The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter four.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just remember this is set 6 years earlier than when Nate/Amelia met, so Nate is a bit different/younger/less mature.

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"ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. You're not doing this anymore."

Viktor's jacket is still wrapped around my frame, covering me and keeping me warm. My lingerie has finally dried, though my hair is still damp. It smells of sea salt; I'll have to wash it when I get home.

For now, I curl up on the couch in Nate's office, resting my cheek on my knees. "I'm fine," I tell him softly.

"It's not fine!" He protests, pacing across the office floor, shoving a hand through his brunette hair. "You could've fucking died. I'm not doing this with you anymore. You're done working at the club."

This makes my head rise. "What?"

"I'm going to buy you a fucking apartment and give you a credit card. I don't need the goddamn stress of this, Gabi."

I shake my head slowly. "I'm not doing that, Nate. You know that."

I can't. Though it sounds appealing; to live a simple life, free of stress about bills, free of work at the club or work entirely. I could read books and do yoga and listen to old records. I could have coffee and get a cat and take strolls along the river. I could spend more time with Nate, try to mend the tenuous thing between us that is a mangled version of friendship.

But it is a pipe dream. A fantasy. Life is not simple pleasures; life is hard work and constant vigilance and never fully trusting anyone.

If I take this offer from Nate, then nothing I have will ever be my own. I will belong to him forever. How can I accept that when I have fought so hard to belong only to myself?

"I just can't," I say.

"You can't? Why?" he demands. "You think I'm going to ask for something in return? What, you think in a year's time I'll turn around and demand you fuck me as repayment?"

My eyes go down to the floor. We both know he would never ask nor expect nor want such a thing from me.

Throat tight and feeling more exhausted than I have in months, I just shake my head, saying nothing.

What is there to say? He knows exactly why I can't accept his offer, why I will never be able to bring myself to, and he is pushing this again anyway. It is the definition of insanity, is it not? To repeat the same action over and over again and expect a different result.

"Fuck!" He strikes an empty glass that sits on his desk and it flies across the room, crashing into the wall and shattering upon contact.

I flinch back, ducking my head, hunching my shoulders.