Page 137 of Two Sides of Sin

“Julian?” Sages soft, concerned voice cut through the roaring static in my ears. “What’s wrong?”

I instantly slammed the phone face down onto the table, my jaw locking so tight my teeth threatened to crack.

“Nothing,” I ground out, my voice sounding hollow and foreign to my own ears. I forced myself to take a slow, shallow breath, desperately trying to throw her off. I couldn’t ruin the evening. I couldn’t tell her. “It’s work stuff. A complication with my discharge paperwork.”

I had to physically lock every single muscle in my body to stop myself from flipping the heavy, candlelit table right there in the middle of the crowded five-star restaurant. I felt physically sick to my stomach.

But beneath the blinding, feral rage was a crushing, suffocating wave of guilt.

I didn’t keep her safe. The thought echoed mockingly in my skull. I had her locked away on a private mountain estate, under my own roof, and he had still violated her. He had still hurt her. Did I even deserve to have her in my life? How could I possibly ask her to marry me when my very existence was a magnet for the man tearing her apart?

Sage stared at me, her concerned eyes scanning my rigid posture. She was incredibly perceptive, I knew she didn’t fully buy the excuse. But, sensing the volatile agitation rolling off me in waves, she didn’t push the issue.

She offered a small, hesitant nod. “Okay. I’m going to use the bathroom. I have to pee.”

She slid out of the velvet booth, her black dress sweeping elegantly around her legs, and walked away towards the back of the restaurant.

The instant she disappeared from view, the dam broke.

“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath, a sound of pure agony leaving my body.

I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the table, and buried my trembling hands deep into my hair, gripping the roots tight enough to hurt. The urge for carnage was boiling in my veins, blinding and feral. If Cain had been standing in front of me right now, I would have killed him. I would have ripped his head off with my bare hands.

Chapter 70

Cain

Watching my brother fall apart from across the dining room was, without a doubt, the most exquisite delicacy I had tasted in a long time.

I sat comfortably in the shadowed, velvet alcove of my hidden booth, nursing a glass of bourbon as I watched the heartbreak unfold. The faint, blue glow of the phone screen illuminated the exact second Julian’s heart shattered. I could practically feel the feral, suffocating anger radiating off his massive frame from all the way across the restaurant. The way his face dropped, the way the colour drained from his skin as he realised exactly what he was watching… it was an absolute masterpiece.

Perfect cinema.

But watching them together this evening had ignited a dark, starving fire in my own chest. The prize had never looked more enticing. The way she looked at him over the candlelight, the gentle way she touched his hand, the unguarded devotion in her eyes—it was the one thing I had chased for lifetimes, but had never been able to fully grasp. I could force her obedience, I could break her body, but I had never been able to fully command her genuine affection.

So, I had stolen it in the dark under false pretences. Did I feel an ounce of guilt as I watched Julian bury his face in his trembling hands? Absolutely not. Guilt was a human weakness, and it was out of my character.

Sage stood up from the booth, her beautiful black dress sweeping the floor as she walked towards the back of the restaurant.

I watched the way the silk clung to the curve of her hips, my jaw tightening as a pulse of undiluted possession thrashed in my veins. My mind was a chaotic, dark storm, torn between the visceral urge to rip out the eyes of every man in the room who dared to look at her, or to simply rip the dress off her body myself. I wanted to shield her from their gazes and simultaneously expose her to only mine—to destroy the beauty they were all trying to steal with their eyes.

Julian didn’t even look up. He was too consumed by the agonising shame of the video.

I set my bourbon down on the table, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored suit, and slipped seamlessly out of the booth.

I moved through the crowded restaurant like a ghost unnoticed, and followed her into the narrow, dimly lit hallway. I pushed the heavy oak door to the women’s restroom open and stepped inside, the lock clicking softly into place behind me. The room was a sprawling expanse of cold marble and gold framed mirrors. It was empty, save for the single occupied stall at the very end.

I stood in front of the door, completely silent, a dark, wicked smile curling my lips.

I heard the rush of water as the toilet flushed. The latch clicked, and the stall door swung inward.

The second she stepped out, I lunged.

I grabbed her by the throat and shoved her back. Sage let out a startled gasp as her spine slammed hard into the tiled wall of the stall. Before she could even draw breath to scream for help, I clamped my hand ruthlessly over her mouth, pinning her head against the cold tile.

She thrashed wildly, her startled eyes wide with sheer terror as she looked at her attacker.

Her frantic struggles faltered. Shock, followed instantly by a dizzying, terrified confusion, washed over her delicate features as her eyes rapidly scanned my face.