The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter ten.

MY HANDS SHAKE. 

My stomach is twisted in knots.

I can hardly control my breathing as I stand outside Nathaniel's office, trying to build up the courage to knock on the door.

It's been four days since I saw Anthony outside my apartment building and this morning I received a letter from an attorney about beginning proceedings for custody of Elodie.

What choice do I have? Where else can I turn? I don't know what to do anymore.

The sound of my knuckles hitting the door echoes around the hallway as I knock. It's early and the club isn't open to customers yet. But I need to get this out of the way with.

"Come in."

I open the door and slip inside, pulling the sleeves of my shirt down over my hands.

"Wren." Nathaniel never sounds surprised, as such, but I can tell he wasn't expecting it to be me, especially since we have both been pretty effectively avoiding each other.

"Hi." My voice is quiet. I clear my throat; he doesn't respond well to weakness. "I need–I need something."

He sits back in his desk chair, jacket slung over the couch to the left, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up.

A single finger taps against his desk as he stares at me intently. Why does it always seem like he is mapping every feature of my face—or my body, when I'm wearing less clothes?

"What do you need?" He asks.

"I-..." The words catch in my throat and I feel like I'm about to cry. Is it desperation or humiliation that is making me so emotional right now? Maybe I'm just drained. "I need another loan."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"I need another twenty thousand."

The tapping of his finger ceases. He is completely still, tense, for a very long moment. Then, "No."

Tears burn my eyes. "Please, Nathaniel."

He abruptly stands, his chair creaking, and he steps around his desk as though he's going to come toward me. I flinch back, hugging my arms around myself and he stops. Instead, he leans back against his desk, hands gripping the ledge with white knuckles.

"Tell me what you're using all this money for," he says, voice hard.

"I can't." I won't tell him—or anyone here—about Elodie. I don't want them to know she even exists.

"I'm not giving you another cent unless you give me a reason."

A sound of frustration leaves me. "I can't tell you. But I need this, please."

"Gambling debt? Drug addiction? Where the fuck is all of this money going, Wren?"

I only shake my head, not saying a word.

"Is someone threatening you?" he asks sharply.

Though I don't respond, something must give it away on my face. He straightens, expression blazing now. "Someone's threatening you," he states. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm working to pay off the forty thousand. I'll just work for longer–"

"Stop talking," he interrupts and strides toward me. It takes everything in me not to back up in fear, especially when his eyes have grown so dark, but I hold my ground. "Tell me who's threatening you. Right now." I say nothing and his hand grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Now, Amelia."