Saint and Sinners Paperback Bundle

Sneak Peek

“You’re not seriously going to wear that, are you?”

I looked down at my purple one-shoulder top and jeans. “What’s wrong with it? You ordered me to show skin and I am.”

Gianna threw herself on my bed. “You gave me one shoulder. You’re going to have to do better than that. I want both shoulders. Cleavage. Thighs. And a little bit of ass if you’re feeling generous.”

“I’m not,” I deadpanned.

She laughed. “Then just the shoulder, boobs, and thighs, please.”

Rolling my eyes, I stuck my head back in my closet, searching for my rare and well-hidden sexy clothes.

It was amazing the dresses could hide. My closet was so small, I could barely shove myself inside. The same could be said for my room in general.

Five strides brought you from one end of the room to the other. I squeezed in a twin bed. A dresser with a television on top, and all the paintings and photographs I could fit on the walls. Somehow all of it just made the space smaller.

“What kind of job is this?”

“I told you, Addy. We’re servers.” Gianna turned the television on low. “We carry a tray of canapés around in a tight dress and walk away with five hundreds at the end of the night. I couldn’t think of an easier way to make money than if I got paid to flick my bean.”

I heaved a sigh. “Why do you say these things to me? You know I’m an innocent, delicate flower.”

Her guffaw was followed by a soft missile striking my back. “You’re innocent like I’m a virgin.”

“Seriously,” I said, abandoning my clothes. I picked my pillow off the floor and threw it, and myself, down next to her. “If we’re just passing out the cheese and crackers, why are boobs, thighs, and skin required?”

“Kayla said we have to dress up. That’s all I know.” She nudged my shoulder. “I know you need the money. Salvatore’s been cutting shifts on you, or we wouldn’t be lying here chatting.”

I groaned. “Ryan had me covering for him so often, I was racking up too much overtime pay. Salvatore put a quick stop to that. Striking off two of my regular shifts. I’m barely part-time now.”

“Cheap ass,” she spat. “Why haven’t you quit that job? With your skills, you could work for any restaurant in the city.”

 “Yes, but those restaurants won’t be two blocks from the home or have Ryan Sinclair in the kitchen. The man’s earned three Michelin stars,” I said. “Learning to cook from him is like being taught to swim by Michael Phelps. Did I tell you he invented a new way of making aspic? What you do is—”

Gianna’s head fell back. A loud snore ripped from her body.

“Jerk.” It was my turn to smash her with a pillow. “Get out.”

“Nope,” she said, sienna eyes dancing. “Not until you slut up, my friend.”

Gianna was already dressed in a sleeveless sequin bodycon dress that looked amazing on her. Her mane of wavy locks was piled on top of her head in an effortless bun, and just a swipe of glittery lip gloss adorned her full lips. Gianna Cross was the kind of girl that turned every outfit into a fashion statement. Even ripped sweats and holey T-shirts with Cheeto stains.

I, on the other hand, managed to look like a little kid playing dress-up every time I attempted an outfit fancier than jeans and a plain blouse. Twenty-three years old and I hadn’t yet shed that fresh bloom of youth for the mature lines and full figure age promised me.

“I do need the money,” I admitted. “Dad cut open his mattress to hide his poker winnings inside. The director says I have to pay for a new one.”

“Daddy Red is incorrigible.” You know you’ve been friends for a long time when your bestie calls your father Dad too. “How did he get something sharp?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “He made a shiv out of a toothbrush.”

“I’ve got nothing for that.”

I heaved myself off the bed, making another attempt to find an outfit Gianna approved of. My dad and his incorrigibleness aside, I hadn’t let on just how much I needed this money. But seeing how Gianna and I had been best friends since we were thirteen. We went to middle school, high school, and Cinco University together. She lived with me for a year when we were fifteen, and I’ve been telling her everything since then, she likely knew how close I was dancing to disaster.

