Page 2 of My Kind of Sin
“A woman with good taste.” He leaned forward as if to speak into my ear, though his focus was fixed solely on the valley between my breasts.Ugh. Men are pigs, I thought, even as I acknowledged the irony. “You’re not here alone, are you? It would be a crime for a woman as beautiful as you to be drinking alone.”
Shrugging as though embarrassed, I coaxed a little blush to my cheeks. “I was actually supposed to meet a blind date here tonight, but it seems I’ve been stood up. I guess I’m not his type.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he said, though he couldn’t dampen the gleam of interest in his eye. I could practically hear him celebrating his own good fortune. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Rue,” I purred demurely, batting my long eyelashes.
“What a lovely name. My name’s Theo.” He offered his hand to shake, but when he took my hand, he tilted it so he could place a kisson the back of it. I fought the shudder of revulsion that went through me, forcing my smile wider instead.
I let the man buy me three more drinks, let him believe I was slowly getting drunk. I angled my body into his, set my hand on his thigh. And then I acted surprised when he suggested, “Why don’t we get out of here? There’s a hotel right next door.”
Gasping a little, I bit my lip coyly. “I don’t even know you,” I whispered.
“What do you need to know except that I’ll make you feel good?” He trailed his fingers up my bare arm, then across my clavicle, dipping lower.
“Well…” I murmured, leaning close enough that no one else could hear my next words. “It would be nice to know that you’re married, don’t you think?”
Theo went rigid, then forced a laugh. “What are you… I’m not…”
“Victoria sends her regards,” I said, my voice suddenly sharp and cold as ice, as I plucked an envelope from my purse and slapped it onto his chest. “Divorce papers. And since you’re in breach of your prenuptial agreement, don’t even think about amending the terms. She’s being more than fair for a cheating piece of shit like you.”
Sneering, I shoved off the stool and stalked across the bar floor toward the exit, not a single drunken wobble on my four-inch heels. Cheaters were the worst kind of scum. If you weren’t satisfied with your relationship, then grow some balls and leave so your partner could have a chance at being happy with someone else.
In the packed club, with the crowd closing in on all sides, the lighting dim, nobody noticed when my heels morphed into boots, my dress rippling into blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. My frame filled out, perky breasts flattening into a broad, muscular chest, my long hair shortening until it was curling around my ear, no longer blond buta vibrant copper, my formerly unblemished skin now scattered with freckles and a week-old beard. By the time I stepped outside into the cool spring night, I was a whole new man—literally.
I blew out a long breath, shaking off the illusion. Women did not get enough credit for all the shit they put up with. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my client, Victoria Van Rook, heiress to the Van Rook tech fortune, telling her the job was done. She’d hired me to prove her husband’s infidelity. I suspected she would’ve divorced him either way, but she wasn’t interested in giving the man a penny more of her wealth than she had to.
She sent back a champagne-glass emoji, then deposited a generous tip into my account. “Cheers,” I said with a grin, lifting an imaginary glass to the woman.
Before I could tuck my phone back in my pocket, it buzzed with an incoming call. When I saw the name on the call display, I was tempted to ignore it, but the god tended to be a persistent asshole. He would just keep calling.
“Ruadan,” he said sharply when I answered the call. “It’s been a while.”
“What do you want, Lagamal?” I said with a sigh. “I’m busy.”
“You’re not busy, you just finished a case. You’ve got time.” I didn’t ask how he knew that. The man was a god of the underworld, in charge of judging their souls—AKA the city’s district attorney. “I’ve got a job for you. Meet me for breakfast.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I hung up the phone without saying goodbye. When the DA had a job for the god of spies, it spelled bad news… for all of us.
I got to Sizzle & Sip Brunch Lounge first and grabbed a table in a back corner, away from prying eyes and close to the back exit, just in case. Some habits were hard to break, but then again, I was the gods’ spy for a reason. I liked the restaurant because I knew the owner, and I trusted his judgment not to hire unreliable staff. Whatever it was Lagamal wanted from me, it couldn’t be good, and the information in the wrong hands might be worth a pretty penny.
While technically we both worked on the same side of the law, our paths rarely crossed. As a DA, Mal Asher was ruthless, but in his less-known persona as a judge of the underworld, Lagamal was even worse. He was notorious for having no mercy. He saw the world in black and white, right and wrong, while my own ethics were in shades of gray, with plenty of wiggle room. If someone stole a loaf of bread because they were starving, that was forgivable in my eyes. Lagamal, however, was just as likely to condemn a soul for any infraction.
I’d just ordered us two cups of coffee when the man entered the restaurant. Even at 7am, he was dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit, custom-tailored to his frame, wide-shouldered with a trim waist. Catching sight of me, he stalked across the restaurant as if it were the courtroom, focused and unbending, his patent black shoes clicking on the tiles. Several heads turned to watch him go by, their expressions ranging from attraction to outright fear. He was a polarizing kind of guy. Mal’s stride faltered only once, when a man slipped into the restaurant behind him with a camera, doing a shit job of being discreet.
“Friend of yours?” I asked, rising from my chair to shake his hand.
His nostrils flared briefly as he huffed a frustrated breath. “Ever sinceLife and Stylepublished that article aboutme—”
“Valleywood’s hottest bachelor, you mean?” I teased, taking great pleasure in how much he seemed to despise the prestigious role.
He let out a low growl. “Yes, well, it has gotten me a fair amount of unwanted attention from persistent paparazzi, looking for a scoop. I hope you’re prepared for the rumors of us dating.”
I laughed loudly. “As if anyone would believe you would tie yourself to someone like me,” I said, gesturing to my general unkemptness.
Lagamal paused briefly and looked at me, his features cut sharply, onyx eyes softening slightly as he said, “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.” He pulled out his chair and sat stiffly, posture ramrod straight in comparison to my easy slouch as I sat across from him.
“Why wouldn’t I? You know I’m a sucker for a good mystery. What have you got for me?” I leaned back in my chair, combing my fingers through my unruly red hair. I always felt like a bit of a slob around Lagamal, without a hair out of place. Meanwhile, I hadn’t even bothered to shave in over a week.
