bother Sin .
Bria left early this morning to go shopping. She informed me that we’re having a family dinner tonight.
It reminded me of my life before, the one that seems so far away. The one that was just there and then gone in an instant. For the better, of course. I don’t blame the sisters for their strictness; they had to keep an ever-revolving house of girls in check, but it is nice to wake up and not have a million things to do. It’s like a vacation, one that doesn’t have to end.
I should have told Bria what happened last night. I don’t know her well, if at all, but I can imagine she would have gone to scream at Sin, so I kept my mouth shut.
I’m trying to get the courage to do just that.
This seems like one of those pivotal moments, one where I need to take a stand for myself. How will Sin react to someone, besides Bria, picking an argument with him?
Will he kick me out, get in my face? Only time will tell.
A ray of sunlight pours from the sky onto the stone pathway, illuminating Sin in a golden hue as he strolls toward me. He resembles a supermodel gracing the cover of one of the magazines I spotted in Bria’s room.
I would rather drown myself in the sparkling fountain than deal with him right now.
That may sound immature, especially when I’m looking for answers, but I don’t care. I’m done with the back and forth, and I don't have the mental capacity to have this conversation right now. I simply stand up, walk towards him, and then past him.
“Magnolia?” Sin says quietly, a hint of venom on his tongue. I touch my magnolia necklace for comfort, and although he bought it, it’s the first meaningful thing that’s ever been mine.
“I’m going out,” I respond as I walk away.
He laughs; I can’t see him, but I imagine he’s crossing his arms right about now. “Where?” he asks.
When I don’t respond, he runs up beside me. No, not him. A young guy, wearing all black street clothes. I take a look back at Sin, and he’s tilting his head, grinning. “Have fun!” He shouts as I march out of the back gate and onto the sidewalk.
“I’m Maxwell, but everyone calls me Max.” The man extends his hand, and while I’m mad at Sin, that’s no reason to be rude. I return his handshake and smile at him.
“Magnolia.”
He nods. “I know,” he slips into step beside me as we walk down the city streets. “Magnolia Finley, age eighteen. Raised by nuns at Saint Mary’s Orphanage. Parents deceased, one living distant cousin in California, Margo Finley, aged fifty-two. No siblings.”
I find it amusing yet somewhat sorrowful that Magnolia Finley can be summed up in so few words. It’s just that, nothing more. When I sifted through my orphanage documents, I was too distraught to notice the name of my only living relative. My parents are gone, and it’s likely she doesn’t even know I exist.
Maybe searching for her will help me understand why my parents went down the road they did. “Why and how do you know all this?"
“I,”—he does a little bow—“am your personal detail. A knight in shining armor, if you will. ”
A laugh escapes me, and just like that, my anger towards Sin is floating away the farther I get from that ridiculously infuriating handsome man and his stupid brick house.
“Where are we going?” Max asks, his emerald eyes shining in the sunlight.
“Nowhere,” I say with a disinterested shrug.
He nods. “Sounds good to me.”
I turn to cross the road and am halted by Max’s arm. He looks carefully down both sides of the street before allowing me to go. “Tell me your story.” I wave my hand in a circle. “Like you told me mine.”
He smiles, displaying a crooked grin with dimples. There's a boyish charm about him that Sin could never hope to convey.
You could tell he lost that side of him long ago.
“Not much to tell.” He shrugs. “Born and raised in Queens, my parents are...” He swipes his finger across his neck, and I nod in understanding.
“So, Sin is your boss, correct?” I ask.
He nods in affirmation. “Yes.”
I think of therapy. An older woman with crinkles around her green eyes used to come in once a year to evaluate our mental well-being. She always said that whatever I told her was confidential.
There was never anything to tell of course, as I was living a secluded life with a bunch of women who wanted to keep us busy with housework. Nothing too scandalous there.
“Will you tell him things I say?” I press.
“No. ”
I want to believe him because I really need to vent. “Seriously, I need to know.”
“Unless you’re in danger, Sin doesn’t have anything to know.” He shrugs.