Overtime was barely covering my share of the rent, utilities, and bills from the nursing home. Part-time had me straight-up looking at eviction. And I had three other roommates who would be happy to help pack my bags with how often I asked them to turn their music down, or take the fun to their friends’ places, so I could get some sleep before work. They were twenty-three and looking to party. I was twenty-three and looking for a nap.

I pulled a cute sweater dress off the hanger. It was snow white and lovingly fuzzy. The V-neck offered a little collarbone action and the hem didn’t make it past mid-thigh. This would have to do.

“G, toss me the black boots under the bed.”

“Addy, look at this.” Something in her voice stopped me with my shirt half over my head. “They struck again.”

“The Merchants?” Yanking my clothes down, I tripped rushing to see.

“They hit a jewelry store a few days ago.”

Sure enough, “Jewelry Store Robbery” scrolled along the bottom of the news report in big, bold letters. A grainy video accompanied it. Huddled figures dotted the floor, cowering in the face of masked men brandishing shotguns. That in and of itself did not separate them from run-of-the-mill robbers. I gave that honor to the “M” stamped on the side of each mask.

“How much did they get away with?” I asked.

“Half a mill worth of gems.”

I whistled. “I swear these guys didn’t exist a year ago and now they’re everywhere.”

“Like Cinco City doesn’t have enough problems,” she mumbled.

Cinco City.

I loved this place. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, but remove the “-co” from the name, and you knew what our little slice of earth truly was. Forget Las Vegas.

Cinco was so named for a quirk we mirrored from New York City. Five distinct boroughs that were like their own mini-cities. Hundreds of cultures. Thousands of people. A multitude of foods, museums, theaters, and clubs.

A beautiful façade concealing the highest number of fatal overdoses in the nation. Rampant illegal gambling. Underground fight rings. Corruption that made House of Cards look like child’s play.

We had enough gangs and crime families running through the neighborhoods. Who asked for another one?

“The masked part I get,” I said. “But why do they call themselves the Merchants?”

“I heard they trade or sell everything they steal. Not exactly Robin Hoods, but a few of the paintings they knocked off from the Aurora Gallery ended up in a private home. They found out when they arrested the guy for tax evasion. They get their hands on the merchandise and peddle it to whoever is buying. Merchants.”

I nodded. “You get into that kind of business, the masks are necessary.”

“No one knows who runs their crew. Or even how many there are.” She gestured at the screen. “This store was in Harlow. Whoever these guys are, they have a death wish. Harlow is the Kings’ territory.”

 “If the Kings want to kill them, they’ll have to find them first. The Merchants aren’t making that easy.” I turned off the television. “Enough about them. Where is this party?”

“Leighbridge. East side.”

I whistled. “Are we talking penthouse?”

“You know we are.”

“Are we talking rich, hairy creep who’s used money to get what he wants for so long, he can just demand a bunch of scantily clad women traipse through his living room for a couple of hundreds?”

“The rich, hairy creep in question is Raiden Spencer.”

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

I ignored her knowing look on the way to the bathroom.

Raiden Spencer was rich, and naturally he was used to using his millions to get what he wanted. But the young, full-bearded former model was no hairier than the average guy. In every other respect—including his extensive catalog of tight, white briefs shots—he was far from average. The best part, the only woman he was creeping on these days was the famously infamous Hazel O’Hare. Daughter of Leonidas O’Hare. The man who owned half the city.

Her wild child days of table-dancing, boob slips, coke nose rings, and the boot from every prestigious boarding school in North America was well-documented in the media. The story they were running these days was of Hazel and Raiden’s impending wedding, and their attempts to woo Ryan Sinclair into catering their event.

If Ryan took the job, I could weasel my way onto his staff telling stories of the night I wowed the future Mr. and Mrs. Spencer with my ability to smile and carry a tray at the same time.

“You should’ve led with that,” I called to Gianna.

“You should’ve known I had your back.”

Fair point.

