“I’m fine, it just took me by surprise.” She sniffled some more. “I never thought he’d fall for anyone,” she sobbed and fell into her friend’s arms.
Kyan gripped my waist and cleared his throat.
Both of them whipped around.
“Kyan,” the taller one gasped, her thin nose wrinkling. “Sorry, Mr. Greymont, I was just telling her about what we were assigned to do for the Auction.”
Pink hair turned her head to the side, choking on a sob.
“You’ll do fantastic work on the floor.” He guided me past, and the woman kept her smile fixed on her lips.
“Oh, Mr. Greymont!” she exclaimed. He slowed so we were beside her. “Um. Mr. Sin-Sinclair Greymont is wasted on the main floor.”
“Thank you for the heads up, Candace,” he murmured and tugged me away. “Will you tell him we’re all set to go?”
“Sure,” I mumbled, slipping away from him. I couldn’t help but be a bit leery after hearing the two women.
I went down the slight ramp and headed for the bar. Sinclair leaned forward, his sleeves rolled back to his elbows, displaying the smoke and candle tattoo.
He drank down another as I stepped onto the main floor, heading directly for him. More and more workers filled the area, cleaning up the mess. He was too busy drowning his sorrows that he didn’t see me approach.
“Sinclair, slow down,” I chastised.
He lowered the bottle, peering at me through his glazed gaze, and then his eyes widened along with a smile.
“My sweets, my beautiful sweets,” he crooned. Suddenly, the wide smile dropped, as did his hand from my face. “Why do you refuse to understand how I love you . . .” He reclined a bit and cupped his dick. “And my cock is yours, you damn woman.” He bared his teeth as he said it, getting closer to my face. The looming threat reminded me of our first days together. My heart pounded in my ears with the rush of anger.
I slapped him across the face, hard enough to make his head jerk to the side.
He didn’t react; his face remained turned to the side, frozen.
Everyone around us gasped, but my attention stayed on him. “What’s your problem?”
“Everything,” he murmured. He stood and grabbed a full bottle from the other side of the bar, reaching over the empty tequila.
It took me a moment to turn around, but it was in time to watch Elias enter.
“You’re being an ass,” Elias snapped at Sinclair, who scoffed.
“I’ll be in the truck.” He tipped one of the bottles at Elias and left.
“He’s all drama when he drinks,” Kyan murmured. I jumped, having not noticed him walk over to me. “Don’t listen to him.”
I nodded absently. It was a peek into Sinclair’s pain. I was hurting him . . .
“Kyan,where did you put the fucking alcohol?” Sinclair’s voice boomed through the halls. There was a response, further away and more muffled. “You bloody twat,” he slurred, yet it sounded so close.
The entire drive, Sinclair lay back on the seat, gulping down most of the bottle of tequila. He must have finished the rest within the forty-five minutes since we’d arrived.
“Alas, alas,” Sinclair crooned, waving his arm out in a flourish.
The heavy scent of alcohol accompanied his arrival outside my room.
He was singing a BellRose song. Suddenly, he stopped, eyes wide on me, a gasp leaving his lips as if he wasn’t the one who’d walked into my bedroom.
“My precious Scent Match,” he whispered, striding over and dropping to his knees. He clasped my hand, bringing the back of it to his cheek. “I love you. Desperately.”
He swayed and fell to the side, temple smacking the rug.
