Page 55 of Sin

“With who?”

Then Tate points vaguely at Mason. “Him.”

My entire body goes still.

“No.”

Tate winces. “See, that’s what I thought you’d say.”

I look at Mason. “No.”

His gaze holds mine. “It’s not a request.”

I laugh once. “That is a very brave thing to say to a woman sitting beside a butter knife.”

Tate picks up the butter knife and moves it to his side of the table.

“Traitor,” I tell him. I turn back to Mason. “Why are you going?”

“Because Pride will be ready for private retailer previews by then.”

“Pride,” I repeat.

His mouth almost curves.

“And because Lust is already generating international interest,” he says.

“But why do I have to go? Why can’t Tate go?”

Tate grimaces. “I was supposed to.”

“Great. Go.”

“I can’t.”

The thing is, I really believe him. He’d go if he could.

I look at Mason again. “Send Jack.”

“No.”

The answer is too quick. My eyes narrow, and Mason says nothing.

“Oh my god,” I say. “This is because of Jack?”

“This is because you’re the lead designer,” Mason says. “And I’m overseeing the line.”

“Overseeing,” I repeat.

“Yes.”

“In Amsterdam.”

“Yes.”

“Alone.”

His jaw tightens.