The library was the only room that felt like mine. Quiet. Still. Lined with books I’d actually read, not just shelved for optics. I collapsed into the leather armchair, the one corner of softness in a house full of hard edges. Winston leapt onto my lap, curled into a purring crescent of comfort against my chest.
His weight grounded me. Barely. I stared at the unlit fireplace, drink forgotten in my hand. And there he was again. That laugh. That sway. That impossible, maddening smile.
I squeezed my eyes shut. But it was too late. He’d cracked something open inside me. Something I’d buried so deep, even I didn’t know where to begin finding it again.
And God help me—I wanted to. But wanting was dangerous. Especially for someone like me, when the cost was everything.
CHAPTER 4
SIN
The parking lot of Brookhaven Ridge Country Club looked like the gods of generational wealth had vomited gold-plated entitlement across perfectly paved blacktop. A line of high-end cars shimmered under the morning sun—sleek Porsches, snow-white Beamers, a vintage Jaguar glinting like it had never seen a pothole or an unpaid speeding ticket. License plates read like family crests. Everyone here wassomeone.
Then there was my black ’69 Dodge Charger, parked at the edge of the lot like a pissed-off stray. Obsidian gloss paint, the low growl of a rebuilt engine that still smelled like fire, and a dent in the rear fender from a bar fight that wasn’t really my fault—depending on who you asked. She was beautiful in that “don’t fuck with me” kind of way. And she didn’t belong here. Neither did I. I hated everything this place stood for.
I killed the ignition and leaned back in the driver’s seat, dragging a hand down my face. Morning stubble abraded my palm, I screwed my eyes shut at the pristine brightness of the day as a thunder cloud settled over me. The building ahead rose like a mirage of control—white columns, manicured hedges, and an American flag that barely moved in the stillness. The mainarchway, framed in creeping ivy, sat like a judge, daring the unworthy to walk through.
Hello, that’s me!I snorted at the thought. People like me were most likely not permitted to use the front entrance. Too unsightly to be seen by the clientele.
I didn’t know what I’d expected, but this place felt like stepping into a movie where I didn’t belong. It reeked of imported espresso, golf cart privilege, and whispers in boardrooms where people decided the price of things they’d never touched. This wasn’t a job. It was enemy territory.
I was still psyching myself up when I heard the unmistakable crunch of gravel and the squeaky protest of a car that definitely did not cost six figures. A cloud of dust followed in its wake as it pulled up next to me, and the rattly engine cut out.
“You’re gonna get side-eyed by the valet just forexisting,” a voice called out, amused and unapologetic. I looked over, the corner of my lips tilting up.
She was leaning against a beat-up Fiat that had clearly seen some shit. Bright red lipstick. Big sunglasses. The kind of confidence that came from giving up on being liked. And I liked her immediately.
I lit a cigarette just to give my hands something to do and exhaled smoke toward the sky. “I’m sure the Charger would show ‘em a good time. Probably take out a couple Teslas for sport.”
She snorted, pulling out her own cigarette. “If your car gets keyed, I’ll swear it was the wind.”
“You new?” I asked, flicking ash from the tip.
“Unfortunately.” She grinned and stuck out her hand. “Thalia Duran. Server. Occasional bartender. Professional shit-stirrer.”
“Sinclair.Sin. Full-time mistake. Permanent disappointment.”
Her laugh was a cackle. “Knew it. You’ve got the face of a man who’s gonna say something wildly inappropriate in the staff meeting.”
“Please. I’ll offend everyone equally. Equal opportunity chaos.”
“Beautiful,” she said, pushing off her car and nodding toward the staff entrance tucked behind a flowering hedge. “Let’s go feed overpriced eggs to people who call their Labradoodles theirlegacy.”
“You two!” A sharp voice snapped, and our heads turned towards the disgruntled man in a black polo shirt and slacks striding towards us. “Staff parking is around the back.” He looked at us with disgust, my lips twitched at the disdain in his eyes. “Move it, now! You’re already late.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Late?”
“Yes. Your shift starts at eight a.m.” He pointed to his gold-plated watch and shook his head. “Now get moving. We have a staff meeting with the new manager in five minutes. And you still need to be dressed appropriately.”
He strode off like the stick up his ass was working its way up his throat.
“Fuck me,” Thalia muttered, crushing her half smoked cigarette into the gravel. “See you ‘round there.” She slipped into her Fiat, and it spat out a big plume of smoke as it choked to life.
“Fuck my life,” I ground out. Supple leather molded to my body as my engine roared to life, startling birds from the trees, and followed the Fiat at a crawl into the staff parking area.
“Ready to enter hell?”
“Sure. Good thing I like it hot.” I slammed my door shut and joined Thalia where she waited, face down, focused on her phone.