I rinsed off in my minuscule box shower, pasted on a little eye shadow and amber lipstick, and then I blew the female-version of my father a kiss in the mirror. Despite the man’s many jokes that he should’ve gotten a paternity test, I resembled him down to the plump lips, cleft chin, and desert-sand eyes. My mother’s only contribution was to burnish strands of red in my brown locks, round my nose, and leech enough melanin from my skin that people have been asking “What are you?” my whole life.

Dear old Mom.

But let’s not ruin a perfectly good mood by thinking of her.

I left the bathroom, wiggled into my fluffy white sweater dress, and tugged on my boots. Gianna fussed with my hair while I dug into my jewelry box for earrings.

“Are we just handing out drinks and mini quiches?” I asked. “Any chance I can get in the kitchen and put my stamp on those trays?”

She chuckled. “That’s another reason why your roommates want rid of you. You’re on this one-track mission to feed everyone around you until they burst out of their clothes.”

“A healthy goal for a chef.”

“I’m sure they’ve got the menu and caterer sewn up by now, Addy.”

“Might try anyway.”

Gianna finished wrangling my hair into two messy buns. I reached for my purse on the nightstand and slipped my pepper spray from the top drawer inside.

My roommates were spread out on the mismatched threadbare couches passing a bowl of popcorn back and forth. They forgot about their movie when we stepped out.

“Are you going out, Addy?”

Corinne’s surprise was deserved. I rarely walked past them out the door in anything but my work clothes.

“Yes. We’re going to a party in Leighbridge.”

Corinne snapped her fingers over her shoulder, signaling for Alisha to get on her phone. “Are you staying out all night?”

I quirked a brow. “Do you want me to?”

She shrugged delicately. “We just want you to have fun. You’re always working. You’ve got like one friend.”

I noted she didn’t include herself, or Alisha and Sage in my circle of friends.

“Stay out all night. Meet someone. Let them fuck the stress out of you. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, roomie,” I said with an eye roll. “Is Alisha calling up everyone so that you three can do the same?”

“Hmm.” She was barely listening. Her phone was out and fingers tapping away too. “See you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I said. “Don’t let anyone in my room, and you can eat the last of my fried apple pies.”

“Oooh. Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”

I’m pretty sure she only heard the last half of that sentence, but Gianna was already dragging me out.

“You need to move out of this dump,” Gianna said. “They’re the main reason you’ve got stress.”

“This dump charges me next to nothing in rent, and it’s right on my bus line to work and the home.”

I had no issues calling my home a dump. Between the worn, stained hallway carpets, cracks in the ceiling, peeling brown wallpaper, and the clinging odor permeating the entire building—calling it a dump was being kind.

“I keep telling you to move in with me.”

“Can’t.” Our heels stomped down the wooden staircase. “You’ve got a Raul problem.”

She heaved a sigh. “Isn’t there some kind of rule that the best friend has to pretend to like the boyfriend? Being supportive and all that.”

“Def not a rule.”

She elbowed me. “Would living with him really be worse than living with the Terrible Trio? Last month, Alisha stumbled home drunk, burst into your room, and threw up on your bed. While you were in it. You’d rather deal with that than Raul?”

I crossed the cracked tile ahead of her and held open the door. Wind whipped in my face, teasing my earrings to chime. “He can’t keep a job. Spends all your money on weed. And he’s cheated on you half a dozen times. I’d rather kill Raul and stash his body in a trash can.”

She laughed. “I’ve cheated on him more than that, but he only knows about a few of them. Dysfunction works for us, babe. If I kicked him down the stairs, he’d probably propose to me.” Gianna popped a kiss on my cheek. “But I love you looking out for me.”

“Now it’s your turn. Kick him down those stairs, so we can move in together.”

Gianna howled, striding off. I did believe she enjoyed the color and drama Raul Perez added to her life. She was a theater major currently working a hotel front desk in between auditions. She couldn’t have the least interesting part she played be her own.

I linked arms with her as we rounded the building, heading for the stop at the corner of Brixton and Canal Street.

“Mhhmm. Ay, ay, ay, ladies.” A group of guys broke their huddle to eye-fuck us from across the street. “Damn, you looking good.”

“Where you going so fast?”