I allow him to take my arm as we cross yet another street, getting used to not needing any situational awareness. “He's incredibly frustrating!”
Once we’re safely on the other side, Max throws his head back and lets out a deep, throaty laugh. “He is a bit much, isn’t he?”
“Yes!” I smile. “How did you meet him?”
Max tilts his head. “I was on a job.” He pauses.
“What job?”
He throws his hands up as we pass a coffee shop. “We’re stopping here.”
Max's narrowed eyes scan the room as he guides me through to the counter.
“Just a job.” He grins, then orders two brown butter lattes and pays.
We sit beside an old wooden bookshelf near the back exit, one battered and worn from years of use. Max situates himself facing the quiet, near-empty seating area, and I face him.
“I think we’re okay,” I chuckle, panning my hand around the empty chairs.
He relaxes just a little. “You can never be too sure.”
Everyone tied to Sin is nothing but paranoid. “Why are all of you like this? Looking over your shoulder? It gives me anxiety." I sip my latte, savoring the flavor. It’s slightly salty, very sweet, and just the right amount of warmth .
“It’s good, right?” He smirks.
I nod. “Delicious. I usually go for black.” The powdered creamer we had at Saint Mary’s was as bad as it sounds. I peer around, looking at nothing in particular.
Max leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “So, Sin is bothering you, I take it?”
I give a quick nod. “I have no idea why I’m here.”
“Do any of us?” He asks himself this more than me. “What I will say is that Sin doesn’t even eat a sandwich without intention, so if you’re here it’s because he’s taken a liking to you. He keeps his circle close, extremely close.”
We sit in silence for a moment, and I let the information simmer.
“If you didn’t have plans, I know somewhere pretty cool to take out frustration,” he offers.
My eyes widen, wondering if he’s going to invite me to go to one of his ‘jobs’ with him. “What do you have in mind?”
The room has an underground, concrete feel to it. Max and I are dressed in matching white jumpsuits. Honestly, this isn’t quite where I thought I’d find myself today. “We look like painters!" I chuckle, already feeling the warmth building up beneath the jumpsuit that covers me from head to toe.
My hands are snugly wrapped in oversized gloves, and the cherry on top of my new style is a pair of safety goggles perched on my nose.
When we first walked through the doors of Dave’ s destruction zone, a man with one eye approached us. It was Dave, and as he went through the rules of our excursion, I wondered if all of the tossing of glass is what made him lose that left eye of his.
“I don’t know about this,” I say quietly as Dave shuts the door and tells us to have a ‘destructive time.’
Max leans in close, handing me a white plate. “I know Dave can be a lot.” He chuckles. “But I promise you, this will be fun. Just imagine that wall right there,”—he points forward—“is Sin’s fac?—”
Before he can finish his sentence, I let out a yell as I hurl the plate like a frisbee towards the chipped gray, concrete wall. It shatters upon impact. A small weight lifts from my shoulders. I give Max a mischievous look before making my way to the table at the other end of the room.
There are stacks of plates along with various ‘destructive devices’ as the sign above them states. Golf clubs, bats, softballs. I decide to grab a long metal rod. It’s heavy, but I’m not turning back now; Max opts for the bat.
“Crowbar, nice choice.” He nods approvingly.
He steps past the yellow caution tape, stacking plates and cups in various locations.
“Have at it,” he smiles, stepping behind the yellow line next to me.
I lift up the crowbar and begin to smash everything in sight, completely losing myself in the way ceramic and glass shatter around me. Breaking from a perfect form into hundreds of tiny little pieces.
Thinking of Bria’s protectiveness towards me at the boutique the other day, I bet she would love this .
I also take delight in knowing I won’t have to clean any of it up. Max takes his turn next, gently stacking a new set of plates and cups. While I could easily go cause some fun chaos on the right side of the wall, where a pair of shiny metal drumsticks rests beside the vertical drums that I imagine you slap, I choose instead to watch Max with a grin.
