“I don’t know what I’m doing.” I took a long sip of my drink, my throat burning. “I don’t care if he’s complicated,” I said finally. “I just...”
“Yes, you do.” She leaned in, all fierce eyes and sharp edges. “You’re falling for someone who will cut you to pieces if you’re not careful.”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you?” She studied me. “Because I’ve seen him destroy himself over doing therightthing. You don’t want to be collateral damage in his moral crisis.”
I said nothing.
She sighed. “Just… don’t make him your lifeboat, Sin. He’s drowning, too.”
And I had no idea how to stop us both from going under.
“Anyway.” She sipped her two-for-one cocktail. “I believe I promised you my story.”
I huffed a laugh. “Great topic change. Yay, story time.” I took another swig of my drink as she launched into a monologue that distracted me from my fucked up life.
CHAPTER 7
THEO
Today had been an absolute disaster.
Fucking Elias Ballantyne.
I’d spent the last hour alone in my office after the club had cleared out, staring at my phone like it was a live grenade. Any second now, it would ring. And on the other end, my father—disappointed, furious, controlled as ever—would let me know just how badly I’d screwed things up.
Not because Elias Ballantyne had put his hands on a member of staff. No. But becauseIhad stopped him.
Because I’d intervened in a way that, in my father’s eyes, didn’t look like strength—it looked like weakness. Like sentiment. And that’s the one thing he couldn’t abide by.
But the call never came.
The ensuing silence was worse. It was suffocating.
The phone sat there, silently on my desk. Cold. Judgmental. And I sat opposite it, like a prisoner waiting for the verdict. My jaw ached from being clenched so tightly. My neck burned. My thoughts clawed at the inside of my skull, a storm I couldn’t outrun.
I’d done the right thing. IknewI had.
But all I could hear was my father’s voice in my head:“Don’t involve yourself in the lives of staff. Don’t lose control. Don’t forget what you’re here to protect.”And I had. I’d lost control—in front of Elias, in front of every single person in the club. Worst of all, in front ofhim.
God, Sinclair. Even now, hours later, I could still feel the heat of his body against mine, the softness of his lips, the way they’d begged me to kiss him. But I couldn’t because I knew I’d fall apart for him.
My walls would have come crashing down, and my life would have imploded. But just for a moment, I’d needed it more than I needed air to breathe. I just wanted a moment to taste what it might feel like to want something for myself.
I’d never let myself do that before and I couldn’t now, especially when the stakes were this high. I had to lock down every errant desire no matter how hot it burned.
I’d always followed the rules. Always dressed the part. Spoken the part. Been the golden son in the golden cage. I wore my legacy like a perfectly tailored suit and told myself it was enough.
But it wasn’t. Not anymore. Because when Sinclair looked at me, I didn’t feel like an Astor.
I felt like a man.
A man who was starving.
A man who wanted.
And that terrified me more than anything my father could ever say or do.
