Page 5 of Sin

Chairs scrape against the floor as executives gather tablets and laptops. Conversations slowly restart, though several people throw curious looks my way on their way out. Opal outright grins at me like she just watched the season finale of her favorite reality show. Traitor.

I stay rooted in place until the room empties entirely. The second the last person disappears into the hallway, I round the conference table and stop in front of Tate.

“What in the hell was that?”

Tate laughs immediately which is completely unhelpful. “No idea, but I’ll admit it was entertaining as hell.”

I plant both hands on the table and lean forward. “Why does he want to be involved? He’s never involved.” I narrow my eyes. “Am I in trouble?”

That only makes Tate laugh harder.

“Laurel.” He shakes his head. “Sin says he wants to work one-on-one with you, and your first thought is that you’re being punished?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

“I’m serious.” I straighten. “Your brother looked at my presentation like he was deciding whether to fire me or throw me out a window.”

“That’s just his face.”

“That’s unfortunate for everyone.”

Tate grins. “Listen, if Sin hated your idea, he would’ve killed it immediately. Trust me. The fact that he approved the next stage at all means he sees potential.”

“Then why insert himself into the process?”

Tate studies me for a second too long before saying carefully, “Because something about this caught his attention.”

I cross my arms. “That sounds ominous.”

“It probably is.”

“Tate.”

He holds up both hands innocently. “I’m not messing with you. Sin doesn’t waste time on projects he doesn’t care about. If he’s personally stepping in, it means he believes this line could be huge.”

“That doesn’t explain the staring.”

Tate’s mouth twitches. “The staring?”

“He stared at me the entire meeting.”

“That must’ve been awful for you.”

I glare at him. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He leans back against the table. “You argued with Sin in front of the entire executive board and lived to tell the tale. That alone deserves a plaque.”

“I didn’t argue.”

“Laurel.”

“Fine. I aggressively communicated.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

I groan softly and drag a hand down my face. The adrenaline from the meeting is fading now, leaving exhaustion behind. Along with something significantly more dangerous. Awareness.