“How much for a date?”

I stifled a groan. “Oh no.”

A stooped, wrinkled missile shot across the road, cutting off a driver who had to swerve to avoid him. Captain skidded to a stop, pulling us up short.

“How much for the both of you?” He flashed broken, rotting teeth. “Ain’t got much, but you can give an old man a discount.”

“Old man is right,” Gianna said. “You’re old enough to be our grandfather.”

“But I’m not.” He thrust his hips at us, ratcheting up the howls from the group of guys watching. “No reason we can’t have a little fun.”

I grimaced at the piss-stained crotch coming at me.

Captain was a permanent fixture on my street. He’d taken a liking to the couch someone threw out behind my building, and violently defended it from removal. I found this out when he popped out from behind the dumpster on my move-in day and said the only way I was going near his couch was if I rode him on it.

“Move on, you leathery, senile perv,” said Gianna. “I swear we do this every fucking day.”

“That’s because we do.” I took out my pepper spray and shook it. “You know I keep this just for you, Captain. Six feet at all times.”

He scowled—put out like he didn’t know this rejection was incoming. I looked him up and down.

“How are you doing, C?” I asked. “Did you go to that shelter I told you about? Get you some food and clean clothes?”

But looking at him it was clear he didn’t. The bottom half of his pants were in tatters, and the waist was held up by a rolled-up strip of cling wrap. Under two jackets was a brown shirt that used to be white. Still, his clothes were in a better state than him. There were unknown bits of something tangled in his scraggly gray beard. Above his eye was a cut I noticed days ago that dripped blood onto his eyebrow that he had yet to clean off. Didn’t look to be healing properly.

He flapped a hand. “Nah. If I leave, someone will take my couch.”

“No one is going to take your couch. Go to the shelter,” I said. “Jeanine is super sweet. She’ll hook you up, and take a look at that cut. Do you remember the address?”

“Lost the card.”

I dug in my purse and fished out the shelter’s business card.

“If you’re really worried about me—” Captain seized my outstretched hand and smeared his face on my palm. “—there’s plenty you can do to make me feel better.”

Gianna snatched my pepper spray can. Captain received a hard whap to the head. “Told you to move your ass on!”

“Frigid, teasing bitches!” he howled, taking off across the street. “Cock-sucking sluts!”

“We’re not sucking your shriveled-up dick!”

Captain’s tirade continued as Gianna tugged me away.

“You’re too nice, A. Next time, I’m spraying him before he opens his mouth.”

“Captain is all talk. Besides, if he gets on his feet and off the couch, I’ll finally be able to throw out my trash without his weekly description of the things he wants me to do to his dick.”

“Do you feel sorry for him because he’s a vet?” she asked as we reached the bus stop.

“A vet?” I repeated. “Oh, no. That’s not why he’s called Captain. He stole a naval captain’s hat off a corpse he tripped over in the park, and took a liking to it. Wore it every day and the name stuck.”

“Again. I have nothing for that.”

The number twelve bus rode up on time. We climbed on and settled in for an hour and forty minutes of bumps, stops, jostling, and two transfers. Leighbridge had plenty of distance between it and my borough, Rockchapel, and that’s how they liked it.

I gazed out the window as overturned trash cans, graffitied storefronts, and lecherous old men were replaced by soaring skyscrapers, passing Lamborghinis, and women walking dogs with diamond-encrusted collars.

The bus spat us out in front of Prestige Apartments. My neck bent in half following the shiny silver windows to the very top.

“Kayla,” Gianna said into the phone. “We’re here. Can we come right up? Uh-huh. Okay. Cool.” She hung up. “We give our names and IDs to the dude at the front desk. Then take the service elevator to the top floor.” She nudged me. “Network the living hell out of those people, A. Get on the O’Hare-Spencer wedding. Become the go-to celebrity chef. Then I’ll be moving into your swanky downtown penthouse.”

I hummed. “You don’t think I’d have traded up to a better best friend by then?”

A sharp pain zinged through my backside. My yelp was followed by my laugh.

