Page 6 of Sin
Awareness of Mason’s hand against my back. Of the way his voice sounded when he said my name. Of the dark gray Tom Ford suit Opal is definitely collecting money over right now.
God.
This is bad.
“So,” Tate says casually, “when do you and Sin leave?”
I blink. “Leave?”
“For Napa.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
Tate frowns. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
“There’s a luxury branding conference in Napa next week. Sin goes every year.” His expression slowly shifts into amusement. “Guess who’s probably going with him now?”
Oh no. No, no, absolutely not.
“Tate,” I say slowly, “I need you to tell me your brother is not planning to trap me in wine country for a week.”
Tate’s grin turns positively evil. “Can’t do that, friend.”
I stare at him in horror.
He pats my shoulder sympathetically. “Thoughts and prayers, though.”
“Not helpful.”
His laughter follows me as I leave the room.
2
Laurel
Opal stops me the second I pass her desk.
“Good call on the color.”
I blink at her. “What?”
“Mr. Sinclair’s suit.” She proudly lifts a thick wad of cash like a trophy. “Dark gray. You just made me four hundred dollars.”
Despite myself, my mouth twitches. “That much?”
“People underestimate how predictable rich men are.” Opal beams. “Anyway, lunch is on me today.”
Normally I’d tease her about running an underground casino out of the marketing department. But my brain is still stuck in that conference room.
On Mason’s eyes locked on mine.
On his hand against my back.
On the fact that he inserted himself into my project for reasons no one—including his own brothers—seems to understand.
And then there’s the conference in a week. A full week trapped with Mason Sinclair while pretending I don’t notice things like the way his suits stretch across his shoulders or how his voice sounds rougher when he’s irritated. Fantastic. Truly fantastic.
