The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter twenty-two.

THE APARTMENT FEELS...empty.

"Where's Reaper?" Elodie asks me from the couch. Her colorings are spread out on the coffee table in front of her.

I swallow thickly around the knot in my throat. It is a knot of elation and sadness and anxiety and worry.

Elodie is mine now; Nathaniel said he knows a judge that will ratify the custody papers and deal with the other legalities, so that Anthony's rights are completely revoked. This is the best possible outcome. Except...

"Reaper's gone home, El," I tell her. "He needed to go home."

Nathaniel made it perfectly clear that now that Anthony is no longer a threat and I no longer need Reaper's protection, he was to keep his distance.

I still don't know what Nathaniel holds over his head, but whatever it is makes Reaper listen. And so, he left.

"When's he coming back? I promised to show him my drawings," she pouts. I move closer to the couch, kneeling in front of her and brushing some golden curls from her face.

"At the moment, he uh," I pause. "He might not be able to come back for a while. He's very busy."

She stares at me. Just stares and stares and it kickstarts an ache in my chest.

"How long is a while? A day?" She asks.

I don't have the heart to tell her that I think he's never coming back.

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Walking into the club the next night is strange.

Everything feels different now.

The lighting is always dim and usually in some hue of blue, but tonight it is blood red.

A woman on the raised platform is dressed in scarlet lingerie and sports devil's horns on her head. She slides a blindfold over her male counterpart's eyes as he lounges in the velvet armchair, then she straddles him and starts grinding back and forth.

Her moans echo above the sensual music as she throws her head back.

Across the room, my eyes meet Reaper's.

He is a silent sentinel in this place of chaotic debauchery. Dressed in black, earpiece in, face stoic.

The urge to run over to him and throw myself in his arms is rather compelling. But he just looks away from me, jaw tense.

A hand slides onto my waist, edging beneath the hem of my shirt, and it is an explosion of heat. A gasp flies from my mouth.

"This way, little bird." Nathaniel's voice tickles my ear. "Come on."

He steers me toward the VIP booths.

"What are we doing?" I ask.

"The investor from the other night is here. We're entertaining. He's very interested in you."

"Great," I mutter. I want to hole up in Nathaniel's office and keep pouring over the plans for the new franchise, but instead I get to be entertainment. "I'm not dressed," I point out. Usually I am sent back to the dressing room to be trussed into some lacy nightgown.

Nathaniel stops me by curling his fingers into my skin and then he spins me to face him. I wobble in my heels and plant my hands on his chest to stay upright.

He reaches behind my head and slides my elastic hairband out of my hair, letting the waves fall down over my shoulders.

"You look perfect to me," he says, eyes dipping down to my lips.