“Doesn’t get better than me,” she said, “and I’ll pinch you the next time you forget.”

I kissed her cheek by way of an apology. I had Gianna when I had nothing. There was no clawing my way to the top if she wasn’t coming up with me.

The doorman sized us up as he bowed, but didn’t say a word. We walked over to the front desk as ordered, and handed over our identification.

“These will be returned when you leave.” The guard, Daniel, spoke to his clipboard rather than our faces. “You will be searched upon exiting the Spencer residence and again before you leave the building. Mr. Spencer’s private security will have further instructions when you arrive. Do not disturb the other residents. Do not…”

I scanned the space as he droned on. Swanky in the extreme but I expected nothing less.

A glass waterfall installation stretched from floor to ceiling in the middle of the room. Surrounding it were synthetic flowers and palm fronds that swayed under the air-conditioning. Through walls of glass, I peeked a dining room and state-of-the-art gym.

The bottom floor was empty this time of night. I pictured my empty-bank-account, working-from-open-to-close, sleeping-in-a-shoebox life trying to fit into all of this.

“—Mr. Spencer’s private security will have further instructions when you arrive,” Daniel continued. “The service elevator is at the back of that hallway.”

Gianna and I headed in the direction he pointed to.

“I plan on breaking nearly all of those rules without shame.” She tugged her dress down, popping the girls out to play. “Yes to sneaking the food and wine. Yes to snagging a rich, handsome guest. Yes to both of us slipping away from the party. And yes to pocketing a memento of the night.”

I pressed the button for the elevator. “Take a sock or something like that. People expect to lose them, so they don’t question if they go missing.”

Gianna tapped the side of her nose. “That’s why you’re the mastermind in this operation. Got any tips for the cute, wealthy stranger?”

“Strut around in that outfit and they’ll come to you.”

The elevator whisked us high in the sky, opening up to a darkened hallway with a single door. Darkened, but not silent. The bass thumped through the walls, letting us know we were in the right place. Kayla poked her head out like she sensed us.

“GiGi. Madeline.” She threw her arms around Gianna, squeezing the stuffing out of her.

“Adeline,” I corrected, waving to her. The flying-hug greeting wasn’t for me.

Kayla was more Gianna’s friend than mine. The three of us went to the same college, but they were the drama majors, while I was hospitality management and working two jobs. Didn’t leave much time for hanging out.

“Come on in, guys. It’s totally chill.” She took both our hands. “It’s a pre-engagement party Raiden threw to surprise Hazel.”

“Pre-engagement?” I said as the doorway swallowed us. “Aren’t they already engaged?”

“Yes. The real engagement party will be in two weeks when Raiden’s parents return from Europe. This is the pre-party for all of their close friends.”

A low whistle escaped my lips. All two hundred of them.

Everywhere I looked, people were grinding, dancing, and sweating on something or someone. Raised platforms were in and around the living room—complete with pole. Ladies and gentlemen professional and amateur were giving them a go. Purple glow lights replaced the function of the chandeliers, casting an otherworldly vibe on the party.

Overhead, a banner congratulated the happy couple, but I’d hazard a guess this soiree was less about Hazel and Raiden and more about getting shit-faced.

“Are we late?” I shouted over the music.

Kayla shook her head. “They started early. Going before any of us showed up.” She held out her hands. “I’ll skip sending you to security and take your phones now. Sorry but they’ve gotta be locked up till the end of the night. Stay out of the rooms. Don’t have sex with the guests.” I swore she looked at Gianna when she said that. “Don’t dance. Don’t drink. Otherwise, it’s a party. Have fun.”

I squinted at one of the women on the platform. More like I squinted at her neck.

“Hold on. Isn’t that Hazel?”

Kayla followed my line of sight. “You don’t have to ask. No other woman on the planet is walking around wearing that.”

Drifting closer, my lips parted, releasing a soft, “Wow.”

The diamond dangle choker shimmered in the colored glow, trapping the light and tossing it back in pure, mesmerizing beauty. It swayed as she danced, and my eyes with it. Tick-tocking side to side like a pendulum clock.

