Page 21 of Sin

“Nobody wants Blaze.”

That earns the smallest laugh out of me.

Tate smiles. “But you'll survive.”

“You’re right.” I stand. “Okay, I’m off to meet Jack for lunch. You’re invited, too, of course.”

He shakes his head. “I have work to do.”

Right. Because his brother dumped all his work on him at the last minute.

“See you later.”

As I leave his office a few minutes later, something feels off. Mason Sinclair doesn't disappear. He doesn't walk away from projects. He certainly doesn't volunteer to oversee something personally and then vanish less than a day later. The whole thing feels wrong. And for reasons I absolutely refuse to examine too closely... I'm disappointed I won’t be working with him.

I meet Jack in the cafeteria and sit in the empty seat across from him.

“Well?”

“Change of plans. Mr. Sinclair has taken a leave of absence, so we won’t have to worry about him vetoing all of our ideas.”

Jack lifts his water glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

I smile, but I still can’t help but wonder what is going on with Mason.

5

Laurel

** Two months later **

“Oh my god. Yes. Right there. That’s it.”

The words come out too loud and too close to something they absolutely are not. I yank my hand away from the suction device a second before someone clears their throat behind me.

My entire body freezes.

“Am I interrupting?”

Jack’s head snaps up. My lips part as I stare at him, and for one humiliating second, we just look at each other across the conference table like we’ve been caught doing something far worse than product testing.

Which, technically, we haven’t. Not exactly. We’re working late. That’s all.

Working late at eleven o’clock on a Friday night, with two empty wine bottles between us, prototype parts scattered across the table, notes scribbled in my messy handwriting, and my blouse hanging over the back of a chair because, at some point, the room had gotten too warm.

Which means I’m standing here in my pencil skirt and a black lace bralette, my skin flushed from wine, frustration, and the sudden awareness that the man behind me has gone completely silent.

Slowly, I turn.

Mason stands in the doorway. He looks like the devil himself has come to collect on a debt I don’t remember making. His gaze lands on my face first. Then drops. Not quickly enough to be polite and definitely not slowly enough to be accidental. It moves over my bare shoulders, the swell of lace at my chest, the chunky strip of skin between my bralette and skirt. By the time his eyes return to mine, heat has climbed my throat and turned my pulse into something wild and stupid.

Jack recovers first.

“No, sir,” he says, voice tight. “Ms. Cross and I were just testing a new prototype for Lust.”

Mason doesn’t look at him.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night on a Friday.” His voice is calm. “Surely you have better things to do.”