The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter twenty-four.

THE PRINTER HUMS contently behind me. The pounding thump of loud music is barely a soft beat in Nathaniel's office.

I am glad to be in here tonight, away from the chaos of the club. Elodie has been mopey ever since Reaper left and it's bringing my mood down; I hate it when she's upset and there's nothing I can do to fix it.

Sometimes I am scared that I will never be enough for her, that she needs someone else in her life. A father figure or a true mother. What if she spends her whole life wishing for more?

Shaking my head, I turn back to the printer and snatch up some more real estate listings. Potential locations for Nathaniel's new club. The folder I have been building is brimming now with ideas and plans and projections.

I sink down into the office chair and spin around mindlessly, staring up at the ceiling.

The door opens and Nathaniel comes in. His suit is charcoal tonight, almost blending into the shadows of the club.

"I need to make a call. Go home." His tone is tight, terse. It has been ever since the night he dropped me home, four days ago.

I glance over at the clock on the wall; it's nearly midnight and I'm tired, so he'll hear no complaints from me.

I stand up and push the file toward him. "When are you going to look at it?" My real question is: are you going to look at it at all? I am almost worried that he only has me doing this work as a way to keep me out of the way and occupied. His little minion doing unimportant work that he'll never actually value.

He's typing something on his phone, frowning down at the screen. "When I'm ready to move forward with the new franchise. Next few weeks."

I glance down at the carpet beneath my feet, shifting uncomfortably. "Ok."

As I move around the desk, Nathaniel puts his phone away, into the pocket of his trousers, and then reaches for my coat that hangs over the side of the couch.

It is almost instinctual, the way he holds it up for me, waiting for me to slip my arms in. Like this is the most normal thing in the world for us.

Reluctantly, I turn my back to him and let him help me into the coat, feeling the brush of his knuckles against my skin as he slides the sleeves up my arms. His breath feathers over the back of my head and I can feel it disturb my hair lightly.

When the coat is on, he lets his hands rest on my shoulders momentarily and I swear he leans forward, just an inch, just enough for his chest to brush my shoulder blades.

I step away, ducking my head, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him run a hand down his face. His expression is...aggrieved.

"Nathaniel–"

"Goodnight, Wren."

He is already walking toward his desk, his back to me.

I leave without another word.

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An insistent knocking sound wakes me.

Bleary-eyed and confused, I sit up, my duvet tangled around me. Maybe I was dreaming?

But then...

Knock, knock.

Fear immediately pummels me, my stomach bottoming out. I jump out of bed, suddenly wide awake, and creep out into the hall.

Who on Earth is at my door at three o'clock in the morning?

I only got to sleep about an hour ago, after working on some college essays when I got home from the club.

The beat of my heart rings in my ears like a drumbeat. I poke my head into Elodie's room and check that she's still sleeping—thank God, she is—then close her bedroom door.