“The Symphony of Stars.” Gianna stepped to my side, surrendering to the same hold. “Why can’t I snag a man who gifts me like that?”

“Because there’s only one Raiden Spencer,” I whispered.

Gianna couldn’t have heard me, but she nodded all the same.

Raiden Spencer wooed the sultry, enchanting heiress with the promise of gifting her a diamond for every week they were together. Set in brilliant white gold, the symbol of their love and commitment adorned her neck, growing in time to their march to the altar. One single chain held thirteen diamonds and valued at almost three hundred thousand dollars. Hazel was now up to eight chains splayed on her chest and bound to the band of white gold around her throat.

“Can you imagine walking around with over two million dollars around your neck?” Gianna asked.

“No point,” Kayla spoke up. “It’s never going to happen.” She drew us away from the dancing Hazel, recapturing our attention. “The kitchen is through there. Grab a tray, circle the party, and collect your money at the end of the night.”

I spotted a few women who had been given similar instructions. One ducked a flailing arm and toppled the champagne glass on her tray. The contents spilled down her dress, earning a round of catcalls.

“This’ll be fun,” I muttered.

Kayla collected our phones and sent us off.

Heading for the kitchen, we passed portraits of Hazel, Hazel, a half-naked Hazel, and half-naked Hazel and Raiden on the walls. The future Mrs. Spencer was quick about putting her stamp on this place.

“We’re in the home of Cinco royalty,” Gianna said. “We’re witnessing how the other half lives, and no surprise, it’s pretty fucking sweet.”

My jaw fell open. I stopped dead on the marble, eyes rolling in my head trying to take everything in at once.

The room was one long galley. A massive fridge claimed the middle of the action. Three grown men could fit in that cooler and you’d still have room for the kombucha. A wooden wine rack stretched to the ceiling—splashing old-world charm in the modern white-and-silver kitchen.

A stainless-steel canopy range hood floated above a professional dual fuel cooktop. Two ovens. Handcrafted burners. Eleven—count ’em—eleven knobs.

If appliance catalogs were porn mags, this oven would be the centerfold.

“Wow, G. Want to steal this whole damn kitchen for me?”

“Best I can do is a baggie full of stuffed mushrooms and a fork.”

Laid out on the island were the trays of food and glasses. The caterer had come and gone. I suspected they’d return in the morning to clean up. Until then, the rest was up to us.

It was like Christmas.

I popped said mushroom in my mouth and moaned. “Good. Very good. The only thing that would make… this better… is…” I brazenly opened the cabinets and pawed through. “There has to be some in here.”

“I’m going to find a playmate before you get us kicked out,” Gianna said. “Good luck.”

I waved over my shoulder. “Ah ha.” The cabinet above the toaster held my prize. I grabbed the bag of pine nuts and got to work crushing and sprinkling it over the mushrooms. Then I set my sights on the rest.

The salmon toast was sprinkled with fresh dill. The mini quiches received a helping of minced chives. For the shortbread cookies, I went whole ham. Hunting down a saucepan, I filled it with water and set it to boil on the pornographic stove.

Whether Raiden fed himself or had a chef doing it for him, they kept this place well-stocked with everything I didn’t know I needed. I got weak-kneed holding a melon-baller, and had to fight myself to not claim a Gianna-style souvenir.

With the chocolate melted down, I set to work dipping the cookies and placing them on the rack to cool. Why did I waffle on coming? This is the best party I’ve been to in years.

A server wandered in. “Hey, I need more—”

“Take the salmon,” I ordered. “Those should be eaten before the quiches. Don’t bother carrying around drinks. People are bound to knock into you, and we don’t need broken glass on the floor. Put them on the dining table.”

“I— Uh. Yes, ma’am.” She scurried out with her tray.

Now that I’m talking alcohol. I need to change the pairing to match the new flavor profile.