The way that even through the ugly jumpsuit I can make out his lean muscle’s underneath. How he swings the bat with a force that could crack someone’s skull in an instant. Even so, he seems gentle, so different than Sin... but witnessing this tells me he may be just as dangerous.
The air is on full blast, but I’m getting hot. I reach up to remove my safety glasses and just as I do, a thick chunk of ceramic comes at me full force.
I cover my face, terrified I’ve lost an eye like Dave. Max is in front of me in a millisecond, cupping my hands. “Let me see, Magnolia.”
A tear escapes as he examines my face, nodding when he sees I’m safe. “Just a small cut beneath your right eye. Why did you remove your glasses?”
“I got hot,” I say, avoiding a glance at my hand to keep from seeing the blood.
“I’m dead.” Max inhales, looking a little nervous. Whether that be from me getting hurt or fear of when Sin sees me being hurt, I'm unsure. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Aside from the cut on my face, it was an uneventful day. Dave had a large first aid kit and I was cleaned and bandaged quickly, afterwards, we grabbed a bite to eat and then strolled the city until the late afternoon.
The closer we get to Sin’s, the more my feet ache from all of the walking we did. Max is steadily keeping my slow stride, which I’m thankful for. I need to get into better shape.
Inside, it’s quiet. Max follows me into the kitchen, where I catch sight of Sin and quickly turn my head. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts but nothing else. Sweat gleams from his tanned skin.
He’s on me in seconds, cupping my face and forcing me to peer upward, my neck strains to look up a literal foot above me to his worried face. “What the fuck happened?” he sneers at Max.
Sin’s black hair is wet with sweat, and you would imagine after such a strenuous workout that he would smell bad, but he doesn’t. Damn him, he smells amazing.
“We went to Dave’s.” Max shrugs.
In a moment, fast as lightning, Sin slowly releases me and charges at Max, pinning him against the wall.
If I thought Max was strong at Dave’s, I wouldn’t want to see Sin smashing anything. His muscles are tense, and his breathing grows wild. He towers over Max in every way possible.
“You’re supposed to fucking protect her,” Sin growls, bulging veins wrapping his neck like fingers. “No harm is to come to her. That is your only fucking reason to breathe. If you cannot do your fucking job, I will end you and find another replacement."
Max doesn’t talk back, he doesn’t argue. He almost seems a little frightened by the intensity of Sin’s stare. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry; it won't happen again.”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” I start, but Max shakes his head.
“Sin is right, it was too risky.”
The moment Sin's eyes gaze at me again, the violent rage that seeps behind his ghost eyes melts. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m okay.” I smile, looking at Max. “Thank you for today. It was really nice.”
This only seems to irritate Sin more. He narrows his harsh gaze at Max but directs his words at me, “Go upstairs. I’ve laid out your outfit. Dinner is in two hours.”
“You know,” I say, walking away, “for eighteen years I’ve been okay. You don’t have to freak out about a cut.”
Sin approaches, his hand on my shoulder. The strong aroma of amber and lime overwhelms my senses, leaving me lightheaded. “That was before you were with me.”
With me.
My knees nearly buckle upon hearing those words leave his lips. “Then why take me from somewhere safe?” I counter, searching for a morsel of truth.
His voice lowers, wanting this conversation to stay between us. “You were leaving anyways, going to some halfway house that I’m sure wouldn’t have been as safe as your little countryside castle. I’m done with this conversation. Go upstairs.”
I want to protest, simply because he’s telling me what to do, but then he gently rubs one knuckle down my face from brow to chin and I melt again, suddenly remembering how tired I am from the day.
“Please, Mags.”
As I head up the stairs alone, a blanket of comfort swallows me whole.
I sink into the cloud that is my mattress, my feet stretching from the comfort of removing my shoes. Axle barrels in, hopping up beside me.
Sin was so protective just now, and it made me feel safe. Although Max did absolutely nothing wrong, the fact that a simple cut could make Sin act the way he did tells me something.
He cares about me.
As I drift off for a quick nap before dinner, memories of last night flood back to when Sin quietly entered my room, thinking I was asleep.
I will ruin you.