I went to the wine rack, pulling out bottles in search of a cabernet sauvignon. A complex wine with a smoky, black pepper taste was exactly what I needed.

“Perfect.”

A deep, husky baritone filled the room. “I believe that’s mine.”

Jerking, the bottle nearly slipped from my hand.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Spencer,” I said, spinning around. “I didn’t— You’re not Raiden.”

Thick, manicured eyebrows crept to the hairline. I followed them up, breath catching as he moved around the island.

This stranger was tall. Topping out at six feet at least. I imagined that sudden growth spurt made him clumsy as a preteen, but he’d found his stride in the years since. He moved with a fluidity that dancers envied, and stretched his suit over a different part of his toned body.

I took all of this in during the brief second I was able to look away from his face. Then he cocked his head, elongating the creeping vines inked on his neck, and I was back.

Heaven have mercy on us. We mortals weren’t meant to look upon such beauty.

“Aren’t I?” he said.

“No.”

I can’t say why that made him smile. His entire being transformed and the impact bowled me over.

Eyes a slightly spooky, gunmetal gray captured me as he straightened, passing so close his exhale brushed the tip of my nose. I locked on to them, counting the river blue specks swimming around his dilated pupils. A lock of hair fell between us, cutting off my view and ripping me out of the trance.

“How do you know?” he asked.

My back bumped against the wine rack. He had pushed me back without laying a hand on me. Unthinkingly, I returned the favor—reaching to push on his chest and getting the same result when he moved to avoid my touch.

“I know because Raiden Spencer doesn’t have blue hair.” I flicked to the waves of electric blue sprouting from his roots. “If you wanted to impersonate the guy, you should have looked at a photo or something.”

He laughed—a deeply pleasing sound that curled my toes. “Fair point. But that’s mine all the same. You’re going to hand that over without a fuss, aren’t you, Bunny?”

“Bunny?” I blurted—though the white, fuzzy dress and two balls of hair piled on top of my head made my new nickname easy to guess. “I, uh, yeah.” I passed over the bottle. “Are you a friend of Hazel and Raiden?”

“Friend of a friend’s friend.”

“Oh.” I was usually more articulate than this. But then again it wasn’t every day I ran into men that looked like him.

I flicked over his shoulder. “Do you like shortbread cookies? The chocolate should be cool by now.” I went over to the rack, picking up one for him and for myself. He smiled at the offering.

Damn, he really is handsome.

His bottom lip was fuller than the top. Both were stained a light pink that clashed with the raven shadow lining his jaw and continuing up and over his mouth. “Did you make these?” he asked as he took it.

“Can’t take the credit. My only addition is the chocolate.” The melty, floury treat crumbled on my tongue, drawing a moan out of me. “My name’s Adeline. What’s yours?”

“Sinjin.”

“Sinjin.” I rolled it around on my tongue. Decided I liked it. “I thought my name was unique.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“What’s it short for?”

“An old and ill-matched name.”

I waited for more, lifting my brows as a hint, and was gifted with his mirroring my “And?” expression.

I laughed. “All right. Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“The chocolate was a good touch, Bunny.” He tucked the bottle under his arm and scooped up some more.

“The name is Adeline,” I corrected. “They are yummy. A pot of steaming chamomile tea would be perfect with this.”

“I’m picking up your hint, but I don’t have time to take you for tea right now. We’ll have to hook up later.”

Heat blossomed in my cheeks. “I wasn’t dropping a hint,” I cried.

“Sure you weren’t.” He swooped in quicker than I could blink and kissed my cheek. “I’ve got business, so meet me back here in… about two hours? You can drizzle all the chocolate you want on me then.”

My jaw fell open, preventing a response as he boldly claimed another cookie and walked out of the kitchen.

“Rich people,” I muttered.

I caught my fingers tracing the ghost of his kiss and ripped away. I was not meeting this blue-haired devil in two hours or at all. I was doing my job, collecting my money, making sure Raiden and Hazel knew who upgraded their appetizers, and then taking my ass home. Despite what Corinne said, I did not need a stranger to screw away my stress.

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